“Don’t allow your wounds to transform you into someone you are not.” —Paulo Coelho
It doesn’t happen often, but every once in a while, I hear a story (second hand) about writers who have been wounded by my feedback. These stories reach me many years after the feedback has been given.
Every single time, while I usually remember the writer in question, I have forgotten what I said, or what the project was about.
I often like to advise writers: Don’t take rejection personally. When you seek commercial publication, you have to switch mindsets. You have to see your writing as a product. You’re entering into a business transaction.
Of course, that’s very easy for me to say. I’m not the one being rejected. That said, I’ve had my share of professional, business-based rejection, too. It gets easier the more you experience it. And when you work on the inside of a publishing house, and you see how decisions get made day to day, you realize there’s nothing about it that any author ought to take seriously.
I wish I could tell those writers, the ones who carry wounds from words I uttered years ago, that what I said was not meant to be taken seriously. It was said as part of my business day, and sometimes I forget there could be a person allowing my words to carry a weight they shouldn’t have.
If you’re carrying around a rejection burden, I hope you’ll reflect on whether or not the person who rejected you is still thinking about it, or could even recall the rejection. If they’re not likely to be carrying a burden, then why do you keep it around for yourself?
For additional inspiration: multiple versions of Two Monks Carry a Woman
Jane Friedman has spent her entire career working in the publishing industry, with a focus on business reporting and author education. Established in 2015, her newsletter The Bottom Line provides nuanced market intelligence to thousands of authors and industry professionals; in 2023, she was named Publishing Commentator of the Year by Digital Book World.
Jane’s expertise regularly features in major media outlets such as The New York Times, The Atlantic, NPR, The Today Show, Wired, The Guardian, Fox News, and BBC. Her book, The Business of Being a Writer, Second Edition (The University of Chicago Press), is used as a classroom text by many writing and publishing degree programs. She reaches thousands through speaking engagements and workshops at diverse venues worldwide, including NYU’s Advanced Publishing Institute, Frankfurt Book Fair, and numerous MFA programs.
This is great advice. I was just thinking today how rejection has made me tougher and better at taking criticism. It has taken a long time for me to learn not to take rejection or criticism personally. As you say, it’s about the work/product. I think understanding this has made me a better writer and a happier person.
When listening to advice/criticism/feedback, I think it’s helpful to think of yourself as an observer or reporter, collecting information—rather than as someone listening to a verdict! 🙂
Great post and reminder, Jane. I’ve also always loved the Two Monks Carry a Woman story.
Yes! One of my favorites!
I love what Ron Goulart said. “Never assume that a rejection of your stuff is also a rejection of you as a person. Unless it’s accompanied by a punch in the nose.”
LOL! Indeed.
Jane,
Thanks so much for your advice. It’s all quite valid. I think what people should remember with writing is that it’s a highly saturated market. It’s not as simple as write something… submit it… get published. It takes work and perseverance. Rejection is all part of the game.
Thanks!
Lexi
Thinking of it as a game is exactly right.
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This is such great advice. Even when you do have several books published, you can still face rejection. So this is even more important to remember (as well as when you get those nasty reviews or emails from complaining readers).
This is such great advice. Even when you do have several books published, you can still face rejection. So this is even more important to remember (as well as when you get those nasty reviews or emails from complaining readers).
A good adage: What other people think of you isn’t your business.
Conceptually good advice, and writers most certainly must not wallow in the pain of rejection, but there’s no comparison between what an agent feels when rejecting a query/submission and the what the writer feels when rejected. Agents have zero invested in what she rejects so, of course, she is not going to carry a burden. How could she? If she did then the agent would be an emotional wreck after sending out her dozens of rejection emails a week.
Of course it’s unhealthy for writers to wallow in rejection, but there is a big imbalance in the impact of each rejection on either party.
In the time that it takes a writer to draft and revise a single novel, an agent may reject thousands of queries. No wonder the rejection means more to the writer — if his novel is rejected, he can write another in six months or a year. The agent need only wait a day to have a whole new selection of queries to flip through.
There’s an imbalance in the sense that it’s the very framework you’ve created. Change the framework, change the impact.
As a follow-up thought, too … I think these moments are incredibly valuable for a little questioning of ourselves, such as:
Does it matter to me who rejects it, or is it simply the fact it is rejected?
Does the number of rejections matter, or simply that it will ultimately be accepted?
Does the reason it is rejected matter? Why do some reasons feel better than others?
Why is it important that it is accepted? Is it important who ultimately accepts it?
If it is never accepted, what does that ultimately mean for the time I’ve put into this? Does it mean that I’ve wasted my time? Why or why not?
With every answer there is usually another question that gets asked. I recommend going as far down the rabbit hole as possible.
If you would like to suffer & be in more pain over rejection (than the agent), that’s one way to play the game. But only one way.
Conceptually good advice, and writers most certainly must not wallow in the pain of rejection, but there’s no comparison between what an agent feels when rejecting a query/submission and the what the writer feels when rejected. Agents have zero invested in what she rejects so, of course, she is not going to carry a burden. How could she? If she did then the agent would be an emotional wreck after sending out her dozens of rejection emails a week.
Conceptually good advice, and writers most certainly must not wallow in the pain of rejection, but there’s no comparison between what an agent feels when rejecting a query/submission and what the writer feels when rejected. An agent has nothing invested in what she rejects so, of course, she is not going to carry a burden. How could she? If she did then the agent would be an emotional wreck after sending out her dozens of rejection emails a week.