When my husband was in his final semester of graduate school, his roommate, Steve, was unsuccessfully searching for a job. At a time when rejections were more formal and arrived on embossed letterhead, Steve decided to decorate his apartment with a collage of dismissals, near misses, and best wishes. It was kind of funny and kind of sad, until Steve ultimately landed the right job to launch his career. Only then could he reframe his cursed art as a fine collection of unanswered prayers.
As a writer, I spent too many years pinning my collage of rejections to my heart and soul, framing them with ugly emotions: insecurity, doubt, indignation, frustration, embarrassment, envy, and despair. It took some time and more decades than I care to admit, but I eventually found ways to look at rejection differently and make peace with it.
Like Steve, my perspective on failure changed with a little success. Hindsight, the annoying little cousin of immediate gratification, is never on time but always shows up with a cleverly wrapped gift. A story that gets rejected by dozens of literary magazines might land in one you thought was out of reach, and those initial rejections transfigure into treasures. It’s a spectacular metamorphosis that takes time, patience, and the right circumstances. While you wait, if you’re at all like me, you sit in your writing cocoon getting pummeled by pings. “You’ve got mail,” and it’s full of rejections.
In the moment, you really can’t ignore the sting of another “Not quite right for our upcoming issue” or the deflated hope that comes with “We wish you luck placing it elsewhere.” It hurts, and it’s healthy to sit for a minute in the reality of that emotion. What’s not healthy is dwelling there, surrounded by self-portraits of the artist as a failure. There are ways to step out of your hall of shame and take a more productive look at rejection.
As I’ve grown as a writer and editor, I’ve learned to reframe rejection as a frenemy, someone who wants what’s best for you even though you don’t like her very much. (I named mine Joan, and I like to imagine rejection as Joan Rivers criticizing my work like celebrity fashions at the Oscars.) Helping me accept the reality of rejection while showing me how to turn it into a productive tool, my frenemy has strong-armed/encouraged me to:
Understand Statistics
“What? Like it’s hard?” –Elle Woods, Legally Blonde.
Recently, I received a newsletter from Chestnut Review, celebrating six years of publication. In it, the editor-in-chief, James Rawlings, shared their submissions statistics: “In 2019-2020, we received 4,843 submissions, or about 13.27 a day when averaged. In 2024-2025, we received 11,850, or 31.94 per day.” “In six years,” he added, “we read and evaluated over 57,000 submissions in order to publish 431 pieces of poetry, fiction, and art, as well as 14 chapbooks.” Yes, Elle, it’s hard, and when editors say, “they regretfully have to pass up on quality work due to the number of submissions,” they mean it. Instead of throwing a pity party when one of my stories gets rejected, I now do two things: I visit that magazine’s social media to send them love with likes and shares. Then, I submit my story to two more publications. Taking immediate action helps me switch gears and move forward.
Get To Know Editorial Staff
In the past, when I got a form rejection, I imagined myself on a conveyor belt as an editor with a maniacal grin stamped LOSER on my forehead. (I know, it got ugly.) As I’ve spent more time communicating with editorial staff, I’ve realized they are encouraging, champions of writers and often writers themselves who are full of love, empathy, and compassion. They genuinely want to see your work succeed, even if it isn’t the right fit for their publication. Some write personal notes when submissions are close calls or ask for rewrites if they need more work. They are incredibly generous with their time and encouragement and often get paid little or nothing at all for the hours they commit to the literary community. Humanize the people who make the hard decisions about your work by introducing yourself at writing conferences, sending thank you notes for personal feedback, following them on social media, and supporting their creative efforts. If you have time, become one of them by volunteering to be a reader for a publication you love. A peek behind the scenes will give you a much better appreciation of the process that has no choice but to include rejection.
Celebrate Personal Rejections
When I opened a personal rejection from an editor at the North American Review, I must have looked like I’d just won an Oscar. My husband waited expectantly for me to get over my shock and share whatever good news I’d received, while my frenemy, Joan, just shook her imaginary head and laughed.
“I got a positive rejection with a personal note!” I gasped, glowing while my husband went to look for the thermometer. Nonwriters don’t understand the thrill of the words “sorry to pass, but very good writing” or “we hope you’ll consider us again.” Encouraging, personal rejections give me the confidence to keep writing and submitting. They remind me that real people are reading, evaluating, and appreciating my work, which is my primary goal. I want an audience, even if it’s only one kind editor.
Practice Self-Compassion
Whenever writing peers struggle with rejection, words of support and encouragement come easily to me. I see their talent, hard work, and potential. I believe they will find success. It took me forever to be this nice to myself. Negativity lived in my head like a menopausal mean girl with no air conditioner. With each rejection, I berated and demoralized myself in a way I’d never treat another person. Author Brené Brown says, “Talk to yourself like you would to someone you love.” Sounds simple, but “What? Like It’s Hard?” (Clearly, Elle resides in my brain, too.)
Self-compassion requires mindful practice and can be challenging, but I recently found a tangible way to implement it in my writing life. Whenever someone says something encouraging about my work, I write it down and repeat it back to myself. Though it feels comically vainglorious, the positivity wraps around my little neuropathways and strengthens them for the inevitable subsequent rejection.
Submitting creative work is a vulnerable endeavor fueled by hope with an inherent risk of disappointment. The writing life can be intimidating, inconsistent, and uncertain for even the most published authors. Though I don’t think it’s farfetched to say that all writers will receive at least one rejection letter over time, it’s perfectly reasonable to say many will receive enough to fill an entire wall. Regardless of the count (and all the cool kids keep count), your rejections can be reframed in positive, productive ways to soften their blows and help you grow and refine your craft. It’s hard (like totally, Elle), but I’ll try to practice what I preach, and if that doesn’t work, I’m sure Joan will snap, “put on your big girl pants on and just deal with it!”
- Helping Writers “Keep the Magic Flowing,” an Interview with Productivity Coach Kristina Chilian - October 23, 2025
- A World of Connection Close to Home: My Experience at the 23rd Annual James River Writers Conference - October 16, 2025
- Reframing Rejection: Giving Your Tired Hang-ups Vibrant New Life - June 27, 2025
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