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Facing rejection, particularly when it recurs often, is far from pleasant. A publisher is declining your work, delivering a definite “Not interested.” As a writer, I am no stranger to setbacks. I began submitting manuscripts 50 years back, right after finishing university. Since then, I have had two novels declined, along with nonfiction proposals and countless pieces. During the recent score of years, concentrating on commentary, the denials have multiplied. On average, I receive a setback frequently—adding up to more than 100 each year. In total, denials over my career exceed a thousand. Today, I could have a advanced degree in handling no’s.

However, is this a self-pitying rant? Not at all. Since, finally, at seven decades plus three, I have accepted being turned down.

How Did I Achieve It?

A bit of background: By this stage, almost everyone and their distant cousin has given me a thumbs-down. I’ve never kept score my win-lose ratio—it would be quite demoralizing.

As an illustration: recently, a publication rejected 20 submissions consecutively before approving one. Back in 2016, over 50 publishing houses declined my memoir proposal before one accepted it. A few years later, 25 literary agents declined a project. An editor even asked that I submit my work less frequently.

The Phases of Rejection

In my 20s, every no were painful. I took them personally. It was not just my work being rejected, but me as a person.

As soon as a submission was rejected, I would go through the phases of denial:

• First, shock. How could this happen? Why would editors be overlook my ability?
• Second, refusal to accept. Certainly you’ve rejected the incorrect submission? It has to be an mistake.
• Then, rejection of the rejection. What do they know? Who made you to hand down rulings on my labours? They’re foolish and your publication is poor. I reject your rejection.
• Fourth, frustration at them, followed by frustration with me. Why would I put myself through this? Could I be a masochist?
• Fifth, negotiating (often accompanied by delusion). How can I convince you to acknowledge me as a once-in-a-generation talent?
• Then, depression. I’m no good. Worse, I’ll never be successful.

So it went for decades.

Notable Examples

Certainly, I was in excellent fellowship. Tales of authors whose work was at first declined are numerous. The author of Moby-Dick. The creator of Frankenstein. The writer of Dubliners. The novelist of Lolita. The author of Catch-22. Nearly each renowned author was first rejected. Because they managed to persevere, then possibly I could, too. Michael Jordan was cut from his youth squad. Many American leaders over the past six decades had previously lost races. Sylvester Stallone estimates that his Rocky screenplay and bid to appear were rejected repeatedly. He said rejection as someone blowing a bugle to rouse me and persevere, rather than retreat,” he remarked.

Acceptance

As time passed, upon arriving at my later years, I reached the seventh stage of setback. Peace. Now, I more clearly see the multiple factors why someone says no. To begin with, an reviewer may have already featured a like work, or be planning one underway, or just be considering that idea for another contributor.

Or, more discouragingly, my pitch is of limited interest. Or the evaluator thinks I don’t have the experience or reputation to succeed. Perhaps is no longer in the market for the wares I am submitting. Or was busy and reviewed my piece hastily to appreciate its abundant merits.

Go ahead call it an realization. Any work can be rejected, and for whatever cause, and there is pretty much little you can do about it. Certain reasons for rejection are permanently not up to you.

Your Responsibility

Additional reasons are within it. Let’s face it, my proposals may occasionally be ill-conceived. They may lack relevance and appeal, or the idea I am struggling to articulate is not compelling enough. Or I’m being too similar. Or something about my writing style, notably semicolons, was annoying.

The key is that, in spite of all my years of exertion and rejection, I have managed to get recognized. I’ve written two books—my first when I was middle-aged, my second, a memoir, at older—and in excess of a thousand pieces. Those pieces have appeared in magazines major and minor, in diverse platforms. My first op-ed was published decades ago—and I have now contributed to many places for 50 years.

Yet, no major hits, no author events publicly, no spots on talk shows, no speeches, no book awards, no big awards, no Nobel, and no Presidential Medal. But I can better handle no at my age, because my, admittedly modest successes have eased the blows of my setbacks. I can choose to be philosophical about it all today.

Instructive Rejection

Setback can be instructive, but when you pay attention to what it’s indicating. Otherwise, you will almost certainly just keep interpreting no’s all wrong. So what insights have I learned?

{Here’s my advice|My recommendations|What