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Facing refusal, notably when it occurs frequently, is not a great feeling. An editor is turning you down, giving a firm “Not interested.” As a writer, I am well acquainted with setbacks. I started pitching manuscripts half a century past, just after finishing university. Since then, I have had multiple books turned down, along with book ideas and countless pieces. During the recent two decades, specializing in op-eds, the denials have multiplied. Regularly, I get a setback frequently—totaling in excess of 100 each year. Cumulatively, denials in my profession exceed a thousand. Today, I could have a master’s in handling no’s.

So, does this seem like a woe-is-me outburst? Not at all. Because, at last, at the age of 73, I have come to terms with rejection.

How Have I Managed It?

For perspective: By this stage, almost each individual and their relatives has given me a thumbs-down. I’ve never kept score my win-lose ratio—it would be very discouraging.

As an illustration: not long ago, a publication turned down 20 submissions one after another before saying yes to one. A few years ago, over 50 publishing houses vetoed my memoir proposal before someone gave the green light. Subsequently, 25 representatives rejected a project. A particular editor even asked that I send my work less frequently.

The Seven Stages of Rejection

When I was younger, all rejections were painful. I felt attacked. It seemed like my writing being rejected, but who I am.

Right after a submission was turned down, I would begin the “seven stages of rejection”:

• First, shock. How could this happen? How could editors be blind to my talent?
• Second, denial. Certainly you’ve rejected the incorrect submission? Perhaps it’s an oversight.
• Then, dismissal. What do any of you know? Who made you to decide on my efforts? It’s nonsense and their outlet is subpar. I reject your rejection.
• Fourth, anger at them, followed by anger at myself. Why would I subject myself to this? Could I be a martyr?
• Fifth, pleading (preferably mixed with false hope). What will it take you to acknowledge me as a once-in-a-generation talent?
• Sixth, despair. I’m no good. Additionally, I’ll never be successful.

This continued over many years.

Excellent Examples

Certainly, I was in fine company. Accounts of creators whose manuscripts was at first declined are legion. Herman Melville’s Moby-Dick. The creator of Frankenstein. James Joyce’s Dubliners. Vladimir Nabokov’s Lolita. The author of Catch-22. Virtually all renowned author was originally turned down. Since they did succeed despite no’s, then perhaps I could, too. The basketball legend was not selected for his school team. Most Presidents over the last 60 years had been defeated in elections. Sylvester Stallone claims that his script for Rocky and bid to star were declined numerous times. “I take rejection as someone blowing a bugle to rouse me and get going, not backing down,” he has said.

Acceptance

As time passed, as I reached my later years, I achieved the final phase of setback. Acceptance. Now, I grasp the many reasons why an editor says no. To begin with, an editor may have recently run a comparable article, or have one underway, or be thinking about something along the same lines for another contributor.

Or, more discouragingly, my pitch is uninteresting. Or the evaluator feels I am not qualified or standing to be suitable. Or is no longer in the business for the wares I am offering. Maybe was too distracted and scanned my piece too fast to see its quality.

You can call it an realization. Anything can be declined, and for any reason, and there is pretty much nothing you can do about it. Certain explanations for denial are forever not up to you.

Your Responsibility

Some aspects are your fault. Admittedly, my pitches and submissions may occasionally be flawed. They may lack relevance and appeal, or the point I am trying to express is poorly presented. Alternatively I’m being flagrantly unoriginal. Maybe an aspect about my grammar, especially commas, was offensive.

The point is that, despite all my years of exertion and rejection, I have managed to get recognized. I’ve written two books—the initial one when I was in my fifties, the next, a personal story, at 65—and in excess of 1,000 articles. Those pieces have been published in publications large and small, in local, national and global outlets. My debut commentary was published when I was 26—and I have now submitted to various outlets for half a century.

Yet, no bestsellers, no author events at major stores, no features on TV programs, no Ted Talks, no honors, no Pulitzers, no Nobel, and no Presidential Medal. But I can better handle no at this stage, because my, admittedly modest accomplishments have eased the stings of my setbacks. I can afford to be reflective about it all today.

Educational Setbacks

Setback can be instructive, but only if you heed what it’s indicating. Or else, you will likely just keep taking rejection the wrong way. What teachings have I learned?

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