Dealing With Rejection

Heather Boerneris addressing hte topic of rejection on her blog. That got me thinking about the topic and sending her a reply to a LInkedIn message she had sent out. But I thought I'd also look at the topic here.

Rejection is a constant companion for the self-employed. In fact, ask a group of experienced freelancers about the most important qualities for success, and not getting bogged down by rejection is one of the answers you'll inevitably get. The reason is that success in freelance writing comes from reducing the inevitable amount of rejection you'll get.

It's easy enough to say, "Develop a thick skin," but that doesn't explain why it is necessary. If you've been writing for any period of time, imagine what would happen if everyone said yes to everything you proposed. You'd drown in work and have no life. Getting work depends on hitting the right person in the right company at the right time with the right idea and right background to carry it out. That's a lot of right. The odds of that happening each and every time you send out a letter of introduction or query - given how much is completely out of your control - is unrealistic.

To get down from rejection has three parts. One is normal disappointment. I'd really like to know that the work and money were coming in, but they're not, so I have to move on to the next prospect.

Another part is not so normal, because it involves taking rejection as personal failure when you don’t accomplish what literally cannot be done. One is when the freelancer takes everything personally. Do you agree with your significant other on everything? Probably not, and you’re far less close to your clients, so why expect that much acceptance? You may be involved in your business, but you are not the same as your business. Focus on your decisions and the efforts you make, not on others.

The third problem is when you view each rejection as a threat. It’s not. Rejection works two ways, and you constantly reject clients – by not pitching them, by turning down projects that don’t make sense for you, by negotiating different terms than they originally wanted. It’s a game of numbers, and you need to make enough efforts so that, on the whole, the numbers break your way.

There is enough heartache in the world; why needlessly manufacture more for yourself? Clients aren’t family, friends, or lovers. They’re people who pay you to do something. Keep some distance and save the bitter rejection tears for those times that they are really warranted.

Dealing with "Harsh" Rejection

Gawker has a tale of a writer who received what she thought was an overly harsh rejection from a Village Voice editor. Here's the original note:

I'd shoot myself before I had anything like Julia Allison in this paper. What you're pitching sounds like the 256th version of Sex in the City, and that's so played out. I'm satisfied with the two sex columns I have now, and I really don't have room for additional columns at the moment. But thanks for thinking of us.

What did the writer do? Send it on to someone who was likely to publish it. Any doubts as to whether this will get back to the editor? If so, then I also have a bridge I'm trying to peddle.

From what I've seen in a thread on Freelance Success, some writers think the editor was trying to be funny, and some agree that he was being nasty. My take is that it shouldn't matter. If you don't like the way an editor works, then don't work with the editor. This tactic has not only burned the bridge with that editor, but anyone that editor knows. Such things don't stay secret.

but even more importantly, whether you like the tone of the editor's response or not, it was a gold mine for marketing. Suddenly you've got a grasp of the editor's sensibilities and tastes, great market info (no room for more columns, meaning that to sell one you'd have to find supplant the weakest column there, which is a tough sell), and a bit more understanding of editorial strategy than when you started. This is a prime case for not taking things personally and, instead, being thankful that someone let his guard down and helped you by accidentally disclosing information that you couldn't buy.

Ignoring Being Ignored

When clients don’t respond, don’t take it personally

You’ve read the writers guidelines or asked how the company prefers to deal with writers. After creating a pitch so perfect that the organization should use it as a model of what to do, you send it off. A week passes, then two, then a month, three, and … nothing. Not a single blessed word.

Every writer knows what goes through you at such a moment: rage, indignation, depression, self-pity, and the certain knowledge that you are a victim of cruel indifference. You want to pick up the phone and scream or dash off a nasty message. How dare they ignore you! After the time you spent writing the query or introductory letter. You’ve spent time and possibly even time that won’t come back, and can’t even get the courtesy of a reply.

Go ahead and let that howling inner voice shout – for about 30 seconds. And then … just … get … over … it. This is business.

Any time you deal with people as a writer (or an accountant or plumber or electrician, for that matter), you learn that the world is full of callous and indifferent people. Not all are like that, but many are. This happens to absolutely every writer, even big names. But one of the biggest differences I see between amateurs and true pros is the ability to separate writing from business.

Yes, you’re right. Common courtesy would suggest that at least a brief answer was in order. Like its cousin, common sense, courteousness is hardly customary. More often than not you’ll assume that clients must have astronomical star quality, because they are such black holes.

Nevertheless, it’s business. That means it isn’t and can’t be personal. This is a systematic attempt for you to gain some things that you want, not a touchstone for your ego. To keep it properly impersonal, set the right attitude. No matter how rude someone is, you must brush it off. When you think of it, to set your self value on the reaction of people you’ve never met is pretty silly.

More crucially, being ignored is unimportant. Are you writing to be famous and admired? (There are more efficient ways of achieving this.) Or do you wish to write things of worth that might help people? This isn’t a rhetorical question. Getting better known certainly means a greater chance of getting work published, but even then it’s using notoriety as a means to an end, and not the end itself. When the ego predominates, the quality of the word receeds.

To some degree, both answers are in each of us, and in one situation after another we all must choose between them, because at their essence they are incompatible. If you pick the former, then nothing really will make you happy. Trying to make art serve you never works and ultimately is always a disappointment.

On the other hand, if you pick the latter, then your duty is to your work and not your bruised feelings. The more of your energy you pour into anger, the less you have to be productive. To let yourself slide off into fury and stay there is not to justifiably react to an insult, but to actively cause harm to yourself and that work, which should be greater than you.

You best do justice to the higher cause of what you try to achieve by treating such problems as business – ironic, as creative people widely distain business as a base activity. After you’ve contacted a client, put on your business hat and don’t react. Use your imagination to remove the indignation. Unfeeling and uncaring oafs might populate a given organization – or some overwhelmed staff person could have lost your letter. Someone might have accidentally dropped your query into the “already answered” pile. People might be massively overworked and embarrassed. Emails might be going into a spam filter. (This is far more common than you might think.) Lash out and your action might be unfair and burn a bridge in a world that is small, and where people talk.

Even when – not if – someone clearly ignores you, gnash your teeth briefly if you must, and then forget it. Consider the value of the information you now have. A company that would treat writers as unworthy of a response is unlikely to treat you with respect should someone there ask you to take an assignment. Anyway, you can still get your answer. Wait the amount of time the organization requests, give it a couple of more weeks, and then contact it and politely and pleasantly ask where things are. If the representatives say they need more time, be gracious and agree – and ask when you should contact them again. Being pleasant and upbeat, you put them into a position of feeling an obligation of courtesy, and being persistent, they cannot hide.

Will you still feel irritated from time to time? Of course; you’re human. But as you practice this approach, you’ll find that it bothers you less each occasion, and by taking your ego out of the way, you can make better decisions of how to move your plays forward.