Changing the Rejection Narrative

By Jennifer Lang

For the past few years, my literary journal submissions have become more regular, my Submittable account more colorful. The grey DECLINED rectangles far outweigh the green ACCEPTED ones, with a smattering of black WITHDRAWN rectangles, along with a mix of two cool blues. This past year, I’ve received 56 no thank yous and 4 yesses, we love your work and would like to publish it.  

But today, I had an epiphany similar to one in my memoir-in-progress. I can wallow in my losses, focus on the negatives, count and recount the rejections—or I can change my perspective and reframe my narrative. Because in 2020, a year like none other in my 55-year-old lifetime, I’ve achieved so much more than I ever imagined possible. I am no longer limited to writing creative nonfiction. I do not shy away from playing with form, from learning other genres, or from entering contests. Because in 2020, I have:

• 1 book review
• 1 essay (after 35 rejections over the past five years and countless revisions)
• 1 prose poem—all new territory and terrifying
• 1 unclear, experimental, hybrid CNF/poem with erasures and line breaks
• 1 list essay for an anthology called Art in the Time of Covid-19
• 1 1^st-place flash contest win that led to
• 1 Pushcart Prize nomination
• 1 hold-on-tight, your essay has made it to our second round of reviewing for an anthology
• 1 of the most thoughtful, generous rejections to a contest with feedback from several readers, which led to back-and-forth emails with the editor-in-chief

And, of 13 submissions to various independent presses for a memoir manuscript, thus far 3 have declined, 4 in-progress, and 6 received on Submittable (not including all the others sent by email or separate systems).

Rather than dwell on what didn’t come to pass and think poor me, I can look through another lens, perhaps even feel proud of how far I’ve reached, how much I’ve grown.

This past year, I participated in a unique podcast when I was interviewed, in Hebrew, by an Israeli DJ and read my work, in English, which she set to disco music (apart from my appalling accent, it was a really fun writing experience). Last March, I co-founded a writing community with a friend on the other side of the world to pull myself—and each other—out of lockdown paralysis (and we’re still going strong and open to newcomers). And I’ve pushed myself out of my social-media comfort zone, trying to be a better literary citizen and give where I can give and not just take when I want or need to take.

None of this is meant to boast. My intention is to help those of you who feel down about yourself or your writing life to tally up your year’s accomplishments with different eyes. Another type of re-vision. Did you break into a dream publication? Did you return to writing after a long break? Do you feel happy, satisfied, creatively fulfilled when you approach the blank page? Did you join a writing group? Reach out to a writer you admire? Find someone who believes in your words or supports your work? Did you memorize a favorite poem? It all counts.

As we kick off 2021, my wish for you, and me, and everyone in this community is to write what moves you, what compels you, what makes you feel whole and healthy, and, above all, to stay healthy—mind, body, soul—as the world keeps striking and rebounding. We cannot control how long it will carom, but we can control our reaction. We can re-see our narrative.

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Born and bred in the San Francisco Bay Area, Jennifer Lang lives in Tel Aviv. Her essays have appeared in Baltimore Review, Under the Sun, Ascent, Brevity Blog, and Crab Orchard Review, among other venues. A Pushcart Prize and Best American Essays nominee, Lang holds an MFA from Vermont College of Fine Arts and serves as an Assistant Editor for Brevity. Find her at israelwriterstudio.com and follow her @JenLangWrites.