Handling Rejection

I have written about rejection in the past but I need to do so again. If I composed an essay every time one of my stories got rejected, I would have time to write nothing else. But this one stung. Several months ago I learned about an anthology whose theme was close to my heart. The guidelines stipulated that writers should first write a synopsis of their idea and send it to the editor for approval; I did that and the editor gave me the go-ahead to proceed. It took me about a week to write and proofread the story. After I sent it in, I waited far too anxiously during the many weeks that followed. The correct procedure is to write a story, send it out, and then forget about it and move on to the next one. I did move on to compose more stories, essays, and memoirs, but in errant moments I also fell into the cheap thrill of daydreaming and imagining that once the story got accepted it would obtain approval of readership and draw attention to my other works. A formula for disaster, I know, but I couldn’t help it. I badly needed a win. So when this particular rejection came, I felt as if I had been punched in the face – you know: that devastating punch that knocks you off your feet and onto the floor of the ring. It physically hurt, somewhere deep inside behind my solar plexus. I even let out a couple of involuntary sobs and came close to tears. Unable to cope with my grief, I got up from the chair where I’d been sitting in front of the computer and began to pace. I went outside on the balcony, watched dark clouds scud across the sky, and felt the cold, bracing wind. For a few minutes I despaired and wondered if it would make any difference to me or to anyone else if I never wrote another word.

The physical pain and despair didn’t last long. As I said, I have been rejected many times before. I began making a quick count of them from the story logs I have kept since the mid-1990s, but I gave up; I simply don’t have the time. As a rough estimation without any exaggeration, there are thousands. And I don’t say this to deter you from becoming a writer, if that’s what you feel compelled to be. Writing as a creative art form is vastly different from the business of somehow getting your completed works in the hands of readers. For me writing, at least most of the time, is pure pleasure. It’s the other part that’s difficult, whether you choose the traditional route of going through publishers or you self-publish or, like me, you choose a hybrid path and utilize both.

However you manage your career, the image of the boxer comes up again and again. The only way to win is to take the punches, to get up again when you are knocked down, and to keep fighting as long as there is breath in your body. Come to think of it, that’s how it is with many things that we strive to accomplish in life. A lucky few achieve success through nepotism, but most of us have to struggle to fulfill our dreams. The point? Don’t quit. If you get knocked down, get back up again. If your story gets rejected, don’t despair. Weep if you must, but then send it out to the next magazine or anthology on your list.

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I feel compelled to add a postscript to this to illustrate the often strange machinations of the publishing world. Shortly after I wrote the above, I sent off a fairly new story to a well-paying anthology and then went off to have some dinner. By the time I returned a couple of hours later, the editor had already written back that he liked the story and was accepting it. Wow! You never know.