Dealing with Rejection as a Writer

Rejection is unavoidable in writing, but it doesn’t have to function as a personal verdict. The core move is to manage rejection so it doesn’t stop submissions—because not submitting produces the same “no acceptance” outcome, while submitting at least keeps the door open. Every writer, including those admired by readers, faces rejection; the difference is how rejection is processed afterward.

A practical starting point is submitting work that’s genuinely finished and polished. When writers send out pieces that are “95% done” and skip the final polish, rejections tend to trigger a nagging “what if” that can feel like self-blame. Submitting the strongest version—something the writer can stand behind—shifts the emotional logic of rejection: if the piece is declined, it’s more likely a mismatch with what an editor or contest needs, not proof that the writer failed to do the job.

Rejection also becomes easier to absorb when writers plan for what comes next. Building a backup submission path—deciding where the piece will go if it’s declined—turns rejection from an endpoint into a handoff. That mindset pairs with broadening targets: chasing a single “dream” magazine, agent, or contest can trap writers into over-investing in one outcome. Submissions typically require multiple tries across many outlets before a piece finds the right home.

Another key reframing is rejecting the idea that acceptance and rejection form a simple good-versus-bad binary. Editors and agents receive far more material than they can take on, and even strong work can be declined for reasons that have nothing to do with quality—fit, timing, personal taste, or simply not clicking. Layering extra meaning onto a rejection—such as assuming it’s personal, that it proves the work has no value, or that it predicts future failure—only intensifies the sting. Rejection, at most, means the submission wasn’t accepted.

Luck plays a role too, and writers are encouraged to treat it as part of the system rather than a consolation prize. Similar submissions can be blocked by editorial constraints (for example, too many pieces on the same theme), and even strong work can miss because it didn’t land with the right reader at the right time. Submitting earlier in a submission window can reduce the risk of being crowded out by near-duplicates.

To keep momentum, writers can lower the emotional cost of early attempts by choosing lower-stakes opportunities—especially free ones—so rejection doesn’t come with added financial pain. She also recommends setting a “rejection goal,” like aiming for a certain number of rejections before the end of the year, turning rejection into measurable progress rather than a threat.

Finally, publishing shouldn’t be treated as a ranking of writer quality. Getting published in one place doesn’t automatically mean someone else is better, and comparing achievements can create an endless ladder of “not enough.” Rejection can be treated analytically instead: patterns across multiple declines may suggest mismatched outlets or needed revisions. Over time, repeated exposure helps writers see rejection more objectively—less as a punishment and more as a neutral step on the path to finding the right fit.