Accepting Setbacks: Lessons from Five Decades of Writing Journey

Encountering rejection, particularly when it recurs often, is far from pleasant. Someone is declining your work, giving a definite “Nope.” Working in writing, I am well acquainted with rejection. I started submitting articles 50 years back, upon completing my studies. Since then, I have had multiple books declined, along with article pitches and many short stories. During the recent score of years, concentrating on op-eds, the rejections have only increased. Regularly, I receive a rejection every few days—totaling over 100 each year. Overall, denials over my career number in the thousands. At this point, I might as well have a master’s in rejection.

But, does this seem like a self-pitying rant? Far from it. As, finally, at seven decades plus three, I have accepted rejection.

In What Way Have I Managed It?

Some context: Now, almost everyone and their distant cousin has given me a thumbs-down. I haven’t counted my success rate—it would be very discouraging.

A case in point: lately, an editor nixed 20 submissions one after another before saying yes to one. A few years ago, over 50 editors vetoed my book idea before a single one approved it. Subsequently, 25 representatives rejected a book pitch. A particular editor requested that I submit my work only once a month.

The Seven Stages of Setback

When I was younger, each denial were painful. I took them personally. I believed my creation was being turned down, but who I am.

As soon as a submission was rejected, I would begin the process of setback:

• Initially, disbelief. How could this happen? How could these people be ignore my talent?
• Next, refusal to accept. Maybe you’ve rejected the mistake? Perhaps it’s an mistake.
• Then, dismissal. What can editors know? Who made you to judge on my labours? It’s nonsense and their outlet stinks. I reject your rejection.
• After that, anger at the rejecters, then frustration with me. Why do I put myself through this? Am I a glutton for punishment?
• Subsequently, negotiating (preferably accompanied by false hope). How can I convince you to acknowledge me as a once-in-a-generation talent?
• Then, sadness. I’m not talented. What’s more, I can never become any good.

This continued over many years.

Great Precedents

Of course, I was in good company. Tales of authors whose books was initially rejected are plentiful. The author of Moby-Dick. Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. James Joyce’s Dubliners. Vladimir Nabokov’s Lolita. Joseph Heller’s Catch-22. Virtually all writer of repute was initially spurned. Since they did persevere, then maybe I could, too. The sports icon was cut from his high school basketball team. Most Presidents over the recent history had previously lost races. The actor-writer says that his Rocky screenplay and bid to star were turned down numerous times. He said rejection as an alarm to wake me up and keep moving, rather than retreat,” he remarked.

Acceptance

Later, as I reached my later years, I entered the seventh stage of rejection. Peace. Currently, I more clearly see the various causes why an editor says no. Firstly, an editor may have just published a like work, or be planning one underway, or simply be considering something along the same lines for another contributor.

Or, unfortunately, my submission is uninteresting. Or the reader feels I am not qualified or standing to succeed. Or isn’t in the market for the work I am submitting. Or was busy and read my piece too fast to recognize its value.

Go ahead call it an epiphany. Any work can be declined, and for numerous reasons, and there is pretty much not much you can do about it. Certain rationales for rejection are permanently not up to you.

Within Control

Additional reasons are within it. Honestly, my pitches and submissions may occasionally be flawed. They may not resonate and resonance, or the point I am struggling to articulate is poorly presented. Or I’m being flagrantly unoriginal. Maybe an aspect about my grammar, particularly semicolons, was annoying.

The essence is that, in spite of all my decades of effort and rejection, I have achieved recognized. I’ve written several titles—my first when I was middle-aged, my second, a personal story, at retirement age—and more than numerous essays. These works have appeared in newspapers big and little, in regional, worldwide platforms. My debut commentary was published decades ago—and I have now written to many places for five decades.

Still, no major hits, no book signings at major stores, no spots on talk shows, no presentations, no prizes, no Pulitzers, no Nobel Prize, and no Presidential Medal. But I can better accept rejection at 73, because my, small accomplishments have cushioned the blows of my frequent denials. I can now be reflective about it all now.

Instructive Rejection

Rejection can be educational, but provided that you listen to what it’s trying to teach. Otherwise, you will likely just keep taking rejection all wrong. What teachings have I gained?

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