The Five R’s of Managing the “No, Thank You”
Rejection hurts. Anytime. Anywhere. A refusal of your writing is a special kind of pain. It feels not only a dismissal of your gift, but of your time and your effort, your words, a piece of your heart, if not your soul. A dismissal of such an intimate sharing is going to sting.
That we even think of the process as “rejection” begs the question why? Why go looking for the harshest, most painful description possible? Having no answers for that, I offer here one way you might roll through a No, thank you.
Read the actual letter you received. If your letter sends regrets and wishes good fortune in the future, take it for what it is—a letter sending regrets and a wish for good fortune in the future. When that’s in obviously (and often) form letter style, it’s not meant as an insult. It’s a fact of how much time anyone has in a day. Those who send rejections are aware they are likely causing hurt. Better to rip that adhesive tape right off the wound, and get the deed done.
Reality needs to settle in. Give what a No means to you some time to process—as opposed to rushing to immediate rewrites and revisions. One person has responded to a few pages of your work. What exactly does their response tell you? It’s worth getting five or six declining responses so you may look for patterns of reactions before assuming your manuscript needs fixing. Talking to other writers can offer perspective.
You’ve heard No before. You’ll hear No again. If you hope to publish, you’re going to hear No, thank you a lot. That proves only one thing. You are a real, working writer.
Rest. Take the time think and feel your way through to what you want to do next. Some writers get right back on the horse they know is likely to throw them again. That’s how they handle a fall. You may not be one of those writers. Are you a one-submission-at-a-time person? Do you need to reread your manuscript? Do what your instincts say is right for you. This can be a long journey. You may as well be comfortable.
Respect yourself. Seeking representation or publishing is hard enough without berating yourself or your work when your hoped for outcome isn’t realized. Self-respect is essential. A No does not mean you “suck” or that you’ve “wasted time” on writing. That’s your Inner Critic, your ego talking. Do not say things about yourself or your work that you wouldn’t look another writer in the eye and repeat verbatim about them. Respect your writing as you respect that of others.
Resilience is the goal here. You’ll bounce back from this No, thank you as you have bounced back from countless refusals over the course of your life. Your process of getting through may be faster or slower than another person’s. That means nothing. What you need is not a measure of your worth. It’s unique to the person you are. Acceptance of yourself in your situation is where you find resilience.
So, when the next polite refusal comes calling, face it down on your terms. Read the words. Get Real about what those words mean. Rest while you plan your next step. Respect your process. Enjoy the empowerment of your Resilience.
You’ve heard No before. You’ll hear No again. If you hope to publish, you’re going to hear No, thank you a lot. That proves only one thing. You are a real, working writer.
Writing Exercise
Write a letter reminding yourself of how you want to respond to an agent’s or editor’s declining your invitation to represent your work. List your choices and maybe what you hope to do differently. Keep it real but use words of respect and kindness. Put that letter in an envelope with your name on it. You may want to add “To Read When Needed.” Keep this letter someplace easily in reach. When the inevitable happens, because it will, read that letter aloud to yourself until you hear your own resilience in your words. Put that letter back in the envelope for the next time you need it.