It’s always reassuring to hear that successful, talented writers like you also need to strategize to deal with rejections. It just doesn’t come naturally. In fact, I find it hilarious that only in the literary world is a “personal rejection” considered a good thing. “Oh, yay, it wasn’t a form letter! It’s personal! My fourth one this week! Crack open the champagne!”😂
These are all good suggestions. I've published about 75 stories and poems over the years. A few earned acceptances quickly but most had their fair share of declines. A conservative average might be 15 rejections per acceptance, meaning my work has been rejected over 1,100 times. (That's a lot, but probably still less than the rejections I received during my brief post-divorce experiments with speed dating!) While all that rejection is pure protein for the little "you suck" voice that I suspect every writer has camped out in the dark corners of the brain, I've learned not to let it bother me, at least not for long. I've read submissions for several lit journals, and during that time there have been stories that I've loved that were ultimately rejected by the journal. When the rejection includes a "not quite right for us at this time" it's likely the truth. Rejection might mean that the piece needs more work, or perhaps just isn't that good, which is also reality for nearly every writer, but it could also mean that the piece just hasn't found the right home yet. Learning to tell the difference comes with experience and being lucky enough to find a few readers who can provide honest, informed feedback. If there were no rejections, the acceptances wouldn't feel special, so one can always consider it the hard path that will ultimately make publication feel well-earned.
I subscribe to the theory that if you shoot for 100 rejections a year, you’re likely to get a few acceptances along the way. It has worked well for me. I have a few self-imposed rules, one of which is to never have the same poem out to more than 12 places at once. If lightning strikes, this limits the number of journals I need to withdraw from. In practice, I usually stop at 11, so if an unexpected opportunity pops up, that poem is free to send out. Most of my best poems stay in the 9-11 range until I run out of places to send them. Thus, I generally welcome rejections because they open up a “slot” to submit those poems again.
"some people will like my work and others won’t." Yes, it's as simple as that--or that the work needs more editing. I love rejections with comments. They are so helpful. Reading articles like this help to keep me going. Thanks!
"On the rare occasions I get feedback with a rejection, I treat it like gold dust."
I once got feedback on a poem from a place I wasn't expecting and they said they could see promise in the piece but wasn't sure what work the line breaks were doing (or something like that), and I was really grateful for the feedback, but I've been rolling it around in my head for like, six months, periodically going back and staring at the poem trying to figure out what it means. (For me each break was done with intention, so it wasn't translating for that person, so trying to understand how they are experiencing it).
I feel like (and this could just be a story I'm telling myself), that if I mull it over long enough, the moment I get what they're telling me, my writing is going to take a leap, because I will have gained a new understanding of how others are reading poetry.
True ‘dat! Each one of your BOLD sub-titles will be a post-it affixed to the wall calendar I face when seated at my desk engaged in the privilege and blessing of writing! THANK YOU!
"On the rare occasions I get feedback with a rejection, I treat it like gold dust."
I once got feedback on a poem from a place I wasn't expecting and they said they could see promise in the piece but wasn't sure what work the line breaks were doing (or something like that), and I was really grateful for the feedback, but I've been rolling it around in my head for like, six months, periodically going back and staring at the poem trying to figure out what it means. (For me each break was done with intention, so it wasn't translating for that person, so trying to understand how they are experiencing it).
I feel like (and this could just be a story I'm telling myself), that if I mull it over long enough, the moment I get what they're telling me, my writing is going to take a leap, because I will have gained a new understanding of how others are reading poetry.
It’s always reassuring to hear that successful, talented writers like you also need to strategize to deal with rejections. It just doesn’t come naturally. In fact, I find it hilarious that only in the literary world is a “personal rejection” considered a good thing. “Oh, yay, it wasn’t a form letter! It’s personal! My fourth one this week! Crack open the champagne!”😂
So true!
These are all good suggestions. I've published about 75 stories and poems over the years. A few earned acceptances quickly but most had their fair share of declines. A conservative average might be 15 rejections per acceptance, meaning my work has been rejected over 1,100 times. (That's a lot, but probably still less than the rejections I received during my brief post-divorce experiments with speed dating!) While all that rejection is pure protein for the little "you suck" voice that I suspect every writer has camped out in the dark corners of the brain, I've learned not to let it bother me, at least not for long. I've read submissions for several lit journals, and during that time there have been stories that I've loved that were ultimately rejected by the journal. When the rejection includes a "not quite right for us at this time" it's likely the truth. Rejection might mean that the piece needs more work, or perhaps just isn't that good, which is also reality for nearly every writer, but it could also mean that the piece just hasn't found the right home yet. Learning to tell the difference comes with experience and being lucky enough to find a few readers who can provide honest, informed feedback. If there were no rejections, the acceptances wouldn't feel special, so one can always consider it the hard path that will ultimately make publication feel well-earned.
I subscribe to the theory that if you shoot for 100 rejections a year, you’re likely to get a few acceptances along the way. It has worked well for me. I have a few self-imposed rules, one of which is to never have the same poem out to more than 12 places at once. If lightning strikes, this limits the number of journals I need to withdraw from. In practice, I usually stop at 11, so if an unexpected opportunity pops up, that poem is free to send out. Most of my best poems stay in the 9-11 range until I run out of places to send them. Thus, I generally welcome rejections because they open up a “slot” to submit those poems again.
Thank you. One of the best and most constructive pieces on rejection that I have read in a long while.
"some people will like my work and others won’t." Yes, it's as simple as that--or that the work needs more editing. I love rejections with comments. They are so helpful. Reading articles like this help to keep me going. Thanks!
"On the rare occasions I get feedback with a rejection, I treat it like gold dust."
I once got feedback on a poem from a place I wasn't expecting and they said they could see promise in the piece but wasn't sure what work the line breaks were doing (or something like that), and I was really grateful for the feedback, but I've been rolling it around in my head for like, six months, periodically going back and staring at the poem trying to figure out what it means. (For me each break was done with intention, so it wasn't translating for that person, so trying to understand how they are experiencing it).
I feel like (and this could just be a story I'm telling myself), that if I mull it over long enough, the moment I get what they're telling me, my writing is going to take a leap, because I will have gained a new understanding of how others are reading poetry.
Okay. I'll get over the depression and get back on the horse!
True ‘dat! Each one of your BOLD sub-titles will be a post-it affixed to the wall calendar I face when seated at my desk engaged in the privilege and blessing of writing! THANK YOU!
Lots of insight here for anyone dealing with rejection. Write on!
"On the rare occasions I get feedback with a rejection, I treat it like gold dust."
I once got feedback on a poem from a place I wasn't expecting and they said they could see promise in the piece but wasn't sure what work the line breaks were doing (or something like that), and I was really grateful for the feedback, but I've been rolling it around in my head for like, six months, periodically going back and staring at the poem trying to figure out what it means. (For me each break was done with intention, so it wasn't translating for that person, so trying to understand how they are experiencing it).
I feel like (and this could just be a story I'm telling myself), that if I mull it over long enough, the moment I get what they're telling me, my writing is going to take a leap, because I will have gained a new understanding of how others are reading poetry.