I have a file in my filing cabinet drawer in my home office titled REJECTION LETTERS.

It’s stuffed. However, I am sad to say that I spent years and years and years throwing out rejection letters written to me by agents who did not want to represent me, publishers who did not want to publish me, and editors who did not want to edit me, publish me or even speak to me. Boy, do I wish I would have kept them. Wish I wouldda kept them all. Instead, I didn’t really start keeping track of all the rejections until well after I began to understand that being a professional writer meant you were going to get rejected. Probably for the rest of my career.

Learning to live with the disappointment, sorrow, angst, anger, bitterness and hurt was just a part of the job. Like baseball, there’s no shame in striking out. Even Hall of Famers do it a few times a week.

That’s why I was ticked to read this. It’s an article on how…

• George Orwell’s Animal Farm was rejected under the premise that “it’s impossible to sell animal stories in the United States.”

• Lord of the Flies was called “an absurd an uninteresting fantasy”

• The Fountainhead was called “unsaleable and unpublishable”

And on and on and on.

Football coaches teach that there is no shame in getting knocked down… so get back up and go make a play.

Basketball coaches talk about how there is no need to pout when your opponent scores on you (that’s what they are trying to do, after all) so take the ball out of bounds and keep playing the game.

But writers often seem to think that rejection is a wall instead of an inevitable speed bump. If Ayn Rand, Gertrude Stein, Hemmingway and Orwell can get rejected, so can I… and so can you.

Feel the sting, let it become more coal for your inner furnace and KEEP ON GOING!

(BTW, I think this is a rule for all professions, one we simply do not often enough teach to our young people today.)

The other day I wrote about the importance of dealing with rejection as a writer. Every writer I know or have ever read about (and that’s lots) has faced it.

Rejection is simply a realistic component of a writer’s professional life.

However, there’s a flip side to this as well. As a very reputable writer puts it…

You have to know how to accept rejection and reject acceptance.
~ Ray Brabury

Bradbury is so spot on about this aspect of being an author. While the rejection is brutal, acceptance can be insidious.

It’s not always insidious but it certainly can be.

All authors want approval. And experience tells me that the ones who most loudly say that they don’t want it are the ones who, deep down, want it the most.

It’s basic human nature. We work hard and pour out our hearts and would love to be positively acknowledged for our brilliance and genius and awe-inspiring literary ways.

But deep down we all also know, that it could be better. It can always be better. If I could have a conversation with Shakespeare, I’d love to chat with him about his own take on the work he produced for I have a feeling, he wouldn’t gush as much as the rest of us do about what he was able to accomplish but rather see what most writers see when they reflect back on their works… that “oh, if only I would have done this and added that and cut this, then the piece would have REALLY shined!”

We all think like that. As the poet Paul Valery once famously quipped, “A poem is never finished, only abandoned.”

I don’t know if abandoned is the right word — a project has to end at some point — but he makes a good point.

We can always re-write and always try to make it better. Alas, it’s never perfect.

That’s why rejecting acceptance is so dangerous. It breeds complacency and a false sense of accomplishment.

On the feedback front, rejection hurts but if it comes with thoughtful reasons, I can learn, improve and grow. (Writing groups struggle with this because sometimes egos get involved and they offer criticism just to hear their own voice in the room.)

Acceptance is good because, well, it’s acceptance. And I want that. But when my mom tells me how great she finds my latest book, I have to ask myself, “Is she really helping me right now?”

Carol Jago said the other day that: write and find a way to receive feedback from a critical friend.

My response to this was…
A friend is key because you need someone who doesn’t have an agenda to prove how smart they are by tearing down your efforts. Some readers are critical just to be critical. Friends do not do that. We all have weaknesses and the writing gets better when we get to see them (because writing is re-writing).

On the other hand, a friend who is not critical is not doing you any favors. Someone who just says “I love it!” no matter what you put in front of them isn’t really helping you either. They are making you feel good… but how is that going to improve the re-writing?

Because writing is re-writing.

Have faith in your own work to move past the “me no likes” that’ll you’ll inevitably get but also have faith in yourself not to blindly trust the “me really loves” you also get as well.

It’s a fine balance which, btw, I still do not always have the most firm grip upon.

We’re all works in progress, right?

I think I’ve spoken before about how, as a writer, I spent years and years and years knocking out material only to be rejected and rejected and rejected.

I used to think, back then, that it was a sign of my own weakness, my moral shortcomings, my inability to be articulate and disciplined and witty and engaging and a good storyteller and so on. Essentially, I used to think that being rejected as a writer was a negative.

These days I realize how wrong I was.

Yes, being rejected hurts. Being rejected humiliates. Being rejected stings in a deep way that only someone who really lays it all on the line and then hears “Sorry Charlie, no thanks,” can understand. The “owch-factor” is brutal.

Matter of fact, the owch-factor is probably why so few people actually ever really attempt to reach for their dreams in this world… cause coming up short can be way more painful than not ever having tried at all because then you can always tell yourself, “I could have if I tried.” Which is Bullshit! btw.)

Of course, these days I am much more philosophical about rejection. Sure, it helps that I am now under contract for my tenth published book aside from having captained an immense curriculum project that represents the best teaching I have ever done. Plus, nowadays all kinds of major publishers are eager to work with me. Truly, I am one of the lucky ones. (And I work hard not to forget it.)

However, rejection is a giver of wisdom once you can learn to put your own feelings of having your ego bruised aside. Rejection teaches things. (BTW, I don’t know that success doesn’t teach things as well — I won’t go that far to say that the wisdom rejection offers is more profound than that of success because both, I’ve learned, are pretty profound if you are paying attention.)

But nowadays, I see more of a pattern to rejection. And it’s staring us all in the face if we pay attention.

For example, read this article.

Look at what Warren Buffet has to say about rejection in the piece.

“The truth is, everything that has happened in my life…that I thought was a crushing event at the time, has turned out for the better,” Mr. Buffett says. With the exception of health problems, he says, setbacks teach “lessons that carry you along. You learn that a temporary defeat is not a permanent one. In the end, it can be an opportunity.”

Mr. Buffett regards his rejection at age 19 by Harvard Business School as a pivotal episode in his life. Looking back, he says Harvard wouldn’t have been a good fit. But at the time, he “had this feeling of dread” after being rejected in an admissions interview in Chicago.

And the other night, I was burned out so I turned on the tv. (Rare for me.) Lo and behold the biography channel was showing an episode on Rodney Dangerfield. Literally, what I learned about the man amazed me.

Rodney Dangerfield was once Jack Roy, a comedian who never made it. For 12 years Jack Roy toiled. Finally, he got married and quit showbiz all together. For the next 11 years after that he sold aluminum siding. (Middle class successful, too.) But he kept writing and writing and writing jokes. Finally, he couldn’t stand his life anymore and hit the stage again… with a new name. (Yep, Rodney Dangerfield.)

He ended up on Ed Sullivan.
He ended up being one of Johnny Carson’s favorite guests. (25 million viewers a night at the time.)
He opened a comedy club, did a few movies (Caddyshack and Back to School being all time classics, IMHO) and basically, Rodney Dangerfield became the man we know today. (Or used to know – he passed a few years ago.)

As it turned out, Rodney was a writer’s writer as well. The guy made it look so easy, “I tell ya, I don’t get no respect…” but Rodeny didn’t even hit upon that tag line til he was in his fifties.

Over 30 years after he started in show business!

And all the pros in the comedy business talked about how Rodney was so precise and meticulate with his lines. How he’d re-write and re-write and re-write jokes.

In the tv piece, Rodney talked about how it would talk him 3 or 4 months to write 6 minutes worth of material for Johnny Carson.

Four months to write 6 minutes? Wow.

Rodney knew rejection.
Warren Buffet knew rejection.
It taught them success.

And if we can teach our students this, we will have taught them something of great value.

Don’t give up. There is an Outstanding Plus Side to Rejection.