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Experiencing refusal, notably when it occurs frequently, is anything but enjoyable. Someone is declining your work, giving a firm “No.” As a writer, I am well acquainted with setbacks. I commenced pitching story ideas 50 years back, just after college graduation. Over the years, I have had two novels declined, along with nonfiction proposals and many short stories. During the recent two decades, specializing in op-eds, the denials have multiplied. Regularly, I face a setback frequently—adding up to over 100 annually. Cumulatively, rejections throughout my life run into thousands. By now, I could claim a PhD in rejection.

So, is this a complaining outburst? Not at all. Because, finally, at the age of 73, I have embraced being turned down.

How Have I Accomplished It?

A bit of background: By this stage, almost every person and their relatives has rejected me. I haven’t tracked my acceptance statistics—doing so would be quite demoralizing.

A case in point: not long ago, a newspaper editor turned down 20 submissions one after another before accepting one. A few years ago, at least 50 editors vetoed my memoir proposal before a single one accepted it. Later on, 25 representatives passed on a book pitch. One editor suggested that I send potential guest essays only once a month.

The Phases of Setback

When I was younger, all rejections were painful. I took them personally. It was not just my writing being rejected, but myself.

As soon as a piece was rejected, I would start the process of setback:

• First, surprise. Why did this occur? Why would editors be ignore my ability?
• Second, refusal to accept. Certainly it’s the mistake? This must be an oversight.
• Then, dismissal. What do editors know? Who made you to hand down rulings on my labours? You’re stupid and the magazine is poor. I refuse this refusal.
• After that, anger at those who rejected me, then self-blame. Why would I do this to myself? Could I be a masochist?
• Subsequently, negotiating (preferably seasoned with optimism). What will it take you to see me as a once-in-a-generation talent?
• Sixth, despair. I’m not talented. Additionally, I’ll never be accomplished.

So it went through my 30s, 40s and 50s.

Great Examples

Naturally, I was in fine company. Stories of creators whose work was at first rejected are plentiful. The author of Moby-Dick. Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. The writer of Dubliners. Vladimir Nabokov’s Lolita. The author of Catch-22. Virtually all renowned author was first rejected. If they could succeed despite no’s, then perhaps I could, too. The sports icon was dropped from his high school basketball team. Many American leaders over the past six decades had been defeated in elections. Sylvester Stallone claims that his script for Rocky and attempt to star were declined 1,500 times. “I take rejection as a wake-up call to wake me up and keep moving, instead of giving up,” he stated.

The Seventh Stage

Then, as I reached my 60s and 70s, I entered the final phase of setback. Peace. Currently, I more clearly see the many reasons why an editor says no. For starters, an publisher may have just published a comparable article, or be planning one underway, or simply be contemplating something along the same lines for another contributor.

Or, less promisingly, my pitch is of limited interest. Or maybe the editor thinks I am not qualified or stature to be suitable. Or is no longer in the business for the work I am offering. Or was busy and scanned my submission too quickly to recognize its abundant merits.

Feel free call it an awakening. Any work can be declined, and for whatever cause, and there is pretty much not much you can do about it. Some reasons for denial are forever out of your hands.

Manageable Factors

Some aspects are within it. Honestly, my pitches and submissions may sometimes be flawed. They may lack relevance and resonance, or the point I am attempting to convey is not compelling enough. Alternatively I’m being flagrantly unoriginal. Maybe something about my writing style, notably commas, was annoying.

The essence is that, despite all my decades of effort and rejection, I have achieved widely published. I’ve written several titles—the initial one when I was 51, the next, a autobiography, at older—and over numerous essays. Those pieces have been published in magazines big and little, in local, national and global sources. An early piece appeared when I was 26—and I have now written to many places for 50 years.

However, no major hits, no author events publicly, no appearances on TV programs, no speeches, no book awards, no big awards, no Nobel, and no medal. But I can more easily handle no at 73, because my, admittedly modest accomplishments have softened the stings of my many rejections. I can now be reflective about it all now.

Educational Rejection

Setback can be educational, but provided that you listen to what it’s indicating. Or else, you will likely just keep seeing denial all wrong. So what insights have I acquired?

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