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Encountering denial, especially when it recurs often, is not a great feeling. A publisher is declining your work, giving a definite “Not interested.” As a writer, I am familiar with rejection. I started pitching manuscripts five decades ago, just after college graduation. Over the years, I have had two novels declined, along with nonfiction proposals and countless pieces. Over the past 20 years, focusing on op-eds, the rejections have multiplied. On average, I face a setback every few days—amounting to in excess of 100 annually. Cumulatively, rejections in my profession number in the thousands. Today, I could have a master’s in handling no’s.

But, does this seem like a self-pitying tirade? Absolutely not. Because, finally, at 73 years old, I have embraced rejection.

How Have I Managed This?

A bit of background: At this point, just about each individual and their distant cousin has rejected me. I’ve never kept score my success rate—doing so would be deeply dispiriting.

For example: lately, an editor rejected 20 articles consecutively before saying yes to one. In 2016, no fewer than 50 publishing houses declined my book idea before someone gave the green light. Later on, 25 representatives declined a book pitch. One editor requested that I send articles less often.

The Steps of Rejection

When I was younger, all rejections stung. I took them personally. It seemed like my creation being rejected, but me as a person.

As soon as a submission was turned down, I would begin the “seven stages of rejection”:

• First, shock. How could this happen? How could these people be ignore my ability?
• Next, refusal to accept. Maybe they rejected the mistake? Perhaps it’s an administrative error.
• Then, rejection of the rejection. What can any of you know? Who made you to judge on my work? You’re stupid and their outlet stinks. I refuse this refusal.
• After that, frustration at them, followed by frustration with me. Why do I do this to myself? Could I be a martyr?
• Fifth, bargaining (preferably seasoned with optimism). How can I convince you to acknowledge me as a once-in-a-generation talent?
• Then, sadness. I’m no good. What’s more, I’ll never be accomplished.

I experienced this for decades.

Excellent Examples

Certainly, I was in excellent fellowship. Stories of writers whose work was initially declined are numerous. Herman Melville’s Moby-Dick. The creator of Frankenstein. The writer of Dubliners. Vladimir Nabokov’s Lolita. Joseph Heller’s Catch-22. Almost every renowned author was originally turned down. Since they did persevere, then perhaps I could, too. The basketball legend was not selected for his high school basketball team. The majority of US presidents over the last 60 years had been defeated in elections. The actor-writer claims that his script for Rocky and bid to appear were turned down 1,500 times. “I take rejection as a wake-up call to rouse me and keep moving, rather than retreat,” he remarked.

The Seventh Stage

Then, upon arriving at my 60s and 70s, I entered the last step of setback. Understanding. Currently, I better understand the multiple factors why someone says no. Firstly, an reviewer may have just published a comparable article, or have something underway, or be thinking about a similar topic for another contributor.

Or, more discouragingly, my idea is of limited interest. Or maybe the evaluator feels I am not qualified or reputation to fit the bill. Perhaps is no longer in the market for the wares I am submitting. Or didn’t focus and read my submission too fast to recognize its quality.

Feel free call it an realization. Anything can be declined, and for numerous reasons, and there is pretty much not much you can do about it. Certain reasons for rejection are permanently out of your hands.

Within Control

Others are your fault. Let’s face it, my proposals may sometimes be flawed. They may be irrelevant and appeal, or the point I am trying to express is poorly presented. Alternatively I’m being too similar. Or a part about my punctuation, particularly commas, was offensive.

The point is that, regardless of all my decades of effort and rejection, I have managed to get recognized. I’ve published two books—my first when I was 51, the next, a autobiography, at retirement age—and over 1,000 articles. Those pieces have appeared in publications major and minor, in diverse platforms. My first op-ed ran decades ago—and I have now submitted to that publication for five decades.

Yet, no major hits, no signings in bookshops, no spots on TV programs, no speeches, no book awards, no accolades, no Nobel Prize, and no medal. But I can more readily accept rejection at my age, because my, humble achievements have eased the jolts of my setbacks. I can now be thoughtful about it all today.

Valuable Setbacks

Rejection can be helpful, but only if you pay attention to what it’s attempting to show. Or else, you will probably just keep taking rejection the wrong way. What lessons have I gained?

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