Rejection Sucks
Rejection sucks. Whether it’s a job, a college, a grant, a manuscript, a short story, or even a relationship—it hurts. We’ve all been there. We pour our heart, time, and expertise into something we care about, only to hear the familiar refrains: “We regret to inform you…” “After careful consideration…” “We received a large number of qualified applicants…” “We encourage you to submit again in the future.”
It feels personal, like someone is telling you you’re not good enough. And the first thought that rushes in is often: How is this possible? I was the best candidate. I was overqualified. This isn’t fair.
I know the feeling well. I’ve been rejected countless times—by publishers, by agents, by employers in my academic field. No one would hire me, no one would publish me. In 2019, I finally decided to create my own opportunities. I launched History Through Fiction and gave myself the job no one else would. In doing so, I also gave myself the power to decide what does and doesn’t get published. But that power comes with a difficult responsibility: doing the rejecting.
At first, submissions trickled in—just a handful. Now, six years later, I receive them daily. For this summer’s short story contest, we had 110 entries. With more submissions comes more rejection. And here’s what I’ve learned: rejection isn’t simple. Decisions aren’t made solely on the quality of a piece. They’re shaped by time constraints, personal moods, editorial priorities, market realities, and sometimes just the randomness of life.
This has shown me that the clichés people offer after rejection are often true:
You just weren’t the right fit.
Don’t give up.
It’s their loss, not yours.
Your hard work will pay off.
Rejection often has less to do with you, and more to do with the person or institution making the decision. That’s why there are two key lessons to carry with you:
It’s not your fault. You can’t possibly know all the factors behind the “no.”
Don’t lash out. Anger toward the publisher, employer, or institution gains nothing.
Most writers I encounter handle rejection gracefully—by not responding at all, or by replying with kindness and gratitude. But occasionally, frustration spills over. Recently, a writer who wasn’t longlisted for our contest accused me, publicly and privately, of not understanding the short story genre. Maybe they’re right. Maybe I’m not the most qualified person to judge. But that’s beside the point. Rejection doesn’t mean you or your work lack value. It simply means I wasn’t able to say yes.
And sometimes, I may not be smart enough to say yes.
As Keith Olbermann once put it:
“The world bursts at the seams with people ready to tell you you’re not good enough. On occasion, some may be correct. But do not do their work for them. Seek any job; ask anyone out; pursue any goal. Don’t take it personally when they say ‘no’—they may not be smart enough to say ‘yes.’”
Rejection sucks. But remember this: the higher the pedestal you place an opportunity on, the farther you’ll fall when it doesn’t work out. No single opportunity is worth your self-worth.
I couldn’t get past rejection, so I built my own path. And even now, from the other side, I see how imperfect the process is. We’ll keep publishing good stories at History Through Fiction—but we’ll pass on good ones too. That’s just the nature of submissions.
So if you’ve been rejected: don’t give up, don’t take it personally, and don’t let one “no” stop you from chasing the next “yes.”
Even when you say why you'd reject a story, you manage to encourage the writer to keep going. (:
Puts in mind a remembrance -- of a salty sailor (Korean-war vet now deceased) pal of mine. When he was on shore leave, he gave himself up to 100 tries to get a date from a woman in port. Told us he always found someone. In his later years -- at least 15 years ago now -- he self-published a rousing tale of his days as a border agent along the Rio Grande.