The Key To Loving Rejection
I paid extra for the editorial letter. Since I’d been submitting pieces and paying reading fees only to get “nice try, not this time” rejection notices from editors, I figured the editorial letter might help me feel like I got something out of the process. I hit Submit and then waited. And waited. And in that liminal time, I worked on a few other projects and forgot all about the letter. Then one late night I got the email. Rejected. I read their notes and proceeded to feel defensive, confused, angry, and finally, grateful.
Rejection, much like the sun, shines on all writers. It’s so common and such an indisputable fact, you can find a multitude of idioms, blog posts, articles, essays, and books written on the subject of rejection. Isaac Asimov famously said the following about its sting:
“Rejections slips, or form letters, however tactfully phrased, are lacerations of the soul, if not quite inventions of the devil — but there is no way around them.”
Asimov’s view of rejection is a violence directed at the very “soul” of the writer. I won’t lie, when I got that editorial letter, my chest hurt. The spear had been thrown, dart, bull’s eye. Insert metaphor here. Then I remembered that rejection is a violence only if you understand it as criticism, as a pointed decree from the editorial elite striking you down.
But critique and criticism are different. We’ve conflated them, when in reality, they’re cousins, not conjoined twins. When I used to teach grad students critical theory, I’d have them read lengthy and convoluted essays on the difference between critique and criticism, but I won’t bore you with that here.
The main difference between the two concepts is that one opens up and allows for generative growth and the other shuts down, stunts.
A lot of times when we receive a rejection letter there isn’t a note attached or editorial feedback. Plenty of writers and editors have written on the form rejection letter, so I won’t take up time here unpacking the myriad of benign reasons you might receive one. It just means the piece wasn’t right for that editor at that time.
That said, sometimes you do get feedback. Now, some people will tell you not to get angry when you get a rejection letter. I say do it. Get angry. In fact, get hurt, and defensive too. Grab your favorite throw pillow, shove your face in it, and scream… or cry, dealer’s choice. Once you’ve done that take a minute, wash your face if you need to. It’s okay. It’s natural. No shame in that game.
Then look again.
Ask yourself — is there any part of this that’s true?
The editor has taken time to write you a note saying what didn’t work for them. Ask yourself, is there any part of it that could be true? Is there any possibility that your narrative does lose focus? Or in my case, is it possible that your character’s motivation isn’t clear enough? Maybe your story might be better suited to a different point of view. Could it be that, gosh, would you look at that, you did change your main character’s name partway through your story without explanation! That last one might be an extreme example, but it happens.
Critique opens up avenues for new exploration. It’s a nudge. Nothing more. Basically the editor is motioning to a corner saying, “Hey, did you look over there? Check that spot out.” The onus is on us writers to look, to explore, to be curious. What is happening in that corner?
Critique is the gas pedal that allows you to move forward. It leads to new avenues of exploration and conversation. It offers perspective, an opportunity to move beyond yourself as a writer, putting you in the position of the reader. If you can step outside yourself to see what the editor saw, you’ll be able to move forward in generative ways.
Criticism on the other hand shuts down. It’s the emergency break that stops you and your project cold. How can you tell the difference? Again, ask yourself — is there any part of this feedback that could be true? Take a look in the corner and see for yourself. Maybe you’ll be surprised! That said, if someone read your work and said, “good luck finding a home for this.” Maybe see that comment for what it is, criticism, and just walk away. I’ve gotten those too, it’s okay. If that editor didn’t offer you a suggestion to check out what’s in the corner, and instead told you that you and your writing are trash, then that’s criticism and it’s not worth your time. If there’s no nudge, no wink, no head tilt, if there’s no helpful offer to take another look at what could be better where you as the writer get to discover what you left lurking in that dark corner, then don’t bother with it. Criticism shuts down creativity. It severs you from your writing.
One last thing I’ll say about rejection is that if you got a note, even a form letter, that means that you put yourself out there and that’s a huge accomplishment! It means that you were brave. You wrote something and you let someone else read it and that takes guts, my friend.
Rejection paired with curiosity can make you a better writer by helping you see into those poorly-lit corners of your writing. Read with an inquiring mind and a critical nose to sniff out criticism from critique. If you can do that, a rejection letter can put you one step closer to getting that piece just right
