A Note on Handling Rejection
I went to elementary school in a tiny parochial school on Long Island. One of our classes from kindergarten all the way through eighth grade was a once-a-week library session with Sister Dorothy, the school librarian. She was one of the most passionate people I have ever known, and I owe a lot to her. In particular, I owe a lot to the ways in which she introduced us to the world of books and publishing. I remember her not only reading books to us or, as we grew older, helping us learn the Dewey Decimal System to track down books for research papers, but teaching about how the minds behind the pages — the authors, the editors, the agents, the publishers.
One afternoon in what I think was either the second or third grade, she showed us a video of author interviews talking about their paths to publication. They spoke about their inspiration behind their stories, their writing processes, and their rejections. One woman said that her book was rejected eight times before she finally got that long-awaited, Yes!
I learned two things from this video:
Writing books is a job, and it was one that I wanted to have.
Writing books is a hard job, and I had to be okay with that.
The most common thing all aspirational authors hear is how tough this business is.
We’re told over and over again that we have to grow thick skins, because rejection is a part of the process and there’s no getting around it. It happens to everyone. You pour your heart into something, ship it off to a magazine editor or a press or an agent only to be told, “No, no, no.” We’re reminded of all the greats who came before us, of how they struggled, too: Stephen King speared rejection letters on a nail until that nail fell off of his wall; the Harry Potter series was turned down twelve times before Bloomsbury bought it; one magazine told Hemingway that it would be in “extremely rotten taste” to publish his work. For every ten stories that I send out, I might maybe possibly sell one. Two if I’m lucky. None if I’m in a dry spell. This is the reality of publishing.
What we aren’t told? How to handle that rejection. How to get back on the horse after getting thrown off one time, two times, three times, more. How to keep picking yourself up when it feels like the whole world is trying to keep you on the ground.
I’ve been thinking about this a lot recently. I even wrote a quick Twitter thread of advice for writers new to the submissions process. But as I’ve ridden the rejection train these past few weeks, I’ve wanted to talk more about it — because there will always be more to say than, “Toughen up”, and maybe my methods of dealing with the inevitable barrage of no, thank yous will help another writer out there struggling with the same things.
The most important thing I want to remind you: It’s okay to feel your feelings.
Rejection hurts. This morning I got an email from a press I adore, for an anthology call I was excited for, turning down a story that I really believe in. It sucked, and I don’t have to bottle up that feeling just because it happens to everyone. I can acknowledge that I’m sad about it. I can be upset — and I was.
And then I checked my list of presses, magazines, and open calls and picked one out to send the story to. I looked at my list of current works-in-progress and picked one to focus on this weekend, so that I’ll have yet another story to throw into the mix. I kept working, because, for me, being in motion helps.
That’s my second tip: always have something in the works.
I keep spreadsheets of my stories and of markets I’d like to submit to. I update them frequently. At any given time, I have stories out on submissions, stories in progress, stories being edited. I’m constantly researching markets, constantly reading anthologies and magazines, constantly tracking down the next publisher that might be a fit for my stories. I’m working hard to build a solid catalogue of works that will (hopefully, fingers crossed) all find their perfect homes. This keeps me busy enough not to dwell on the swinging door of rejection letters and keeps me excited about writing and submitting in general.
One of the hardest things is to not take rejections personally. Because, of course, our work is personal. There is a little piece of myself in every story, poem, script, essay that I write. And when you’re pouring your heart out on the page, it’s hard to have that page turned down. It stings. The truth is that the publisher is doing their job: they’re trying to find pieces that fit their magazine, journal, anthology, or press. That piece I had rejected this morning? The publisher noted that they genuinely enjoyed my story, but that it simply wasn’t the right fit for the anthology they were compiling. This could be because other submissions fit together better, or because there was an element of my story that didn’t quite match what the publisher was looking for. It’s not that they felt the story was bad or that I wasn’t a talented writer — it was that my piece just didn’t fit their vision for the anthology. The story got turned down. The writer did not.
I remind myself of this with any rejection, whether it’s a form letter or a personalized note. The publisher rejected the story, not me. They rejected the poem, not me. Framing the process this way, and remembering that each acceptance or rejection is a business decision on the part of the publisher, has helped me keep perspective. We’re all just doing our jobs, right? The writers are writing and submitting, the publishers are making the tough calls.
And on that note, when good stuff does come along — positive feedback from beta readers, a kind acceptance or rejection, a text from a friend cheering you on — save it. Hang on to the good stuff, and let that good stuff help you remember your “why”.
We all started writing for a reason. Mine is that I’d lose my mind if I didn’t do it. Writing is how I process emotions, how I process the world around me. It’s how I grapple with tough topics and is also where I go to rest when the world feels too heavy. I write because stories have meant so much to me over the years, and if just one of my stories makes just one person feel a little less alone, then all of this has been worth it. That’s the stuff that keeps me going, that keeps me writing and submitting even when rejection letters start to pile up.
The last thing I’d like to leave you with before we part ways is: find a support system. Friends and family are of course wonderful support, but I also suggestion connecting with fellow writers. They’re the ones who are in this boat with you, the ones who get why it’s hard to paddle sometimes. Join a critique group, check out your local NaNoWriMo regional group, ask your local library or independent bookstore if any writing groups meet there (or if you can form one!). There are also great options available online! I’m biased, but the #WriteAndWine group on Twitter phenomenal and so incredibly supportive of one another (and we have a Discord server for 24/7 writer chatting!). I find that my writing friends are the ones I most often talk to about rejections, submissions, plot holes, drafting, editing — all that kind of stuff.
That day in the school library, my then-best friend leaned over to me and whispered, “These people can’t be that good if their books get rejected so much.”, and her little eight-year-old observation could not be farther from the truth. Talented, incredible, remarkable, thought-provoking, beautiful writers get rejected every day. They get rejected because this business is tough, just like we’re always told. But they get published because they keep pushing. Because they got back up over and over and over again. I hope that these tips can help you do that, too. I know it’s hard, but I also know that writers are strong.
I’m strong. You are, too. And we’ve got this.