Having one of your labors of love rejected by a purveyor of art is probably one of the nastiest blows to one's egos one can ever sustain. Whether your medium is music, paint, voice, instrument, body, or words, the life of an artist is one dominated by masochism. We know our odds of breaking through into the mainstream or into some form of esteemed ubiquity within in a more localized community of peers is low, and yet the most dedicated persevere. It's akin to stepping outside during a thunderstorm with a near certainty that you're going to be struck by lightning.

But I'm new to this game, both in the writing end (at least in terms of trying to take it to the "next level") and in the publishing end. I've submitted three works for consideration to handfuls of would-be publishers. The first one was accepted. It was a shock, really. It's the sort of rare event on the scale of a full-court shot thrown backward over one's head. The other two have received one rejection
each.

I have to say, it sucks. I expect rejection every time I send a story out, but those expectations do little to absorb the blow of disappointment that someone didn't find me good enough to feature in their publication.

My first reaction is to berate myself. I'm not one of those people who blames others off the bat when things don't go well. In those cases, I'm typically pointing the finger at myself first. So in order to cope and not end up in a bloody fugue of self-flagellation, I have to engage in a bit of cognitive gymnastics. How do I cope with rejection?

I remind myself my story is clean, first off. When I submit something out, it's been through several edits and has passed through at least two other pairs of eyes before and I click "send." So I know I'm not being rejected because I'm a sloppy writer, and that is reassuring. If you can't master the art of proper grammar and certain style elements, then you can basically just give up trying to do more than move beyond home plate. I can take heart that I'm not being rejected due to massive incidents of passive voice and a confusion of "their" and "there."

Second, I consider that I may have chosen the wrong publisher for my body of work. Usually when I search for takers, I try and read an excerpt or a sample story if they have one available. Sometimes, I realize I am taking a risk in making a match, and those have so far been the ones to reject me off the bat. This leads me to the most important thing:

My rejections so far seem to lie in a mismatch of writer and publisher. My story doesn't fit their needs or it just wasn't their thing. It's not because the story sucks in and of itself. It's because they're looking for a certain "flavor," and my work doesn't fit that particular bill. If you're craving chocolate, and I stick a spoonful of hot sauce in your mouth, chances are, you're going to spit it out (even if you
usually like hot sauce). They very well may have seen some promise in the story, but because it may have stuck out like a mutilated thumb in their magazine of chick lit, it was tossed.

The fact is, if a relationship of any kind isn't going to work due to the needs of the business person you're attempting to entice, you're going to be rejected. It doesn't matter if you're selling stories or prescription drugs.

Do I wish the editors that have rejected me so far would give me more helpful feedback than a form letter that ultimately says "thanks, but no thanks?" Of course. But I recognize that editors have to wade through massive slush piles in order to meet the deadline and feedback is rare. The letters can seem unforgiving, but I am sure it makes them feel no better to reject you than it does for you to be rejected. 

This is one reason why I typically submit my work to people who accept simultaneous submissions. Having more than one line cast in that unforgiving ocean makes a rejection feel a little less painful. Of course, I haven't yet gotten that "final" rejection. When I do, I'm going to have to start all over again. Or I'm going to have to convince myself that my story isn't nearly as good as I thought.

I'm just not going to think that far ahead...

I know I'm a good writer. I might not be "great," but I think I'm good. I'll never get great unless I keep writing and keep learning. So it's with that sentiment I'll keep plugging ahead.