Rejection Infection Part 1:
Those Idiots! Why Do They Keep Rejecting My Stories?
by Wulf Moon
"Dear Sir, I have just read your rejection letter and I must say it is not up to the standard I have come to expect."
--Cartoon caption by Lindsay Foyle
I've been writing for nearly half a century since my first professional sale. I've been in a number of writing groups over the years and lead my own group as well. I've watched writers buckle down and do the work and, in time, rise to success. But I've also seen a negative pattern with some as they send their stories out and the rejections keep coming in.
Being discouraged by rejections is normal. Rejection infection isn't.
You can tell the infection might be showing symptoms when a writer gets their first "no" and they voice a familiar question: "I worked hard. I thought this was good. Why did they reject my story?" They're disappointed, coughing out the hurt, ready to try again. It's a normal response. Just a sniffle.
But when the rejections pile up, the symptoms can spread to Stage 2. The tone sharpens. The questions get darker. "I've seen the stories they publish. Don't they know good writing? Are the editors blind?" And suddenly it's no longer about the story—it's about alleged unfairness, justification, and faultfinding.
If the writer is new to the group or they're a new writer, we might say we're sorry and offer consoling words. Rejection stings for all of us, but it's especially hard on those just starting out. We get it. That's a normal cough, a minor head cold: clear your throat, take your medicine, learn what you can, and go back at it again.
But some don't get better. The infection spreads as more rejections arrive and that writer's complaints become increasingly strident. Stage 3: "Those idiots! This is better than anything I've seen them publish. Why do they keep rejecting my stories?"
That's a sign of deeper infection. True, we expect to get better the more time we've spent practicing a skill. It can be confusing when we feel we're doing all the necessary things to advance, and yet it appears others are moving up the line and we're stuck behind, staring at their butts. Doubts roll in. Why aren't we moving up? How come that guy just got the nice sale, that new agent, that great publisher? We're working just as hard as them!
And if we aren't careful, we can become plagued with rejection infection. Our attitude can sour and we could become bitter. Jealousy kicks in. We could use our precious words to tear down the successful efforts of others instead of building them up. We could blame those "stupid editors" who can't discern between great writing and a crumpled grocery list. As the fever consumes us, we could even become delusional, loudly and proudly telling others our writing isn't selling because these "professionals" aren't able to see our genius. That's when rejection infection moves to Stage 4: it spreads throughout the writer like sepsis, and their negativity not only drives the people that could have helped them away, it can become catastrophic--they quit writing altogether.
Game over.
Stage 4 is rare, but I've seen what happens if the Stage 4 infected writer doesn't get help and remains stewing in the group. The infection becomes an outbreak.
But why let rejection make us sick? Why allow it to take us out? How can we initiate preventative measures so that scratchy cough doesn't advance through the stages to Stage 4 illness and kill our writing joy?
Let's consider the realities of why our stories might be getting rejected, how we can inoculate ourselves by knowledge and building coping skills, and how we can improve our writing health so that we can stay the course and make those healthy sales.
You Are Not Alone
When rejection hits, it can feel personal, but it rarely is. Writers who seek to move from hobby to professional are playing the long game: they treat writing like a marathon, not a sprint. They study what works, revise what doesn't, and keep training their craft the way athletes do. They understand that "no" is part of the process, not a verdict on their talent or a sign they should quit. They're neither delusional nor self-entitled--they know nothing worth fighting for ever comes easy. You don't get a trophy by sitting on your laurels; you earn it by showing up again and again in spite of the pain, in spite of the fear.
Failure is not a failure if you look at it as an attempt at growth and an opportunity to build resilience. JK Rowling stated in a 2008 Harvard commencement address: "It is impossible to live without failing at something, unless you live so cautiously that you might as well not have lived at all--in which case, you fail by default."
Let's face it. We know that until we get better at a task, we're going to have some wonky failures. That's how learning works. More failures at the start, more successes as we persevere and improve our skills. When I started making glass beads under a torch, my only instructor was a cheap ten-buck video I bought to learn basic techniques. I fired up the torch, didn't set myself on fire, and I'm happy to say the very first bead I made, turning melted glass on a mandrel under flame, was perfectly spherical--very hard to do first time out; it normally takes thirty to fifty tries. Yay! I had studied what the pro did and had enough natural talent that I beat the odds. My pro glassmaking career would be a cinch!
But the next one looked like a wobbly tire. So did the next. Some were full of air bubbles. Others turned brown, burnt by holding the mandrel too close to the flame and not spinning the glass fast enough. It took time and practice to figure out on my own all of the parameters you have to maintain during the creation of a bead to make it perfect--something you can take to market and sell to discerning jewelry makers' eyes. Even when I reached a level of mastery over the necessary skills, some still turned out mishappen. We cannot expect everything we create to sell, especially in our apprenticeship stage. (Although I must confess I labeled these supposed rejects Wonky Beads and many sold because buyers didn't view them as rejects; they saw them as unique creations. There's a lesson here, but I'll save it for another article.)
Rejection--in fact, stacks of rejections--is par for the course as we start out. As reported by the Literary Hub, the book Chicken Soup for the Soul received 144 rejections. Finally published, it became a best-seller and then a series that's now a household name. Its co-author Jack Canfield wrote on his blog: "If we had given up after 100 publishers, I likely would not be where I am now. I encourage you to reject rejection. If someone says no, just say NEXT!"
Here's another rejected name you undoubtedly know now. Stephen King. His novel Carrie received thirty rejections from publishers until Bill Thompson at Doubleday finally sent this telegram:
"CONGRATULATIONS. CARRIE OFFICIALLY A DOUBLEDAY BOOK. IS $2500 ADVANCE OKAY? THE FUTURE LIES AHEAD. LOVE, BILL."
But my favorite rejection tale happens to be my most beloved science fiction novel: Dune. Frank Herbert stated in an ET interview in 1984 that the novel received twenty-two rejections. He had worked his way through every publisher that might consider it. He finally sold it to Chilton Books by a quirk of fate--yeah, the auto repair manual company.
If these great writers had to deal with great rejection before finally gaining a foothold and selling their work, why should we expect it to be different for us? The point is they did the work, they found ways to cope with the rejection, and they never gave up on their stories nor their dreams. Perseverance over time can yield success. Quitting never does.
And here's a fact about Dune you may not have known. The reason we know Dune as a classic science fiction ecology novel today? That Chilton editor tracked Herbert down because he'd read Herbert's serialized versions (Dune World and The Prophet of Dune) in Analog magazine between 1963 and 1964. The magazine version is what helped the novel get discovered and finally published! So never underestimate what sales to respected magazines, anthologies, and contests can do for your visibility when you're ready to launch your novelist career.
Mirror, Mirror: Who's the Fairest of Them All?
So why do good stories, even great stories, get rejected? I hear some saying, "Doesn't this prove my point that all editors are idiots? They can't see a good story even when it bites them on their upturned noses!" Okay, hold your horses. Reign that back. There are plenty of reasons editors may reject a perfectly good story, and it's helpful to review a few of them.
First, it may be a marvelous story, but the editor knows it doesn't match what their brand is recognized for publishing. Your grimdark fantasy will be an unlikely fit for a noblebright or positive-fiction publisher. Your open-door steamy romance will not fare well at Highlights Magazine. That epic poem you wrote that rivals the 416 pages of The Odyssey will not sell to Flash Fiction Magazine. Normally, reading a publication's guidelines or open call theme (or better yet, subscribing and studying back issues) will spare you some obvious rejections, but as they say, stuff happens in the rush to keep stories out to market.
A less obvious reason for rejection of a perfectly good story is that the publication has already bought three mermaids riding unicorns stories, and even though yours is now the sexiest of the lot, others beat you to the punch, and the editor believes if they publish one more, they'll have to change their publication's name to Mermaids Riding Unicorns. The other writers get the contract and paycheck; you get the glitter-sprinkled rejection that says, "Loved your story, but it's not the right fit for us. Please try us again." And then you go bonkers when you see the next issue come out and it's filled with mermaids riding unicorn stories, and they really are not as good as yours.
At least now you know if you've been playing the dangerous game of rejectomancy.
At other times it can be a matter of insufficient space for your story or novel. An editor or publisher could have already purchased many stories, and they're now at the limit of what they can fit into their magazine, or what they can place in their inventory of allotted new book titles.
Pro tips:
1. Write shorter, and they might still squeeze you in.
2. Submit early, and it's less likely they'll have already made their choices.
On to current trends. Book publishers and editors are always trying to forecast what's hot, what's not. They are keenly aware of current trends that can chart a new wave of genre and subgenre popularity. However, staring into a murky crystal ball to a future at least ten months out before they can bring a book to market can cause publishers to make more than a few wrong calls. Your adult romantasy may indeed be greater than Fourth Wing (still hot in 2026), but a publisher may fear the market is now saturated with steamy dragon rider love stories and that the trend will soon change to mermaids riding sparkly unicorns. Mermantasy is the future, and they're focused on making that future splash!
Finally, there is personal taste. You have personal tastes and biases. I have personal tastes and biases. So do editors. There are undoubtedly books you will not touch and stories you will not read, even though they are well written or bestsellers. Editors are--gasp!--human, and they have personal tastes just like you. So do their first readers, who are normally less experienced than the editors. You served them ghost pepper salsa; they enjoy humble hummus. It's a matter of taste, and your dish is too darn spicy. For them. The next publisher may love ghost pepper salsa … with a glass of milk on the side.
One caveat before some of you shove ghost peppers down my throat. While merit should be the basis for judging stories, it is a fact that some publications have blatant biases involving racial, gender, sexual orientation, and/or political agendas--they often post them outright in their guidelines. As they say, it's a free country, and it's their publication. If you don't like their agenda, save yourself some grief and don't send them your story. How easy is that?
I know many writers tout sending your stories to the highest-paying markets and working your way down as they come back. Me? I'd much rather aim my stories toward markets that reflect my ideals and would make me proud to showcase my work in their pages. I seek respected markets that are the best fit for my story and my ideals. Like bringing more goodness into the world. Like making people smile. Like touching hearts and giving people hope.
Knowing your arrows and aiming them toward their proper target is the best way to hit the bullseye.
Again, there are many reasons good stories get rejected. If you get a personal rejection, take heart! Editors do not have time to write them, so when they do, know that you were close to hitting their bullseye, or they believe you have promise and could hit it in the future. They don't always tell you the reason, but that's okay. You made a good impression. And you kept that good impression because you didn't write back calling them a bozo, telling them how stupid they were to reject your bestseller that would have made them millions.
Well done!
Consider Your Level
Now for some honest reality. Are you sitting down? Good. The truth can also be that our story was good, but it wasn't good enough. This is hard for writers to recognize, especially starting out. Part of this is caused by all the enabling and coddling going on in our social media and educational systems. I see lots of it, and if you're honest, you see it, too. It's hard to scroll through my news feed without seeing posts that say, "You wrote, so you're a writer. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."
That's true. You're a writer. And a kid that picks up a crayon and scratches out a stick figure of mommy and daddy is an artist. But if that child hopes to have their work displayed on something besides the family refrigerator, they're going to need to advance. They're going to need to practice. They'll likely need classes, even some art school education, and more years of practice before their work reaches the level of being displayed in an art gallery or one day being featured in the Met. A discriminating gallery owner will know what buying trends are, and what will likely be considered professional as defined by buyers willing to purchase that art and take it home to display. Editors and publishers of professional publications are no different. They are in the business of publishing professionally written stories, and they have many to choose from.
Most of them come from experienced writers who have already sold them stories.
If you're as yet an unknown writer, your story does not have to equal those stories; it has to--gulp!--outshine those stories. Some of them by writers with long pedigrees who have been practicing their craft for decades and have a proven track record. Famous bestselling writers come with huge followings, and publishers know if they buy even a subpar story from them, sales will go up. They are bona fide. A newer writer, as yet, is not.
This can be a hard fact to swallow. The higher we aim, the harder it will be to sell our work to that publication because the competition is fierce. Most submission periods at professional literary magazines receive thousands of submissions during each reading period, some exceeding 3,000 submissions. In the professional speculative fiction magazines, most have acceptance rates hovering at 2%. I've seen one at 0.29%. Selling to prestigious publications can be challenging because not only are big fish circling those waters, multitudes of other fish are as well. The sheer volume can cause conditions where your story may not get the attention it deserves.
Take courage! There are many ways to improve your chances and make that shiny sale. Sunlight is the most effective therapy against rejection infection! So is inoculation! So roll up that sleeve and get your potent shot in the arm … in the upcoming article: "Rejection Infection Part 2."
Good health to you!
