Rejection is the result of poor targeting. Read the lit-mags. Analyze where your work will really be appreciated. No one has ever written a story / essay / poem that "fits" every lit-mag ever conceived. Read widely to find YOUR niche - - and you will get more acceptances.
I am going to disagree with this. I read and studied the lit mags where I wanted to be published, and they simply rejected me. The places I got published happened because of... numbers, persistence, being in the right place at the right time.
What I learned from them is, while you can still learn from what they publish and the voices they like, stick to your beliefs, what is true to you. I keep about 100 submissions active. I just got rejected by Granta today. No worries. Last week I even got a personalized rejection from the New Yorker. So target everything within the scope you want to achieve. Numbers, numbers, numbers.
Luis, that's wonderful - - a personalized rejection from The New Yorker. Well, of course, it's persistence, luck, timing, and a numbers game, too. * * * * Reminder: The New Yorker publishes 47 issues a year; since they print two poems per issue, that is 94 poems (which includes the poetry of DEAD poets) - - and many, many, many rejections.
Claire, a young British male was grousing on BlueSky that he had NEVER had any acceptances & asked what was he doing wrong. I gave this stranger 3 tips; 1 tip was READ THE LIT-MAGS & target better. He replied on BlueSky that he "had never thought of that"! [mic drop]
Validation? Success? Stop kidding yourself. Your book will never win a life-changing award, never be shelved in a major library, never be a title that is permanently in print, never be made into a feature film with A-list stars. OK. Instead you will chart your unique path. Write for enjoyment. Write because it matters to you to express yourself. Push yourself out of your comfort zone and approach the page in a new way. Erasures? Origami poetry? A roman a clef? A gothic ghost story? A mesostich acrostic? Most of all, tailor your writing life so that it energizes you and fills you with joy. A happy life is its own validation.
After getting three rejections in a row first thing this morning I put on my sneakers and got the heck out of the house. Fresh air, the smell of rain, white-tailed deer, bunnies, squirrels and the occasional snapping turtle settled my mind and kept me walking until I hit the three mile mark. Brandi Carlisle played in my ear pods and I listened. She reminded me, "It's only life after all." And truly, it is. Today is a new day. Let's goooo.
Are you me?????? Wow thank you for writing this! This is my story too- we're around the same age and stage of life. What allowed you to finally let go and find your voice?
I did enjoy reading this article about volleyball and writing. Don’t mean to be the literary Bad News Bears—no offense to The New Yorker and any writer who wishes to be published there—but there are many little magazines that are equally prestigious and easier to get into. Publishing is like a sport: you just need grit, ignore all the haters, and keep going.
Also, I would not put too much validation in the Simon Cowells of the editing world. One thing about editors who act like Simon Cowell is that they can usually spot natural talent when no one else can. On Britain’s Got Talent, Susan Boyle stood before Simon Cowell as the world booed her before she even sang. The audience shouted “No!”—judging her for being old, fat, ugly. UK tabloids reported how neighbors mocked and underestimated her. But when showtime came, her natural voice blew away the competition.
Just like in the sports world, there is a power dynamic of corrupt, unethical competition in publishing. That is part of what some gatekeepers do—thank God not all. Participating in sports or publishing with the aim to win through unethical means—like spying on opponents, tampering with their water bench, or blackmailing them—is akin to being treated to a gourmet feast by an evil Brooklyn Michelin chef, only to find the award-winning dish is laced with poison. Sweet at the first bite, but it turns into toxic, wicked business behavior that chokes the creative life of a writer.
I have heard through the grapevine from several writer and editor friends that there are instances of unethical behavior in the industry, where certain editors or writers attempt to cock-block others from publishing opportunities, and they all act like a clique. Any writer and/or editor who engages in these dirty tactics—no matter how much money or prestige they have—are not honest about their real motivations and will never admit it or apologize. Dirty players like that do not care who they hurt, so focusing on healthy competition, building a supportive network, and developing internal resilience helps build one’s writing career.
Writers and editors who unfairly compete by censoring marginalized voices are unethical. These actions are driven by transactional motives—not a genuine desire to preserve or honor literature, or to work toward a more just, equal world. They don’t play fair—but we must still compete—and publish our work despite such adversity.
If I have learned anything from playing against abusive writers/editors, it is that they have no shame. They will keep moving the goalpost and changing the rules of the game, claiming you are never good enough. It is best to not work with them and deal only with people who will reward your talent. Haters can just boo and whistle from the sideline. Sometimes it’s best to just laugh and ignore the drama.
The ambition to publish in top literary magazines or play professional sports doesn’t always come from fear, pain, mental illness, or ego. It’s usually fueled by creative people with ambition and passion to chase their dreams despite haters trying to obstruct their way. These are the types of stories that legends are made of.
There is nothing wrong with writers pursuing “greatness,” like professional athletes do. This mindset builds inner resilience to keep going when the world tries to steal your playbook and put down your gameplay. Having ambition is not a terrible thing, and it is okay for writers to celebrate their success without being over-the-top or rude.
Healthy, ethical competition can result in productivity, camaraderie, enduring professional relationships, and a nurturing support system.
Not everyone benefits from abandoning an ethical competitive mindset. It’s the toxic, sleazy competition—where people backstab each other and love being unfair bullies—that is never acceptable. Some like to punch down—it happens. We must stand firm against bullies.
Regardless of whether we are writers/editors, singers, or athletes, personal triumphs can lead to real-world rewards like scholarships, grants, recognition, or financial support. Suggesting that writers “just enjoy the process” may be a luxury marginalized, poor writers cannot afford.
The publishing industry is unfair. People may act unethically by creating conflicts, favoring certain tribes over real talent, or intentionally bad-mouthing others behind their backs. We cannot be naive and pretend these injustices don’t happen—they do. This mindset does not promote universal empowerment. For some, it borders on toxic perseverance, encouraging people to pour effort into gatekeeper systems that will never fully embrace them—setting writers up to be “rejected” out of dumb beefs, completely ignoring skill and craft.
Picture this: an editor, already prejudiced against you, skips over your work without giving it a fair chance, all because someone whispered in their ear too soon. Frustrating, isn’t it? Then, why bother submitting to them—especially when there are many other little literary magazines and publishers that have accepted you?
Everyone must define success for themselves, or the wolves of publishing will eat you alive. There is nothing wrong with a 20-year-old kid gunning for a spot on The New Yorker’s starting lineup. This doesn’t mean they are evil, stupid, or crazy—it means they are ambitious. And that ambition is not less valid than someone writing simply for self-expression or wanting to be published in The Paris Review in their 60s or 80s. Age should never be an issue when seeking literary greatness.
Wow wow wow! The timing of this is UNCANNY! As a nerdy middle aged athlete reclaiming my voice and my body, it’s been fun but I haven’t been able to fully get out of my own way! I appreciate the refreshing perspective, it brings me hope and drive to keep moving at my own pace.
Yes and yes. Sometimes it pays to be grateful for the rejections. It keeps one from having to live up to the shit one sometimes produces in spite of oneself.
Aqui vai aos vencedores batatas, distraídos venceremos de um poeta brasileiro, música no vôlei e na poética, assim falou Rubião um personagem de Machado de Assis que foi trocado por outro, romance Quincas Borba.
It really helps to not see rejection as failure. It isn’t. It is more like not finding a parking spot in a crowded city on a Saturday afternoon.
Rejection is the result of poor targeting. Read the lit-mags. Analyze where your work will really be appreciated. No one has ever written a story / essay / poem that "fits" every lit-mag ever conceived. Read widely to find YOUR niche - - and you will get more acceptances.
I am going to disagree with this. I read and studied the lit mags where I wanted to be published, and they simply rejected me. The places I got published happened because of... numbers, persistence, being in the right place at the right time.
What I learned from them is, while you can still learn from what they publish and the voices they like, stick to your beliefs, what is true to you. I keep about 100 submissions active. I just got rejected by Granta today. No worries. Last week I even got a personalized rejection from the New Yorker. So target everything within the scope you want to achieve. Numbers, numbers, numbers.
Luis, that's wonderful - - a personalized rejection from The New Yorker. Well, of course, it's persistence, luck, timing, and a numbers game, too. * * * * Reminder: The New Yorker publishes 47 issues a year; since they print two poems per issue, that is 94 poems (which includes the poetry of DEAD poets) - - and many, many, many rejections.
Yes. That’s exactly my experience.
Claire, a young British male was grousing on BlueSky that he had NEVER had any acceptances & asked what was he doing wrong. I gave this stranger 3 tips; 1 tip was READ THE LIT-MAGS & target better. He replied on BlueSky that he "had never thought of that"! [mic drop]
Validation? Success? Stop kidding yourself. Your book will never win a life-changing award, never be shelved in a major library, never be a title that is permanently in print, never be made into a feature film with A-list stars. OK. Instead you will chart your unique path. Write for enjoyment. Write because it matters to you to express yourself. Push yourself out of your comfort zone and approach the page in a new way. Erasures? Origami poetry? A roman a clef? A gothic ghost story? A mesostich acrostic? Most of all, tailor your writing life so that it energizes you and fills you with joy. A happy life is its own validation.
After getting three rejections in a row first thing this morning I put on my sneakers and got the heck out of the house. Fresh air, the smell of rain, white-tailed deer, bunnies, squirrels and the occasional snapping turtle settled my mind and kept me walking until I hit the three mile mark. Brandi Carlisle played in my ear pods and I listened. She reminded me, "It's only life after all." And truly, it is. Today is a new day. Let's goooo.
"It's only life." And some of it is better targeting, good timing, and blind luck, Jen. Wishing you good fortune and more lit-mag acceptances.
Thank you, for the truths and inspiration and persistence you offer to all of us! (Even those of us who are 71!)
Are you me?????? Wow thank you for writing this! This is my story too- we're around the same age and stage of life. What allowed you to finally let go and find your voice?
This really resonates. Thank you so much.
I really needed to read this today. Thank you =)
I did enjoy reading this article about volleyball and writing. Don’t mean to be the literary Bad News Bears—no offense to The New Yorker and any writer who wishes to be published there—but there are many little magazines that are equally prestigious and easier to get into. Publishing is like a sport: you just need grit, ignore all the haters, and keep going.
Also, I would not put too much validation in the Simon Cowells of the editing world. One thing about editors who act like Simon Cowell is that they can usually spot natural talent when no one else can. On Britain’s Got Talent, Susan Boyle stood before Simon Cowell as the world booed her before she even sang. The audience shouted “No!”—judging her for being old, fat, ugly. UK tabloids reported how neighbors mocked and underestimated her. But when showtime came, her natural voice blew away the competition.
Just like in the sports world, there is a power dynamic of corrupt, unethical competition in publishing. That is part of what some gatekeepers do—thank God not all. Participating in sports or publishing with the aim to win through unethical means—like spying on opponents, tampering with their water bench, or blackmailing them—is akin to being treated to a gourmet feast by an evil Brooklyn Michelin chef, only to find the award-winning dish is laced with poison. Sweet at the first bite, but it turns into toxic, wicked business behavior that chokes the creative life of a writer.
I have heard through the grapevine from several writer and editor friends that there are instances of unethical behavior in the industry, where certain editors or writers attempt to cock-block others from publishing opportunities, and they all act like a clique. Any writer and/or editor who engages in these dirty tactics—no matter how much money or prestige they have—are not honest about their real motivations and will never admit it or apologize. Dirty players like that do not care who they hurt, so focusing on healthy competition, building a supportive network, and developing internal resilience helps build one’s writing career.
Writers and editors who unfairly compete by censoring marginalized voices are unethical. These actions are driven by transactional motives—not a genuine desire to preserve or honor literature, or to work toward a more just, equal world. They don’t play fair—but we must still compete—and publish our work despite such adversity.
If I have learned anything from playing against abusive writers/editors, it is that they have no shame. They will keep moving the goalpost and changing the rules of the game, claiming you are never good enough. It is best to not work with them and deal only with people who will reward your talent. Haters can just boo and whistle from the sideline. Sometimes it’s best to just laugh and ignore the drama.
The ambition to publish in top literary magazines or play professional sports doesn’t always come from fear, pain, mental illness, or ego. It’s usually fueled by creative people with ambition and passion to chase their dreams despite haters trying to obstruct their way. These are the types of stories that legends are made of.
There is nothing wrong with writers pursuing “greatness,” like professional athletes do. This mindset builds inner resilience to keep going when the world tries to steal your playbook and put down your gameplay. Having ambition is not a terrible thing, and it is okay for writers to celebrate their success without being over-the-top or rude.
Healthy, ethical competition can result in productivity, camaraderie, enduring professional relationships, and a nurturing support system.
Not everyone benefits from abandoning an ethical competitive mindset. It’s the toxic, sleazy competition—where people backstab each other and love being unfair bullies—that is never acceptable. Some like to punch down—it happens. We must stand firm against bullies.
Regardless of whether we are writers/editors, singers, or athletes, personal triumphs can lead to real-world rewards like scholarships, grants, recognition, or financial support. Suggesting that writers “just enjoy the process” may be a luxury marginalized, poor writers cannot afford.
The publishing industry is unfair. People may act unethically by creating conflicts, favoring certain tribes over real talent, or intentionally bad-mouthing others behind their backs. We cannot be naive and pretend these injustices don’t happen—they do. This mindset does not promote universal empowerment. For some, it borders on toxic perseverance, encouraging people to pour effort into gatekeeper systems that will never fully embrace them—setting writers up to be “rejected” out of dumb beefs, completely ignoring skill and craft.
Picture this: an editor, already prejudiced against you, skips over your work without giving it a fair chance, all because someone whispered in their ear too soon. Frustrating, isn’t it? Then, why bother submitting to them—especially when there are many other little literary magazines and publishers that have accepted you?
Everyone must define success for themselves, or the wolves of publishing will eat you alive. There is nothing wrong with a 20-year-old kid gunning for a spot on The New Yorker’s starting lineup. This doesn’t mean they are evil, stupid, or crazy—it means they are ambitious. And that ambition is not less valid than someone writing simply for self-expression or wanting to be published in The Paris Review in their 60s or 80s. Age should never be an issue when seeking literary greatness.
Wow wow wow! The timing of this is UNCANNY! As a nerdy middle aged athlete reclaiming my voice and my body, it’s been fun but I haven’t been able to fully get out of my own way! I appreciate the refreshing perspective, it brings me hope and drive to keep moving at my own pace.
This is wonderful.
I loved this so much!!
Yes and yes. Sometimes it pays to be grateful for the rejections. It keeps one from having to live up to the shit one sometimes produces in spite of oneself.
Aqui vai aos vencedores batatas, distraídos venceremos de um poeta brasileiro, música no vôlei e na poética, assim falou Rubião um personagem de Machado de Assis que foi trocado por outro, romance Quincas Borba.