Dear Rejected: It Can Hurt Like Hell, But Here's How To Press On And Improve Your Odds

Lit Salon addresses the truth of rejection in the literary life from three angles: the human, the artistic, and the mathematical + the real reason rejection hurts like a kick + how to keep going

“We all line up to ask each other for help.” 

–Tomas Tranströmer, “Solitude”

Writing today with some straight talk on rejection and how to better your odds against it while also persevering in the face of it. But first, a few reminders!

Upcoming Classes

I now have two last openings in the Monday section of Writing in the Dark, the virtual writing workshop. You can register here—I would love to write with you!

Other offerings: a beautiful one-day workshop on voice on October 14 with Jill Swenson, and a two-part workshop on finding the metaphors of our lives with Arya Samuelson starting November 11.

As I’ve said, Elephant Rock teachers are not just talented and well-published writers; they’re also devoted teaching artists, and we would love to welcome you to one of our classroom communities.

ALSO: Writing in the Dark’s 12-Week Story Challenge starts December 6 and I AM SO EXCITED!!

I’ll soon be sending out a separate post outlining the concrete craft elements we’ll cover for that 12-week intensive, and exactly what you can expect to take away, so watch for those posts soon. But in a nutshell, we will dive into the most essential elements of fictional craft in a way that will enliven the entirety of your writing across genres. We’ll also cover a few basic approaches to making a story into a story. That means that if you want to write a complete story, you’ll be invited and supported in doing that. But you can also write a series of shorts that exemplify vital craft elements that can help your work glow and pulse from within. Either way, you will significantly expand your writing toolkit, regardless of genre.

Ultimately, author Christian Fennell gets at what I want to do during the Story Challenge quite nicely by saying:

On writing fiction. Let go—of everything. Certainly, that which you think you know. And do not seek meaning, but rather, truth, as you fall lost through the 'hot blind earth' of your unknown self.

Remember, the full curricula of all seasonal intensives (including the archives of past intensives like the Essay Challenge and the 30-Day Creativity Challenge!) is always available to all paid subscribers. A paid subscription gives you access to all the assignments and craft essays in the Story Challenge and lets you participate in the comment threads where you can ask questions and receive feedback from other participants as well as from me. And if you want the most interactive experience (an exciting new tier of Writing in the Dark that we rolled out last month), a tier that includes Voice & Video Memos (you can listen to the first Voice Memo here) and live Zooms, then you should opt for the founding member plan. Founding members pay $30 more than the base annual rate of $50, but still less overall than $7 monthly.

Whatever you choose, I’m just grateful you’re here and I am so dang excited to write with you and create some incredible new work going into 2024!

Now for today’s Lit Salon, and the epigraph on this post—this quote from Tomas Tranströmer’s “Solitude”:

We all line up to ask each other for help.

This sentiment is so beautiful. It reminds me of something Dorothy Allison said when I had the great fortune of studying with her years ago at a Tin House Winter Workshop.

My cohort was meeting in the private beach house next door to the Sylvia Beach Hotel, and Dorothy and I were walking together from the hotel to the house a few minutes before workshop was supposed to start. A short, beautiful walk on a warm morning. Let me tell you, I was pretty much aflutter to be shoulder-to-shoulder with Dorothy and, therefore, I now barely remember our conversation at all. When you are star struck, the words just kind of hang and glow like meaningless orbs in the air around you.

But I do recall one thing Dorothy said to me on that short walk, because she prefaced it with a sigh, a laugh, a small shrug, thus garnering my full attention before she opened her mouth and said, “All we have to is help each other, right? That’s it. That’s all we’re here to do.”

I’ve never forgotten those words—she meant them so sincerely in regard, quite literally, to the task we work-shoppers were about to face over the next few days of assessing and discussing one another’s manuscripts, with Dorothy as our brazen, brave, big-hearted leader.

All we had to do is help each other.

Such a simple truth.

Sometimes, though, the literary world doesn’t feel aligned with that truth. Sometimes it feels like the opposite, like the mountains are too steep to climb and the helpers are few and far between.

That’s what this month’s Lit Salon addresses: how to persevere when we’re feeling particularly beleaguered by the challenges, especially the challenge of rejection.

Lit Salon

Dear Rejected: It Can Hurt Like Hell, But Here's How To Press On And Improve Your Odds

Dear Jeannine,

I feel frustrated with myself for even asking a question about rejection, because I know, I know, I know … it’s just part of the deal with writing. Right? It’s just part of the deal? But, honestly, how do you deal with it? Or are you past that at this point?

The thing is, I’ve landed a few acceptances in good journals over the last few years, I’ve gotten nothing but rejections lately. And it’s getting me down something bad. I’m struggling to the point where I don’t even want to send my work out to journals let alone enter my work for residencies, fellowships, contests, etc. And the thing is, I know it’s self-defeating to let rejections get me down like this, but also … I can’t seem to help it lately. I’m just wallowing in disappointment.

Any wisdom for me?

Signed,

Rejected

Dear Rejected,

I am definitely not “past” the pain of rejection at this point. If only! But I’ve definitely developed some strategies for working effectively in spite of the inevitable flow of nos. To your question of how do I deal with rejection, I’ll start with the simple answer first: I embrace it as a sign that I am producing new work/applications/etc. and sending it out into the world. I even have, in the past, set goals for how many rejections I can get in a year, with the point being, of course, to get myself to create and submit more work.

But, that simple answer is just the tip of the iceberg—the ice itself being far more complex, nuanced, and labor intensive.

So, hang on to your hat, because this is a complicated topic and I’ve got some complicated processes around ensuring that I can embrace rejection, even when it hurts, while still continuing to make work. Here’s what I do.