“Be True to Yourself – and Fly Closer to the Sun”: What I’ve Learned from 50 Years of Rejection | Health and wellness

gRejection, especially if it happens repeatedly, is not a great experience. Someone coldly rejects you, takes a hard pass, and tells you, “Nope.” I’m a writer, so I’m no stranger to rejection. I started brainstorming story ideas and submitting manuscripts 50 years ago, when I graduated from college. At that time, I had two novels rejected, as well as proposals for non-fiction books, short stories, and several articles. Over the past twenty years, since I’ve turned my hand largely to personal essays and opinion pieces, I’ve been rejected more and more. In a typical week, I get rejection every few days — more than 100 times a year. Over the course of my career, the rejections have piled up by the thousands. Now, I have to get a PhD in rejection.

Is this feature screaming woe is me? Far from it. Because I finally, at 73 years old, accepted rejection.

How did you manage this? How did I prepare myself to face a setback in my step – or even to overlook it?

Some context: At this point in my life, almost everyone and my distant relative has taken a liking to me. I never record my win-loss ratio – it would be too frustrating to do so.

Case in point: Recently, an editor at a newspaper I work for turned down 20 submissions in a row before saying, “OK, I’ll take it” on one. In 2016, at least 50 publishers vetoed my proposal to write a memoir before someone gave me the green light. A few years later, 25 literary agents rejected a nonfiction book pitch. One editor to whom I frequently sent work was so frustrated with my submissions that she asked me a question no editor had ever asked me before: Could I possibly send her my guest articles less often? Say once a month?

In my twenties, when I started my career, all the rejections were painful. I took them personally. Not only was my job rejected, but I also felt like myself as a person.

Once a manuscript is rejected, I begin to go through what I call the “Seven Stages of Rejection”:

First, the shock. How could this happen? How could these people be blind to my talent?

Second: Denial. Surely you rejected the wrong person? This must be an administrative error.

Third: dismissal. What does anyone know? Who appointed you to judge my work? You are stupid and your posts stink. I refuse to reject you.

Fourth: Anger at those who rejected me, then anger at myself. Why am I doing this to myself? Why do I let myself be vulnerable to these slings and arrows from judgmental strangers a job? Am I a masochist or a martyr?

Fifth, bargaining (preferably liberal and full of illusion). What will it take? To convince you to confess Me as a once-in-a-generation talent?

Sixth: Depression. I’m not good. What’s more, I’ll never be good.

So I went through my 30s, 40s, and 50s.

Naturally, you are in excellent company. There are plenty of stories about writers whose work was initially rejected. Herman Melville’s Moby Dick. Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. “Dublins” by James Joyce. Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov. Joseph Heller Catch 22. Almost every famous writer was initially rejected. If they can overcome rejection, maybe I can too. Michael Jordan was cut from his high school basketball team. Most US presidents over the past 60 years have previously lost an election of some sort: Lyndon Johnson, Richard Nixon, Jimmy Carter, Bill Clinton, Ronald Reagan, George H.W. Bush, Barack Obama, and Donald Trump. Sylvester Stallone estimates that his script for Rocky and his attempt to be the star of the film were rejected 1,500 times. “I treat rejection like someone blowing a trumpet in my ear to wake me up and move forward, instead of backing down,” he said.

Then, as I reached my 60s and 70s, I entered the seventh stage of rejection. acceptance. Now, I better understand the many reasons why someone might say no. For starters, the editor may have recently published a similar article, already has one in the works, or is thinking of something along those lines for another contributor to follow up on.

Or, less promisingly, my offer is of limited interest. Or the editor thinks I lack the qualifications or standing to fit the bill. Or the items I sell are no longer in the market. Or he was too distracted and read my submission too quickly to appreciate its abundant merits.

Go ahead, call it an epiphany. Anything can be rejected for any reason, and there’s nothing you can do about it. Some logical reasons for rejection are forever beyond your control.

Others are inside it. Let’s face it, my offers and offers from time to time can be ill-considered. Maybe it lacks importance and resonance, or the point I’m struggling to make isn’t dramatized enough. Or I’m just blatantly unoriginal. Or maybe there was something about the punctuation, especially semicolons, that was offensive.

The point is that, despite all the years of effort and rejection, I have managed to publish widely. I’ve written two books — one when I was 51, and a memoir when I was 65 — and more than 1,000 essays and essays. These articles have appeared in publications large and small, and in local, national and international newspapers and magazines. I published my first op-ed in The New York Times when I was 26 – and I have now contributed to that publication, among others, for five decades.

However, no bestsellers, no book signings at Barnes & Noble, no Oprah appearances, no TED Talks, no book awards, no Pulitzer Prizes, no Nobel Prize, and no Presidential Medal of Freedom wrapped around my neck. But I can accept rejection more easily at the age of seventy-three, because my modest successes have helped mitigate the blows caused by the numerous rejections. I can be philosophical about all of that now.

Rejection can be helpful, but only if you listen to what it is trying to teach you. Otherwise, you will likely continue to accept rejection incorrectly. So what lessons have you learned?

Here’s my advice. First, review your rejected offer. I mean, look at it as if you were a monk transcribing ancient Greek in a medieval copy room. You might see it again and learn how to improve it. If you decide your idea is still a work in progress, that’s great. Immediately send it to someone else, presumably more discerning, for a second opinion. Recycling keeps your hopes alive. However, if you find, as I often do, that your idea is lacking, modify it or even fix it completely. Sometimes I realize, much to my dismay, that my opening belongs at the end, or vice versa, or some variation.

When you figure that out, saying no can do you a favor. It forces you to confront objective reality. You discover, perhaps contrary to your long-held expectations, that the entire universe exists outside your head and that the opinions of others may matter as much to you as your own. The market has spoken, just as voters do in elections, and its decision deserves some respect.

Rejection can also strengthen your spirit. It knocks you down and challenges you to get back on your feet. You learn humility because nothing instills humility better than being completely humiliated. This can strengthen your resolve as well, because the more rejection you get, the stronger your pursuit of a breakthrough becomes. Rejection gives you an education in the art of resilience, the ability to bounce back from failure, an essential trait for maintaining an entrepreneurial mindset.

In no way do I recommend rejection as a desired outcome or stepping stone to success. But in the best-case scenario, rejection might inspire us to stay true to ourselves and fly closer to the sun. Rejection can lead you to believe that not only can you do better, but that you must do better, that you have to do better, and you will do better. Nobel Prize-winning novelist Saul Bellow said: “Rejection teaches a writer to rely on his own judgment and to say in his heart: To hell.”

So now I accept rejection. It’s certainly easier for me to admit my weakness and enjoy my new change of heart than it is for writers decades younger than me.

That’s what I told my daughter, Carolyn, when she began her career as a freelance writer in her late twenties — but the advice, I think, will apply to how we all choose to live our daily lives. “Rejection is hard,” she wrote. “What I do – and what you can do – is very simple. First, write as much as you can. That’s always priority number one. Second, write about what interests you and give it the time it needs to brew. Third, stay productive – the more you create, the better your prospects. Always strive to develop something, whether you’re just dreaming about it, taking notes on it or actually writing it. Fourth, keep at it.” Fifth, as long as you believe in yourself, your debt will continue to be paid.”

If I’ve learned anything at all from getting older – and I must have learned something by now – it’s that life can be either yes or no. So, the faster you learn to adapt to “no,” the faster you can get to “yes.”