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Facing refusal, notably when it recurs often, is anything but enjoyable. A publisher is declining your work, giving a clear “Nope.” Working in writing, I am well acquainted with setbacks. I started pitching manuscripts half a century past, right after college graduation. Over the years, I have had multiple books rejected, along with nonfiction proposals and countless essays. In the last two decades, concentrating on op-eds, the rejections have grown more frequent. In a typical week, I get a setback every few days—adding up to in excess of 100 times a year. Overall, rejections throughout my life run into thousands. By now, I could have a PhD in rejection.

However, is this a complaining outburst? Not at all. As, at last, at 73 years old, I have come to terms with rejection.

In What Way Have I Managed This?

For perspective: Now, just about every person and their distant cousin has rejected me. I haven’t kept score my success rate—doing so would be deeply dispiriting.

A case in point: recently, a newspaper editor turned down 20 pieces consecutively before accepting one. A few years ago, no fewer than 50 book publishers rejected my book idea before a single one accepted it. Later on, 25 representatives passed on a project. A particular editor requested that I send potential guest essays only once a month.

My Phases of Rejection

Starting out, every no hurt. I felt attacked. I believed my work was being turned down, but myself.

No sooner a piece was rejected, I would go through the phases of denial:

• Initially, surprise. What went wrong? How could editors be overlook my ability?
• Next, refusal to accept. Surely they rejected the mistake? Perhaps it’s an oversight.
• Third, dismissal. What can any of you know? Who appointed you to judge on my efforts? They’re foolish and your publication stinks. I deny your no.
• After that, anger at them, then self-blame. Why do I do this to myself? Could I be a martyr?
• Subsequently, bargaining (preferably accompanied by false hope). What does it require you to recognise me as a once-in-a-generation talent?
• Then, despair. I’m not talented. Additionally, I can never become accomplished.

I experienced this for decades.

Notable Company

Of course, I was in good fellowship. Tales of writers whose work was at first turned down are plentiful. Herman Melville’s Moby-Dick. The creator of Frankenstein. The writer of Dubliners. The novelist of Lolita. The author of Catch-22. Nearly each famous writer was first rejected. Since they did persevere, then possibly I could, too. Michael Jordan was not selected for his high school basketball team. Most American leaders over the recent history had previously lost elections. The actor-writer says that his script for Rocky and desire to star were turned down 1,500 times. For him, denial as an alarm to rouse me and get going, rather than retreat,” he stated.

The Final Phase

Later, when I entered my senior age, I achieved the final phase of rejection. Acceptance. Now, I grasp the various causes why someone says no. For starters, an reviewer may have recently run a similar piece, or be planning one underway, or just be thinking about something along the same lines for someone else.

Alternatively, more discouragingly, my idea is not appealing. Or maybe the reader thinks I don’t have the experience or reputation to fit the bill. Or is no longer in the business for the content I am peddling. Or was busy and scanned my piece too quickly to appreciate its quality.

Feel free call it an awakening. Any work can be declined, and for whatever cause, and there is virtually little you can do about it. Some reasons for denial are permanently not up to you.

Manageable Factors

Some aspects are under your control. Honestly, my pitches and submissions may from time to time be flawed. They may lack relevance and appeal, or the message I am trying to express is insufficiently dramatised. Or I’m being too similar. Maybe something about my writing style, especially semicolons, was offensive.

The key is that, regardless of all my years of exertion and setbacks, I have succeeded in being widely published. I’ve authored two books—my first when I was middle-aged, the next, a autobiography, at 65—and more than a thousand pieces. Those pieces have appeared in publications big and little, in diverse sources. My first op-ed ran in my twenties—and I have now written to various outlets for half a century.

Yet, no bestsellers, no author events publicly, no spots on popular shows, no Ted Talks, no honors, no Pulitzers, no Nobel Prize, and no medal. But I can more easily take no at 73, because my, small accomplishments have eased the blows of my frequent denials. I can afford to be philosophical about it all at this point.

Valuable Rejection

Denial can be helpful, but only if you pay attention to what it’s indicating. If not, you will likely just keep seeing denial incorrectly. What teachings have I gained?

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