Rejection is part of the writing life—but that doesn’t make it easy.
Whether it’s a form letter, a kind pass, or a stack of unanswered submissions, hearing “no” can feel personal. Like a crack in a cherished bowl, rejection can feel like a fracture in our creative spirit. But just as the Japanese art of kintsugi repairs broken pottery with veins of gold—highlighting rather than hiding the flaws—so too can rejection become a visible, valuable part of a writer’s journey. Each “no” we receive offers an opportunity to reflect, grow, and refine our work. With time and care, these rejections become the golden lines that strengthen not only our stories, but also our resilience, reminding us that our imperfections are not disqualifications—they are proof of courage and commitment.
So what if we reframed rejection as information—not failure?
Remember, a rejection or a pass on your submission doesn’t mean your story has no value. It means it didn’t fit that list, that day, that editor. The trick is to mine the moment for growth—and to keep going.
As an old acting teacher of mine used to say, “Never mind the talent, do you have the tenacity?”
Ways to Reframe Rejection
- “Not right for me” isn’t the same as “not good.”
Tastes, timing, and editorial needs vary widely. There are a number of reasons why your manuscript may not be “right” for someone’s list at that time – maybe they already have something similar, maybe they are focusing more on a different genre, etc. It’s not personal, it’s just business. And “not right” for one could be “just right” for another. It only takes one “yes”!
- Personal rejections = progress.
If an agent or editor takes time to comment or encourage future submissions, that’s a step forward. It means they took your work seriously enough to take some of their very valuable time to offer you feedback. We call this a “champagne rejection,” and it’s actually a very good sign.
- Form rejections mean you’re in the game.
You submitted! That alone separates you from many would-be authors who are stuck in their fear of rejection or constantly second-guessing their manuscript’s submission readiness.
- Patterns are valuable.
If several rejections mention similar concerns (voice, clarity, structure), that’s useful feedback to apply in revision. (And this is why, in The Complete Picture Book Submissions System, Julie Hedlund and I recommend submitting in small batches, so you can incorporate any consistent feedback before submitting too widely.)
- Silence doesn’t mean failure.
Sometimes silence = backlog. Check the agency or publisher’s submission guidelines and see if they provide a time frame for responses. If not, allow at least 6-8 weeks. Be patient, and keep writing. Work on your next project!
Rejection isn’t the end of the road. It’s a necessary part of the writing terrain. It builds muscle, and breeds resilience.
And it gets easier the more you normalize it.
