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Facing denial, notably when it occurs frequently, is anything but enjoyable. A publisher is declining your work, giving a definite “Not interested.” As a writer, I am no stranger to rejection. I started pitching manuscripts half a century past, right after finishing university. Over the years, I have had two novels rejected, along with nonfiction proposals and countless essays. In the last two decades, specializing in commentary, the rejections have only increased. On average, I get a setback every few days—adding up to in excess of 100 each year. Cumulatively, denials over my career number in the thousands. Today, I could have a advanced degree in handling no’s.

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

In What Way Have I Managed It?

A bit of background: At this point, nearly everyone and their distant cousin has rejected me. I haven’t kept score my acceptance statistics—it would be quite demoralizing.

As an illustration: lately, an editor nixed 20 articles consecutively before approving one. A few years ago, no fewer than 50 editors vetoed my book idea before a single one accepted it. Later on, 25 literary agents rejected a project. An editor requested that I send articles less often.

My Steps of Rejection

In my 20s, all rejections were painful. It felt like a personal affront. It seemed like my writing being rejected, but me as a person.

As soon as a piece was turned down, I would begin the phases of denial:

• First, surprise. Why did this occur? How could they be ignore my talent?
• Next, refusal to accept. Maybe you’ve rejected the incorrect submission? This must be an administrative error.
• Third, dismissal. What do they know? Who made you to decide on my efforts? They’re foolish and the magazine stinks. I refuse this refusal.
• Fourth, frustration at those who rejected me, followed by self-blame. Why would I subject myself to this? Could I be a masochist?
• Subsequently, bargaining (preferably mixed with false hope). What will it take you to acknowledge me as a unique writer?
• Sixth, despair. I’m no good. Worse, I can never become accomplished.

This continued for decades.

Great Precedents

Certainly, I was in good company. Tales of creators whose manuscripts was initially turned down are plentiful. The author of Moby-Dick. Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. James Joyce’s Dubliners. The novelist of Lolita. The author of Catch-22. Virtually all renowned author was first rejected. Since they did persevere, then perhaps I could, too. The basketball legend was cut from his school team. The majority of American leaders over the past six decades had earlier failed in elections. The actor-writer estimates that his Rocky screenplay and desire to appear were turned down repeatedly. He said rejection as someone blowing a bugle to wake me up and persevere, rather than retreat,” he has said.

The Seventh Stage

Then, upon arriving at my later years, I entered the seventh stage of setback. Acceptance. Currently, I better understand the many reasons why someone says no. For starters, an reviewer may have recently run a comparable article, or have something in the pipeline, or simply be contemplating a similar topic for a different writer.

Alternatively, more discouragingly, my idea is not appealing. Or maybe the reader thinks I lack the credentials or stature to fit the bill. Perhaps is no longer in the business for the work I am offering. Maybe was too distracted and reviewed my submission hastily to appreciate its value.

You can call it an awakening. Everything can be rejected, and for any reason, and there is pretty much not much you can do about it. Many reasons for denial are forever beyond your control.

Within Control

Additional reasons are your fault. Honestly, my ideas and work may from time to time be poorly thought out. They may lack relevance and appeal, or the point I am attempting to convey is insufficiently dramatised. Alternatively I’m being obviously derivative. Or an aspect about my punctuation, especially commas, was offensive.

The point is that, despite all my years of exertion and rejection, I have achieved published in many places. I’ve published two books—the initial one when I was in my fifties, the next, a autobiography, at older—and over a thousand pieces. Those pieces have been published in publications large and small, in diverse outlets. My debut commentary appeared in my twenties—and I have now submitted to that publication for half a century.

Still, no bestsellers, no author events in bookshops, no spots on talk shows, no speeches, no honors, no Pulitzers, no international recognition, and no Presidential Medal. But I can better handle rejection at my age, because my, admittedly modest accomplishments have eased the blows of my frequent denials. I can choose to be philosophical about it all today.

Instructive Rejection

Denial can be educational, but when you pay attention to what it’s attempting to show. If not, you will probably just keep taking rejection incorrectly. So what teachings have I learned?

{Here’s my advice|My recommendations|What