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Experiencing denial, especially when it recurs often, is not a great feeling. An editor is declining your work, delivering a clear “Not interested.” Being an author, I am familiar with rejection. I commenced submitting articles half a century past, upon completing my studies. From that point, I have had several works rejected, along with nonfiction proposals and many pieces. In the last two decades, specializing in personal essays, the refusals have only increased. In a typical week, I get a setback frequently—adding up to over 100 times a year. In total, rejections throughout my life number in the thousands. By now, I could have a advanced degree in rejection.

So, does this seem like a complaining outburst? Far from it. As, at last, at seven decades plus three, I have come to terms with rejection.

In What Way Did I Achieve It?

A bit of background: At this point, nearly everyone and their distant cousin has given me a thumbs-down. I’ve never kept score my acceptance statistics—that would be very discouraging.

As an illustration: recently, a newspaper editor nixed 20 pieces one after another before accepting one. A few years ago, no fewer than 50 editors declined my memoir proposal before a single one approved it. A few years later, 25 representatives passed on a book pitch. A particular editor requested that I submit my work less often.

My Phases of Rejection

In my 20s, all rejections were painful. It felt like a personal affront. I believed my writing was being turned down, but who I am.

Right after a piece was rejected, I would begin the process of setback:

• First, shock. How could this happen? Why would these people be ignore my skill?
• Second, denial. Surely they rejected the mistake? This must be an administrative error.
• Third, dismissal. What can any of you know? Who made you to hand down rulings on my work? You’re stupid and your publication is poor. I refuse this refusal.
• Fourth, irritation at the rejecters, followed by frustration with me. Why would I subject myself to this? Could I be a masochist?
• Subsequently, bargaining (often seasoned with delusion). What will it take you to acknowledge me as a exceptional creator?
• Sixth, sadness. I’m no good. Additionally, I can never become any good.

I experienced this for decades.

Excellent Company

Of course, I was in fine fellowship. Accounts of authors whose manuscripts was originally turned down are legion. The author of Moby-Dick. The creator of Frankenstein. The writer of Dubliners. Vladimir Nabokov’s Lolita. Joseph Heller’s Catch-22. Nearly each writer of repute was first rejected. If they could succeed despite no’s, then perhaps I could, too. The basketball legend was cut from his youth squad. Many American leaders over the last 60 years had been defeated in races. Sylvester Stallone says that his Rocky screenplay and desire to star were declined repeatedly. For him, denial as an alarm to motivate me and keep moving, instead of giving up,” he remarked.

The Final Phase

As time passed, when I entered my senior age, I reached the seventh stage of rejection. Acceptance. Today, I better understand the various causes why an editor says no. For starters, an editor may have just published a comparable article, or be planning one underway, or be thinking about that idea for another contributor.

Alternatively, unfortunately, my submission is of limited interest. Or the reader thinks I lack the credentials or standing to be suitable. Or is no longer in the business for the wares I am submitting. Maybe was too distracted and read my work hastily to appreciate its quality.

Feel free call it an epiphany. Any work can be rejected, and for any reason, and there is almost little you can do about it. Certain explanations for rejection are forever out of your hands.

Your Responsibility

Others are under your control. Admittedly, my proposals may occasionally be flawed. They may not resonate and resonance, or the point I am struggling to articulate is insufficiently dramatised. Alternatively I’m being obviously derivative. Or a part about my punctuation, notably semicolons, was annoying.

The key is that, in spite of all my decades of effort and setbacks, I have managed to get published in many places. I’ve written several titles—the initial one when I was 51, the next, a personal story, at older—and over a thousand pieces. My writings have featured in newspapers large and small, in regional, worldwide outlets. My first op-ed ran in my twenties—and I have now submitted to various outlets for half a century.

Still, no bestsellers, no author events publicly, no features on talk shows, no presentations, no book awards, no Pulitzers, no international recognition, and no Presidential Medal. But I can better handle rejection at this stage, because my, small accomplishments have eased the stings of my frequent denials. I can now be philosophical about it all now.

Instructive Rejection

Rejection can be helpful, but only if you pay attention to what it’s indicating. Or else, you will probably just keep seeing denial incorrectly. So what lessons have I acquired?

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