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Experiencing refusal, especially when it occurs frequently, is not a great feeling. Someone is declining your work, delivering a clear “Nope.” Being an author, I am no stranger to setbacks. I commenced proposing story ideas five decades ago, right after college graduation. From that point, I have had multiple books turned down, along with nonfiction proposals and many short stories. Over the past two decades, concentrating on op-eds, the refusals have grown more frequent. Regularly, I receive a setback multiple times weekly—adding up to more than 100 times a year. Overall, rejections over my career run into thousands. Today, I could have a master’s in rejection.

However, does this seem like a woe-is-me rant? Far from it. Since, at last, at the age of 73, I have accepted being turned down.

By What Means Have I Accomplished This?

For perspective: By this stage, nearly everyone and their relatives has given me a thumbs-down. I haven’t counted my win-lose ratio—it would be deeply dispiriting.

A case in point: lately, a newspaper editor turned down 20 submissions one after another before accepting one. In 2016, no fewer than 50 book publishers declined my manuscript before a single one approved it. A few years later, 25 representatives passed on a project. One editor requested that I send articles less often.

The Phases of Rejection

In my 20s, all rejections hurt. It felt like a personal affront. I believed my creation was being turned down, but me as a person.

No sooner a manuscript was turned down, I would start the process of setback:

• First, disbelief. What went wrong? Why would editors be ignore my ability?
• Next, refusal to accept. Surely they rejected the mistake? This must be an mistake.
• Then, rejection of the rejection. What can editors know? Who made you to hand down rulings on my efforts? It’s nonsense and the magazine is subpar. I refuse this refusal.
• Fourth, frustration at the rejecters, then frustration with me. Why do I subject myself to this? Am I a martyr?
• Subsequently, pleading (preferably accompanied by optimism). What will it take you to recognise me as a exceptional creator?
• Sixth, despair. I lack skill. Worse, I can never become successful.

This continued for decades.

Excellent Precedents

Of course, I was in excellent company. Tales of writers whose manuscripts was originally rejected are plentiful. Herman Melville’s Moby-Dick. The creator of Frankenstein. The writer of Dubliners. Vladimir Nabokov’s Lolita. Joseph Heller’s Catch-22. Virtually all renowned author was first rejected. Because they managed to succeed despite no’s, then perhaps I could, too. The sports icon was not selected for his school team. Many American leaders over the recent history had been defeated in races. Sylvester Stallone says that his script for Rocky and bid to appear were declined repeatedly. For him, denial as an alarm to rouse me and persevere, instead of giving up,” he remarked.

The Final Phase

Later, as I reached my 60s and 70s, I entered the seventh stage of rejection. Peace. Currently, I grasp the various causes why an editor says no. For starters, an publisher may have just published a like work, or be planning one underway, or just be thinking about something along the same lines for another contributor.

Alternatively, more discouragingly, my idea is not appealing. Or maybe the editor thinks I lack the credentials or reputation to succeed. Perhaps isn’t in the field for the content I am offering. Or was busy and reviewed my piece hastily to recognize its abundant merits.

You can call it an epiphany. Everything can be rejected, and for numerous reasons, and there is virtually nothing you can do about it. Some explanations for rejection are permanently beyond your control.

Within Control

Others are your fault. Admittedly, my proposals may from time to time be flawed. They may lack relevance and impact, or the point I am struggling to articulate is not compelling enough. Alternatively I’m being too similar. Or something about my writing style, especially dashes, was offensive.

The point is that, in spite of all my years of exertion and setbacks, I have succeeded in being widely published. I’ve published multiple works—my first when I was 51, another, a memoir, at 65—and over 1,000 articles. These works have appeared in publications big and little, in local, national and global outlets. My first op-ed ran when I was 26—and I have now contributed to various outlets for 50 years.

However, no bestsellers, no book signings in bookshops, no spots on TV programs, no speeches, no honors, no big awards, no Nobel, and no national honor. But I can more easily handle no at 73, because my, admittedly modest successes have softened the stings of my setbacks. I can choose to be thoughtful about it all today.

Instructive Setbacks

Rejection can be educational, but only if you listen to what it’s trying to teach. Or else, you will likely just keep seeing denial the wrong way. So what lessons have I learned?

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