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Encountering rejection, especially when it recurs often, is not a great feeling. An editor is turning you down, delivering a clear “Nope.” Working in writing, I am familiar with setbacks. I started pitching articles half a century past, upon completing my studies. Over the years, I have had several works turned down, along with book ideas and many short stories. In the last two decades, focusing on commentary, the denials have only increased. On average, I face a rejection every few days—amounting to more than 100 annually. Cumulatively, rejections throughout my life run into thousands. Today, I could claim a master’s in rejection.

But, does this seem like a woe-is-me rant? Not at all. As, finally, at the age of 73, I have accepted being turned down.

How Have I Accomplished This?

A bit of background: At this point, nearly every person and others has rejected me. I’ve never tracked my success rate—doing so would be deeply dispiriting.

As an illustration: lately, an editor turned down 20 submissions one after another before saying yes to one. A few years ago, no fewer than 50 publishing houses vetoed my memoir proposal before someone approved it. Later on, 25 agents rejected a nonfiction book proposal. One editor requested that I send articles only once a month.

The Steps of Setback

When I was younger, each denial hurt. I took them personally. I believed my creation was being turned down, but myself.

No sooner a manuscript was turned down, I would go through the “seven stages of rejection”:

• Initially, surprise. What went wrong? Why would they be blind to my ability?
• Next, refusal to accept. Certainly you’ve rejected the wrong person? It has to be an mistake.
• Third, rejection of the rejection. What can editors know? Who made you to decide on my work? You’re stupid and their outlet is subpar. I reject your rejection.
• Fourth, frustration at the rejecters, followed by anger at myself. Why would I put myself through this? Could I be a masochist?
• Fifth, pleading (often accompanied by delusion). How can I convince you to recognise me as a unique writer?
• Then, sadness. I’m no good. Worse, I’ll never be successful.

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

Great Precedents

Certainly, I was in good fellowship. Tales of writers whose work was initially turned down are numerous. Herman Melville’s Moby-Dick. The creator of Frankenstein. James Joyce’s Dubliners. The novelist of Lolita. The author of Catch-22. Nearly each renowned author was initially spurned. Since they did persevere, then possibly I could, too. Michael Jordan was not selected for his youth squad. Many US presidents over the recent history had been defeated in campaigns. Sylvester Stallone claims that his script for Rocky and desire to star were turned down 1,500 times. For him, denial as a wake-up call to rouse me and persevere, instead of giving up,” he stated.

Acceptance

As time passed, when I entered my senior age, I reached the seventh stage of rejection. Peace. Now, I grasp the many reasons why an editor says no. To begin with, an publisher may have recently run a similar piece, or have something in the pipeline, or just be thinking about something along the same lines for someone else.

Alternatively, unfortunately, my submission is of limited interest. Or the editor thinks I don’t have the experience or reputation to fit the bill. Or is no longer in the market for the work I am offering. Or didn’t focus and scanned my submission too fast to appreciate its abundant merits.

Go ahead call it an awakening. Any work can be declined, and for numerous reasons, and there is pretty much little you can do about it. Certain rationales for denial are forever beyond your control.

Your Responsibility

Others are your fault. Admittedly, my ideas and work may occasionally be flawed. They may be irrelevant and resonance, or the point I am attempting to convey is not compelling enough. Alternatively I’m being flagrantly unoriginal. Or a part about my grammar, notably semicolons, was annoying.

The key is that, despite all my decades of effort and rejection, I have achieved widely published. I’ve authored two books—the initial one when I was in my fifties, the next, a autobiography, at retirement age—and in excess of a thousand pieces. Those pieces have appeared in publications major and minor, in local, national and global sources. My first op-ed ran in my twenties—and I have now written to various outlets for five decades.

Yet, no bestsellers, no book signings in bookshops, no features on popular shows, no Ted Talks, no honors, no Pulitzers, no Nobel Prize, and no national honor. But I can more easily accept no at 73, because my, admittedly modest successes have cushioned the blows of my frequent denials. I can afford to be thoughtful about it all now.

Instructive Rejection

Rejection can be helpful, but when you listen to what it’s indicating. Or else, you will probably just keep interpreting no’s all wrong. So what teachings have I acquired?

{Here’s my advice|My recommendations|What