Taking Rejection Constructively
Diana M. Raab -- February 11, 2008
I embrace rejections and don't get down on myself when they arrive in my mailbox. I've learned to accept them as part of the literary life that I have chosen for myself. Since I've moved to a house where I have to walk down the hill to get my mail, I've found that my days revolve around the mail delivery. I make sure to run my errands just after the mail arrives.
When I return home, I park in front of the mailbox, dodge out and unload the bundle, return to the car and dump it on my lap. These days the bulk of mail received are bills and magazines, but buried in those rudimentary items are usually one or two of those SASE's I've stuffed into a submission envelope sometimes as much as six months earlier.
If my husband is with me, he laughs and wonders why I can't wait until I get home to rip open the envelopes. I tell him that he's not a writer and just does not understand. So there I sit in front of the mailbox, sometimes blocking traffic as I frantically flip through the pile looking for the defending envelope with my name stamped on the front. I wait to open the thin ones at home. I know they are form rejections. The envelopes that offer a little substance, provide me with a smidgen of hope that maybe it's a contract or a detailed acceptance letter. As a writer I need confirmation that someone has read my work.
I often wonder about this obsession with rejection. Are other writers the same way? Did this compulsion originate in the womb? Or was it on my first day of kindergarten when my mother's heart was filled with glee to send me off to school? Or was it because of the first guy I had a crush on who happened to love someone else? Or was it the day I bumped into Eric Clapton at a concert and he didn't smile back at me?
Maybe these days any attention is better than no attention. For instance, they say that a bad review is better than no review – at least it's some acknowledgement of your existence. If the New York Times gave space to review your book – even if it wasn't a favorable review – the book must have had some significance.
Somehow I don't think this craving for acknowledgement is unique to me. I sense most writers live in a similar world as I shared my mailbox story with some writer friends at the coffee shop the other day. I received knowing smiles and some even shared their own mailbox stories.
Most of my rejections get tossed into the garbage. Why keep the same Xeroxed letters received by umpteen writers across the country, like the ones we receive from the esteemed New Yorker? However, there are two types of rejection notes that I cannot bear tossing out, mainly because of their uniqueness. For example, the one from a literary journal which bluntly states "No thank you," scribbled on a ripped off corner of an envelope or the one which says, "Save your postage and don't send priority post. It does not make editors read your work more quickly!"
The other kind, (thankfully I get more of these), are personalized letters from editors explaining that they really liked my work, but it doesn't fit into their editorial plans. Sometimes they might share some specific reasons or explain how my essay or proposal could be improved.
I value these letters and spend time reading them because I believe that if the editor took the time to write me a personal letter, then the work is worthy and they might want to hear from me again. Often times, a few weeks later, I might submit work to these editors, while my name is still on their radar. There might have been something about my writing style or approach that they liked, so why not try them again? A mentor of mine once told me that eventually editors become familiar with your name and for good measure – out of sympathy – might even accept your piece. This has happened to me more than once.
I do try to maximize my potential for acceptance by first researching the publication before sending submissions. When submitting work to journals I usually check out their website and reviewing pieces they've previously accepted. I might also wander to my bookshelf where I keep sample copies. It's important to be very familiar with the type of work each journal publishes. Once I won an essay contest after following the style of an essay that won the year before. I believe that writers can and should learn by example.
Patience is also a wonderful virtue to have and by submitting your work to many places you also increase your chances of acceptance. Persistence is the key to the process of getting accepted. This persistence can refine your writing, as well as your skills as a salesperson.
I also cannot emphasize enough the importance of writing about what inspires you. This will end up being your best writing, and good writing does eventually get accepted for publication, so being persistent with your own interests and passions is essential.
I advise saving good rejections, those which talk positively about your writing, and to look back at them whenever you're feeling down about your publishing prospects. These letters are a useful barometer of your progress. In fact, if good rejections are on the rise, you know you're on the right track and that publication may be just around the corner!