For obvious reasons, writers often find rejection difficult. Even the word feels unnecessarily harsh. When that dreaded notification arrives, most forget that it’s only a collection of your words – and not you yourself – that’s been turned down.

Here – from a serial rejectee – are some ways to reframe the concept of rejection in a more positive light.

Rejections are acknowledgements. Apart from acceptance, the alternative to rejection – still all too common – is deafening silence. I know of writers with poems or stories in submission queues for three or four years. Personally, I’d rather know asap if someone wants to say No. Then I can move on and decide what to do with it next. So: thank you very much for letting me know.

Rejections are just preferences. Many editors and publishers go out of their way to explain that they have to turn down loads of great work because they just don’t have the capacity to publish it all. Sometimes your work is fine, it just doesn’t fit with the reviewer’s taste (or their unconscious biases). Maybe it’s too similar to something else they’re running, or it just got pushed out by something they thought even better.

Literary judgments are notoriously subjective. You can improve your chances by making sure you’re familiar with who you’re subbing to and looking for a likely preferential fit. Do they publish people who write in a similar style or genre to you? Could you imagine getting on with them at a party?

Rejections are lessons. We must also add that sometimes work gets rejected because it isn’t good enough. True, I once wrote a story that was rejected 27 times before winning a competition. But I’ve also had several rejected loads of times and show no sign of being accepted any time soon.

Look again at the work, see what you can do differently. In some cases, you may have to let the piece go and work on something else. Understanding the difference between work that wasn’t a good fit and work that wasn’t good enough is the lifetime job of a serious writer.

Rejections are reward and motivation. ‘I love my rejection slips,’ wrote Sylvia Plath. ‘They show I try.’ Because rejections show that you’re writing hard and chasing your dream, they are a cause for motivation and even celebration. If you’re serious about being published, you have to keep submitting. That means more rejections – but also, more chances of an acceptance.

Some people even target #100rejections per year, on the grounds that there’ll have to be a few acceptances in among all those too. One writer adds a pretty bead for each rejection to a necklace that they’ll wear once their book is published. Some add a buck to a jar and save up for a nice bottle of wine or bourbon. ‘Rejections are fuel,’ as the writer Jason Jackson puts it.

Rejections are acceptances. When you receive a rejection from a dream mag or publisher that is full of constructive feedback and urges you to keep on, it’s almost as good as an acceptance. An honest to goodness editor gave you their feedback for no charge.

Rejections are fun. Once you can start to dance with rejections, they become a great source of humour and creativity. Take Author Greg Levin’s hilarious ‘Rejection letter rejecting a rejection letter’: 

Unfortunately, I am unable to accept your rejection at this time. Please understand I receive a high volume of rejection notifications and must be highly selective in choosing those I’m able to handle.

Rejections are part and parcel of the writing life. If we can have a little fun with them, we can learn to take them less personally and grow a little more resilience.

BIO – Dan Brotzel (@brotzel_fiction) is co-author of a new comic novel, Kitten on a Fatberg (Unbound). To pre-order Kitten on a Fatberg for a 10% discount, quote KITTEN10