There are people who take rejection well. They feed on it like second breakfasting using this meal to power through their days. I’m not one of those people. Every time my writing is rejected I wallow in the corner like a dramatic anime character asking my husband to give me affirmation. Perhaps “every time” is too dramatic. I wallow in self-pity most of the time. I enter my “woe is me” era and become varying levels of insufferable. It takes energy for me to come back to myself, to want to writer again, to believe that maybe the art I make for public consumption will offer some goodness to the world.
I’m receiving a lot of rejections for my poetry chapbook. My inbox has been filled with “thank you for your submission, we’ve decided to go choose a different poet” messages. It is a self-inflicted wounding. I decided to only submit it to chapbook competitions because I believe my writing is good enough to win awards. I want to be an award winning author and this is how I am choosing to stand on business. I get at least one rejection a week.
I used to be terrified of having my work rejected. I believed that anyone rejecting my work is the same as rejecting me. I truly believed that one rejection meant I am fated to failure. What helped me face rejection is talking to other authors who have careers I admire. They consistently tell me that rejection is a part of this lifestyle. They keep their rejections as a prize, put them in elegant boxes, and make garlands out of them.1 They tell me to celebrate every rejection because it means that you’re trying.
I listened to a poet explain that her full length collection manuscript was rejected 115 times. ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTEEN. She kept trying and going. At every stage her collection grew alongside her life. Every rejection was an opportunity for her collection to never stop evolving.
I’m in a writing group that celebrates our rejections. We tell each other that we’re on the road to 100 rejections. When I got rejected from Cave Canem earlier this year we shared our rejection emails and cheered each other on because we’re going to apply again this year. What if they reject me again this year? Does it mean that I’m a bad poet who should quit? No! It means I get to take more classes, expand my art form, and celebrate my perseverance with folks who see me. There may be no promised prizes in the delusion of tenacity, but it keeps its own reward for how it motivates us to love our artistry.
Every rejection stings, but I won’t let a sting stop me. I think of Octavia Butler’s reflection on receiving rejections…
When I was older, I decided that getting a rejection slip was like being told your child was ugly. You got mad and didn't believe a word of it. Besides, look at all the really ugly literary children out there in the world being published and doing fine!2
Perhaps I’m being too dramatic as I say this: I believe the worst thing we can do as creatives is to walk away and never return. The world deserves what we create. I also believe that rejection is an opportunity to learn more and become better. There will be moments when my husband finds me sitting in the corner with my wompwomp vibes. He knows that I won’t quit. I know it too. I’m just glad he gives me space to be dramatic. I’m on a road to 100 rejections and many more because I love writing.
I can’t stop people from defining their lives according to rejection. If this is you, then I recommend you know that a life filled with rejections is evidence of trying, and trying is evidence of a radical and enduring love for yourself and this craft.
Tell me something good.
Share a time that you returned to writing after receiving a rejection.
Share an affirmation to encourage other writers who struggle with rejection.
Upcoming Offerings.
Here are some poetry classes and workshops I’m teaching. Both are virtual and open to the public. Hope you can join us!
Literally, they do this. I’ve seen their pictures.
Bulter, Octavia. 1995. Blood Child and Other Stories