How to Deal with Rejection [tips on handling it in a healthy way]

So you’ve labored over a story, be it a six hundred page novel or a six hundred word flash fiction.

Hours upon hours (upon hours) of thinking and revising and thinking and editing and more thinking have been poured into this story. It’s been critiqued and fiddled with, and you’ve gone through all the phases of loving it, hating it, not quite hating it as much, almost liking it, hating it again, actually liking it, and you’ve at last come to terms with the story.

It’s never going to be perfect, but my goodness, it almost is. And my goodness it better be almost perfect after all that. You might even say you’re happy with it.

Off it goes to The Publisher (or the agent or the magazine or the website).

After days and weeks of angsty waiting, an email pops into your inbox. From The Publisher (or agent or magazine or website).

Your heart seizes in your chest and your hands go clammy. You take a fortifying breath and open the email.

“Unfortunately, we are unable to acquire your story…”

Your little heart crunches like a tin can, and the wind whooshes out of your sails, (probably for forever, you think to yourself).

All that, and your story’s been rejected.

I’ve been there, done that, and it’s never fun. In the last year, I have submitted nine different pieces for publication, and seven of those nine have been rejected. Today we’re going to get into how it can be a little less awful; we’re going to talk about dealing with rejection in a healthy way (and yes, there is a playlist in here somewhere).

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Recalibrate your view of rejection.

So often we view rejection as a bad thing, which is our natural instinct when something is painful, but rejection actually isn’t a bad thing. I promise (and I’m quite serious and quite sane).

Rejection is not failure. Rejection does not mean your story wasn’t good. Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn’t. But rejection does not mean you’re a no-good writer and you don’t know what you’re doing. Maybe you are and maybe you don’t. But not necessarily.

Just to be clear: rejection does not equal bad. Pain does not equal bad. Frustration and disappoint do not equal bad.

Rejection is actually very, very good for you (and me, especially me).

  • Rejection grows you as a person and as a writer. If you’ve been around Penprints for any length of time, you know that I am a firm believer in anything compels personal growth. Suffering through rejection can help you mature far more than publication.
  • Rejection thickens your skin. All art is painfully subjective, and thus there will always be differing opinions about your story. Hypersensitivity to anything resembling criticism reveals a shallowness of character. But rejection, which isn’t outright criticism but can feel like it, can deepen and grow you so that you don’t take things personally (because when people take things personally, they become angry, bitter, and they lash out).
  • Rejection teaches you humility. Nothing helps you maintain a realistic view of your writing skills as much as rejection. Humility isn’t having a low view of yourself; humility is having a realistic view of yourself. It’s so easy to forget how much we all still have to learn about writing, and sometimes we start to think we deserve it. We deserve publication. We deserve to sign with an agent. We’ve worked hard. We’ve put in the hours. By this time, for sure, we deserve. Rejection is a reminder that, no, you and I won’t get just even if we might “deserve” it. No matter how fast we’re rising in the industry, we are not entitled to anything.
  • Rejection means that God has a better home for your story. Now, better does not mean bigger. Better means better, be it the drawer of your desk for you to revisit and enjoy alone (an art that is quickly being lost in a world that wants everything experienced together) or the little publishing house you meet at your next writer’s conference or a really huge home ten or twenty years down the road.

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Reckon on rejection.

Your stories will get rejected. That’s just the way this industry goes, the way life goes. Don’t fall into the mindset of thinking you’re the exception to the rule what, no, I’ve never done that I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Expect rejection. Anticipate it. This isn’t to psych yourself out but to set yourself up for a shorter fall if/when your stories get rejected. If you submit something with the mindset that it could get published but is more likely to be rejected, you’re just being realistic.

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Return to why you write.

When the rejection is smarting, take some time to remember why you tell stories in the first place.

(Note: If your deepest motivation is publication, well, that’s not going to be much help. Publication is a great goal and dream to work toward, but it isn’t big enough. It won’t help you much in the long run; it isn’t rich enough fuel. Dream bigger, want bigger, and write bigger for bigger, better reasons, and remember those reasons.)

If your deepest motivation is to tell a good story, you can do that and still have your story rejected. But it doesn’t burn as badly because if you wrote a good story, you accomplished your goal.

If your deepest motivation is to have fun, you can do that and still have your story rejected. But it doesn’t burn as badly because if you had fun with the story, you accomplished your goal.

If your deepest motivation is to glorify God, you can do that and still have your story rejected. But it doesn’t burn as badly because if your story magnifies God in some way—be it in the excellence, themes, or characters—then you accomplished your goal.

So return to why you want to tell stories when the rejection email is sending your excitement and contentment up in flames. If you did what you set out to do, that’s enough.

So what the story isn’t published (yet!)?

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Final thoughts

  • It’s okay to be disappointed and disheartened. It’s okay to cry. You need to process.
  • Remember that your worth and your identity are not bound up in your writing—published or not. Your value and identity are in Jesus and Jesus alone.
  • Process your disappointment, but don’t wallow in it.
  • I listen to this little playlist when I submit stories and articles, and then I listen to it again after I get a rejection or acquisition notice. It’s about true wealth and worth and all that jazz.

Dealing with rejection in a healthy way begins long before you submit your story. It begins in the mindsets and habits you intentionally develop as you go along your little writer way.

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That’s all I’ve got for today!

What have been some ways you’ve dealt with rejection? I’m always looking for more tips since I get rejected most of the time, haha. Are there any stories/articles you’re prepping to submit somewhere? If so, tell me about them! If not, you should definitely give it a try!

With love,

Rosalie

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Cap-tivated [a flash fiction]

I’ve decided to share a flash fiction I wrote a while back with you all on the blog. For those of you who don’t know, a flash fiction is a story in 1000 words or under. Cap-tivated (the flash fic I’m sharing today) comes to 971 words.

Note: I’m under no delusions about my romance writing skills, just so we’re all clear from the outset. I just know that the way to get better at something is to practice, so here’s to practicing and jumping out of the comfort zone and writing romance even though you don’t really know how to write romance.


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She sported that awful St. Louis Cardinals tee and baseball cap the first time Cal saw her in the fifth grade. Any decent person would know better than to wear Cardinals stuff in Chicago Cubs territory, but Cal supposed that it was more proof that she was not a decent person.

It was just another Saturday of backyard ball with Jimmy, Nate, and Alex. Cal had struck Alex out twice and was about to start on a third thanks to his wicked curveball when she came up to the edge of the yard, baseball glove in hand and Cardinals cap shading her face. “Hi’ya! Do you have room for another player?”

The other boys looked to Cal. His yard, his job to get rid of the girl. He rubbed his thumb across the baseball and shrugged. “Ah, nah, two-on-two works pretty well for us.”

She adjusted her cap. “Oh, okay. Well, I’m Molly. I just moved into the house two doors down, so just give me a holler if you have room for another player.”

Cal nodded, as if they would ever want a girl underfoot for one of their games, and she disappeared down the street with an overly cheerful wave. Trying not to smirk, Cal wound up for his next pitch.

But she came back the next Saturday. And the next. And the next. And every single Saturday after that, even when it was raining. Always in that awful cap. And each time, the other three boys would look to Cal to handle it. His yard, his job to get rid of the girl. And each time, he’d come up with something to send her away.

But then Mom happened to be there one day when Molly showed up, and all hope was lost. “Cal, you let this sweet girl play with you,” Mom said before disappearing inside.

Sweet girl? Psh. Just look at that cap! There’s nothing sweet about her. But he had no choice. Molly bounced up to Cal. “Can I pitch?”

He shot a glance at the kitchen window. Mom’s silhouette lurked by the sink, probably watching their game with her Mom-eyes. Crud. No getting out of it. He reluctantly tossed the ball to Molly, teeth grinding. “Sure.”

The summer before high school Cal’s friends went off to camp while he stayed home. He sat on the swing set in the park, baseball glove on one hand, baseball in the other. One week in, and it was shaping up to be the loneliest, most boring summer in the history of summers.

A pair of tennis shoes appeared in the corner of his eye. “Hi’ya, Cal! Your mom said you’d be here.”

Mom, why do you do this to me?

Molly ground a woodchip under her shoe. “I thought we could maybe play some catch.”

He glanced up and took in her dusty, summer appearance. Two braids, an ever-present smile, and that awful Cardinals cap. She didn’t seem to ever change as the years passed. It was either that or he couldn’t get past that hat. “Eh, I’m not really in the mood.”

But she wouldn’t let it go. She straightened her cap and flipped a braid over her shoulder. “Or you could finally teach me that curveball.”

Of course she had to mention his famed curveball. It was like she knew he couldn’t resist the offer. She was that annoying. But by the last week of summer when his friends came home, Molly was throwing a better curveball than Cal, and Cal was carving a C and an M into a tree in the park.

“Tonight was really the best, babe.” Molly toyed with the brim of her Cardinals cap as they pulled into their driveway.

Cal shot her a smile and killed the engine. “I’m glad you liked it.”

She laughed. “I loved it. I still can’t decide if it’s harder to believe that you, Cal Foster, took me to a Cardinals game, or that it took four years of marriage for you to finally get around to it.”

“You know I work in baby steps.” He opened his car door. “I just wish you would have let me buy you a new cap. That one’s a mess.”

“Agh, Cal, this cap has so much sentimental value!” She pulled the cap off and gave the brim an affectionate brush.

“Then I can get you a glass case for it.”

She rolled her eyes. “Let’s pretend you didn’t say that. Anyway, babe, I’m gonna need some help getting out of the car.”

“Ah, right.” He swung his door closed and went around to her side. With a grin, he took her hands and helped her stand.

“Phew.” She put a hand on her rounded stomach, breathing a little hard. “He’s going to be a big boy.”

He led her up their front steps. “Boy? Since when did you decide that it’s a boy?”

“He carries so differently than Emma did, and Emma needs a little brother.”

Fishing the keys out of his pocket, he quirked an eyebrow at her. “That sounds so scientific.”

She grinned and twisted the end of one of her braids. “It is. And, your mom agrees with me.”

Cal groaned as he pushed the door open. “Of course she does.

Molly kissed his cheek. “And, also, I got Emma a little something special while you were getting refills.” She smirked and wandered inside, dropping her purse as she dug some cash out of her pocket for the babysitter.

As she disappeared into the kitchen and started chatting with the sitter, he opened her purse to find a toddler size Cardinals cap nestled next to the baseball she caught at the game. He rubbed the cap’s red and white stitching. “Well, boy or girl, this next baby gets a Cubs cap.”


Cap-tivated was submitted to a magazine and rejected in June 2017, and so it shall live out its days on Penprints. :)

Thanks for reading! You can find my published flash fictions here.

Are you a fan of flash fiction?

With love,

Rosalie

P.S. – here’s a shout out to my favorite sister-in-law, Janie, who came up with the adorable and brilliant title for this story!