If you are going to write for any other reason than to send a letter to your mother, you–as a writer–will need to come to terms with varying degrees and types of rejection. There is the rejection of apathy in which other people really don’t care about what you have to say in writing. There is the rejection of the doltish person in your critique group who just doesn’t get it, or, worse, has been waiting for this chance to angle into someone else’s work. Then, there is the outright rejection of sending out a piece to a literary journal and, guess what? It doesn’t’ suit their needs at the present time.
I learned to love rejection-at least this last sort-even to revel in it, and you can too. Here’s how.
1. Develop a system. For instance, send out 30 multiple submissions every six weeks to the top journals. Keep track of your submissions on a spreadsheet so you’ll know what’s been accepted, rejected, and pending. I’ve found these sheets useful even half dozen years after the submission cycle when researching someone I met or am about to meet who ran one of the journals I submitted to, for instance.
2. Play the numbers. It’s about quality, of course, but even more, once you get serious about submitting for publication, it’s about numbers. It’s a little like playing the horses at the track, I guess, though I only did that once in South Africa under a friend’s guidance. You know you won’t always win, and that you’re doing it for kicks. Quantity raises your chances of getting a “yes.”
3. A “no” means a “yes” is on its way. Good salespeople know this, so learn to know this, too, and feel it in your bones. There’s an equation in sales of nine “no’s” for every “yes.” I’m not sure what the math equation is in submission, but the principle is the same.
4. Rejection letters are fun. Yes, truly, they are! I loved getting all that mail. I loved getting mail from places I admired, like “The Paris Review.” So what if they were rejecting my work? They were writing me, in an envelope, with a stamp on it, and a note inside with their letterhead on it. And, they make good wallpaper for your writing study.
5. Practice textual analysis. All rejection letters are not equal. I learned to notice the varying tones of even printed letters, and that made receiving these letters enormously entertaining. I started critiquing the rejection letters for style, courtesy, and substance.
6. Cherish the hand-written note. On rare occasions in the submission cycle, you’ll receive a hand-written note. Cherish these. I still save mine, from both famous and not-so-famous people. Sometimes these brief, scrawled notes said something encouraging and insightful.
7. Develop the rejection chuckle. Be philosophical. It’s a mad, mad world out there, but rejection shows that you are alive and writing and in the game. Be glad.
8. Celebrate acceptance. When that acceptance letter does come, do the happy dance. Eat more than one square of your chocolate bar. Pet your cat. Pet your dog. And write some more stuff to send out, to prepare the way for…you guessed it…more rejection. But, as you now know, there’s no reason to be abject about rejection. Relish it. Rejection is fun. Who knew?
Visit Janet Grace Riehl’s blog “Riehl Life: Village Wisdom for the 21st Century” at http://www.riehlife.com where you can browse the “Write, Pen!” category for writing thoughts and “Read On” for book reviews and interviews with authors. You can also read sample poems and other background information from “Sightlines: A Poet’s Diary” on Janet’s website where creating connections through the arts, across cultures, generations, and within the family is a daily affair.
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