Writers talk a lot about coping with rejection. I used to get lots of messages from editors and agencies that said things like ‘we decided to go another way’ or ‘sorry, this one’s not for us’ or ‘we regret to inform you that on this occasion your application has been unsuccessful’.

But I don’t receive many rejections anymore. Mostly get … silence. When I fire things off into the digital ether – CVs, ideas, stories, manuscripts –I just simply never hear back at all.

Hard to quantify, but it seems to me that this has become the norm. No doubt it’s a supply-and-demand thing: there are so many writing wannabes nowadays that editors could fill their whole days simply turning people down.

But I even get the silent treatment from people who’ve asked me to contact them. A former boss messaged me on LinkedIn to say he wanted a catch-up. A head of an agency said he was turning down my application for a content contract but wanted to meet up ‘to discuss other opportunities’. A charity marketer I know well asked me to consider writing some words for his site. I replied to all of these, and… nada.

I have two ways of dealing with silence now, and it’s in terms of things I don’t do anymore: follow up and wait around.

Sure, if someone has specifically asked me for something, I’ll send a chaser. If they’re still silent after that, I leave the ball in their court. But if I’ve subbed something cold, I rarely follow up at all.

Let’s be real: editors don’t enjoy reading lists of notes from writers asking ‘if there’s any update’ or ‘just checking in’. Keep reaching out like that and they will eventually start to notice you, all right, albeit for the wrong reasons.

If an editor has use of you, you’ll know. If you don’t hear, they’re probably looking elsewhere. Such is life. In this business, as someone once said, it’s not dog-eat-dog. It’s dog doesn’t read dog’s email.

If it’s a project I’m really keen on, however, I do find a way to quietly remind an editor that I’m still there, but I don’t do it in reference to me or my submission. Instead, I might comment on one of their social media posts or even contribute to their Justgiving page.

Along with not following up, my other way of sitting with the silence is to continue subbing and not waiting around.

Editors have any number of writers and ideas to consider at any given time. Well, I’m busy, too. Not a derogatory comment, it’s just I make sure I stay busy. Every week I send my fiction manuscripts to publishers. I pitch article ideas to websites and magazines. I enter short story competitions. I apply for content contracts and jobs. And I write full-time for a living.

Also busy with a pipeline of paid projects, I sub so much and so often that I forget what I’ve got out there. Rejections cease to sting because there’s always a response or opportunity around the corner. Sure, your sixth rejection might hurt, but you won’t even notice your 600th.

I’ve also embraced the idea that a good chunk of my projects will come to nothing – even the ones that have been verbally promised and apparently signed off on. But that’s just as well, because I have so many irons in the fire that if there was a run on the Brotzel writing bank – if everything that might come in were to come in – I’d have to start a small outsourcing business.

As writers we need to see that pitching becomes part of our daily work and not hang around in an anxious limbo emotionally invested in things that might just never happen. Don’t waste your life waiting. Just get on with the next thing.

And when the good news does come in – a story acceptance, a freelance feature commission, a new content gig – you can enjoy the lovely surprise. Rejection becomes little more than a glance at a moment in time, because you’re just too busy to think about it.

BIO – Dan’s latest novel is Thank You For The Days. He writes widely on Medium, too.