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Facing denial, especially when it occurs frequently, is anything but enjoyable. Someone is turning you down, delivering a firm “Nope.” As a writer, I am well acquainted with rejection. I began proposing manuscripts half a century past, upon completing my studies. Over the years, I have had multiple books turned down, along with nonfiction proposals and numerous pieces. In the last two decades, specializing in op-eds, the rejections have only increased. In a typical week, I face a setback every few days—amounting to more than 100 each year. Cumulatively, denials throughout my life run into thousands. At this point, I might as well have a advanced degree in handling no’s.

But, is this a complaining rant? Not at all. Because, finally, at seven decades plus three, I have accepted being turned down.

In What Way Have I Accomplished It?

A bit of background: Now, almost every person and others has given me a thumbs-down. I’ve never kept score my success rate—doing so would be deeply dispiriting.

A case in point: not long ago, a publication nixed 20 submissions in a row before saying yes to one. Back in 2016, over 50 book publishers declined my memoir proposal before a single one gave the green light. A few years later, 25 representatives rejected a nonfiction book proposal. One editor requested that I send articles only once a month.

The Seven Stages of Rejection

Starting out, every no hurt. I felt attacked. It was not just my writing being rejected, but myself.

Right after a manuscript was turned down, I would go through the phases of denial:

• Initially, shock. Why did this occur? Why would these people be ignore my ability?
• Second, denial. Surely it’s the mistake? This must be an oversight.
• Third, rejection of the rejection. What do editors know? Who appointed you to decide on my efforts? You’re stupid and their outlet is poor. I deny your no.
• Fourth, anger at those who rejected me, then anger at myself. Why would I subject myself to this? Could I be a martyr?
• Subsequently, pleading (often mixed with delusion). How can I convince you to acknowledge me as a exceptional creator?
• Sixth, despair. I’m not talented. Worse, I can never become accomplished.

This continued through my 30s, 40s and 50s.

Great Precedents

Certainly, I was in good fellowship. Stories of writers whose work was originally rejected are plentiful. The author of Moby-Dick. The creator of Frankenstein. James Joyce’s Dubliners. The novelist of Lolita. The author of Catch-22. Virtually all renowned author was originally turned down. Because they managed to persevere, then maybe I could, too. The sports icon was not selected for his high school basketball team. Many US presidents over the past six decades had previously lost elections. The actor-writer says that his script for Rocky and bid to appear were declined 1,500 times. “I take rejection as someone blowing a bugle to rouse me and get going, instead of giving up,” he remarked.

Acceptance

Then, upon arriving at my senior age, I reached the last step of setback. Understanding. Today, I more clearly see the various causes why an editor says no. Firstly, an publisher may have recently run a comparable article, or have something in the pipeline, or be thinking about that idea for another contributor.

Alternatively, unfortunately, my submission is not appealing. Or maybe the editor believes I don’t have the experience or stature to be suitable. Perhaps isn’t in the field for the content I am offering. Or was busy and reviewed my submission too quickly to recognize its value.

You can call it an epiphany. Anything can be declined, and for whatever cause, and there is almost little you can do about it. Certain reasons for rejection are forever out of your hands.

Your Responsibility

Others are within it. Honestly, my proposals may occasionally be flawed. They may not resonate and impact, or the idea I am trying to express is not compelling enough. Or I’m being flagrantly unoriginal. Maybe something about my grammar, especially semicolons, was offensive.

The essence is that, despite all my years of exertion and setbacks, I have managed to get recognized. I’ve written two books—the initial one when I was in my fifties, the next, a memoir, at retirement age—and more than 1,000 articles. Those pieces have featured in magazines big and little, in regional, worldwide sources. My first op-ed ran decades ago—and I have now written to many places for five decades.

Still, no bestsellers, no signings publicly, no appearances on TV programs, no Ted Talks, no book awards, no big awards, no Nobel Prize, and no national honor. But I can more readily accept rejection at my age, because my, small accomplishments have eased the blows of my frequent denials. I can now be thoughtful about it all today.

Instructive Setbacks

Setback can be instructive, but provided that you listen to what it’s attempting to show. Otherwise, you will probably just keep interpreting no’s the wrong way. What insights have I gained?

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