Why Rejection Isn't the End of Your Story – Written by Gwen

Rejection isn't necessarily the story's bitter end, unfortunately. It's a word that bites deeply, especially for struggling writers lately. Rejection stings terribly, often manifesting as a scathing personal rebuke of talent, effort, and cherished dreams after receiving a blandly worded rejection letter, a query gone unanswered, or even a brutal critique. Rejection doesn't necessarily define you or your work, and truth be told, every writer should bear that in mind always.

Rejection looms large in a writer's journey, oftentimes, seasoned scribes tell you it's just part of getting into print somehow. J. K. Rowling's Harry Potter manuscript was rejected pretty brutally by a dozen publishers or so initially. Stephen King famously tossed Carrie's manuscript in the trash before his wife retrieved it from there. These aren't just anecdotes, they're stark reminders that celebrated writers faced fierce resistance before finally gaining belated widespread recognition. Rejection isn't necessarily a final verdict on someone's abilities or potential for success in their endeavors. Matters of timing or discerning taste frequently hinge on finding the right reader quite serendipitously. Something that falls flat with one editor might strike a chord deeply with another editor somehow. Sometimes your voice just needs to land in the right place, or market readiness isn't quite there yet.
​
Rejection tends to sting pretty badly when folks tie their self worth loosely around external validation and crappy outside acceptance. Writing is an intensely personal act where you're baring your soul and spilling emotions recklessly onto the page with unbridled imagination. Rejection of your work doesn't necessarily mean you're being rejected personally, and that's a pretty big distinction to make. Your story's value doesn't hinge on some perceived flaw, and talent sufficiency isn't necessarily a prerequisite for a compelling narrative. This piece just wasn't right for here and now somehow. Maintaining somewhat healthy detachment from one's professional endeavors can foster resilience quite effectively in most individuals over time. Your writing bleeds you utterly, but it sharpens eerily with each weird piece you scribble down, whether wildly accepted or thoroughly rejected.

Rejection brutally hurts, yet somehow gifts growth beneath the surface of painful regret and stinging disappointment that slowly fades with time. Did feedback on any point towards areas needing improvement drastically, somehow? Read your work afresh and rework it into something remarkably stronger with keen insight. Maybe it's not about altering work entirely, but redirecting energy towards a better elsewhere somehow, or perhaps finding a new trajectory entirely. Rejection brutally teaches valuable persistence remarkably well beneath harsh, glaring spotlights. It challenges you deeply to hold onto passion ardently and believe in your distinctive voice when others utterly dismiss it. It nudges you pretty deeply toward a resilience that every successful writer somehow carries with them always.

Every rejection brings you eerily closer to that elusive yes, and writers should just keep going afterwards, quite simply. Craft the next sentence pretty quickly now. Revise the next draft quickly with utmost care. Submit the next query quickly now. Rejection wins only if it halts your progress utterly, and you subsequently give up trying again somehow. Publishing plays out over time, and resilience serves as a quietly potent secret weapon beneath the surface somehow. You're defined not by rejections but by gritty comebacks with pen held tightly in hand, ready to scribble again fiercely.

Rejection is just one particularly rough chapter, not the conclusion of your story, which remains still being scribbled in faint ink. Your story as a writer unfolds still pretty slowly, shaped heavily by defeats and gumption for persevering through various tough jams. You're not entirely alone and not quite finished yet somehow. Next time you get rejected, take a deep breath and pause awhile, but keep pushing forward really hard anyway. Matters your voice deeply amidst uncertainty. Your story resonates deeply somehow. Still out there somewhere, the right audience waits quietly for it. Just keep scribbling fervently now. Rejection isn't necessarily an endpoint but rather a fairly typical occurrence along a winding, arduous path.
​
This blog post was written by Gwen.