Embracing Denial: Lessons from Half a Century of Writing Journey

Facing denial, especially when it occurs frequently, is far from pleasant. Someone is turning you down, giving a firm “Nope.” As a writer, I am well acquainted with rejection. I commenced pitching manuscripts five decades ago, upon college graduation. Since then, I have had several works rejected, along with book ideas and countless pieces. Over the past 20 years, specializing in op-eds, the refusals have only increased. In a typical week, I face a setback frequently—adding up to more than 100 annually. In total, rejections throughout my life exceed a thousand. Today, I could have a advanced degree in handling no’s.

But, does this seem like a woe-is-me outburst? Far from it. Because, now, at 73 years old, I have accepted being turned down.

By What Means Have I Accomplished This?

Some context: Now, just about every person and others has given me a thumbs-down. I’ve never counted my success rate—it would be quite demoralizing.

A case in point: lately, a publication turned down 20 submissions consecutively before saying yes to one. A few years ago, no fewer than 50 publishing houses vetoed my book idea before someone gave the green light. Later on, 25 literary agents rejected a book pitch. A particular editor requested that I send potential guest essays less often.

The Phases of Rejection

Starting out, every no were painful. I felt attacked. It seemed like my work was being turned down, but myself.

No sooner a submission was rejected, I would begin the “seven stages of rejection”:

• Initially, surprise. What went wrong? Why would these people be overlook my ability?
• Next, refusal to accept. Surely you’ve rejected the mistake? This must be an mistake.
• Third, dismissal. What do editors know? Who appointed you to decide on my labours? You’re stupid and your publication stinks. I reject your rejection.
• After that, frustration at them, followed by anger at myself. Why would I do this to myself? Could I be a masochist?
• Subsequently, negotiating (preferably seasoned with false hope). How can I convince you to recognise me as a unique writer?
• Sixth, depression. I’m not talented. Worse, I can never become accomplished.

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

Great Company

Of course, I was in fine company. Tales of creators whose books was originally declined are numerous. The author of Moby-Dick. Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. The writer of Dubliners. The novelist of Lolita. The author of Catch-22. Nearly each famous writer was originally turned down. Because they managed to overcome rejection, then possibly I could, too. Michael Jordan was cut from his youth squad. The majority of American leaders over the last 60 years had been defeated in elections. Sylvester Stallone says that his Rocky screenplay and desire to star were turned down 1,500 times. He said rejection as someone blowing a bugle to motivate me and get going, not backing down,” he has said.

The Final Phase

As time passed, upon arriving at my 60s and 70s, I achieved the seventh stage of rejection. Acceptance. Currently, I grasp the various causes why a publisher says no. Firstly, an publisher may have just published a like work, or have something in the pipeline, or be thinking about something along the same lines for another contributor.

Alternatively, unfortunately, my pitch is not appealing. Or maybe the evaluator thinks I lack the credentials or standing to fit the bill. Perhaps is no longer in the market for the content I am peddling. Or was busy and scanned my submission too quickly to see its abundant merits.

Feel free call it an awakening. Any work can be rejected, and for numerous reasons, and there is pretty much nothing you can do about it. Certain rationales for rejection are always beyond your control.

Your Responsibility

Others are under your control. Honestly, my proposals may sometimes be ill-conceived. They may be irrelevant and appeal, or the message I am trying to express is poorly presented. Or I’m being too similar. Maybe something about my writing style, particularly semicolons, was annoying.

The essence is that, despite all my decades of effort and rejection, I have managed to get widely published. I’ve written several titles—the initial one when I was in my fifties, the next, a personal story, at older—and more than a thousand pieces. These works have been published in newspapers big and little, in regional, worldwide sources. My first op-ed was published decades ago—and I have now submitted to that publication for 50 years.

However, no blockbusters, no book signings at major stores, no features on popular shows, no Ted Talks, no prizes, no Pulitzers, no international recognition, and no Presidential Medal. But I can better accept rejection at 73, because my, humble accomplishments have cushioned the jolts of my setbacks. I can choose to be reflective about it all now.

Educational Rejection

Setback can be instructive, but provided that you heed what it’s trying to teach. If not, you will almost certainly just keep interpreting no’s the wrong way. What insights have I gained?

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