Welcome to my annual blog post where I tell you how many rejections—and acceptances—I got when I submitted my writing to journals and magazines, and where I expound on the lessons gleaned from all this business of being a writer and making oneself vulnerable in this way.
The first thing I noticed after I tallied up the count was that I had received far fewer than my goal of 100 rejections a year —which would have required I make a minimum of 100 submissions. I did not. Not even close. Let’s just say 2023 was a year filled with more important matters, and submitting my work to lit mags was nowhere near top priority. That’s okay with me. Not all years are those kinds of years. I’ll just go ahead and confess here I sent out 49 submissions—nearly fifty, but even that would have only been half. The other reason I sent out fewer is I did not have a ton of work TO send out. With my latest poetry collection publishing this past fall, a lot of my newer (unpublished) work was in those pages.
I might as well cut to the chase: I received 34 rejections and (drum roll, please) 10 acceptances. That’s a pretty good ratio. I was trying to figure out why, and I realized that a lot of my acceptances were from journals that had already published my work before, so I had a better chance of getting my work accepted again because I knew their aesthetic. (Side note: for you math whizzes, if you’re wondering about the other five submissions, I withdrew them.)
One of the acceptances, though, was from a journal that had previously (starting in 2020) rejected my work 29 times. Did you see that number? TWENTY-NINE. You might be thinking, “Are you stupid? Why would you continue to send your work to a journal that has rejected your work that many times over three years?” And I will tell you why: they kept saying “we encourage you to submit again.” And I always tell other writers that if a literary journal tells you that, it means your work is close. Send again! So I took my own advice, which I try to (but don’t always) do.
Here are the life lessons gleaned from sending out my work in 2023:
1. Take some chances. I sent a piece out to a brand new publication. They took a risk on me, and I took a risk on them. Their first issue was beautifully put together, and I was glad, but even if it hadn’t been, I would still be happy to support a new journal. Also, I sent some poems into The New Yorker (again). Why not? If I don’t send them, they will surely never get in there.
2. If you don’t reach a goal, ask yourself why, but don’t beat yourself up for not doing it. This was not my year to send out a ton of work, but I prioritized family needs, and my family is way more important than my writing career and whether any poem of mine makes it out of the nest. Not all goals are created equal. Knowing what is most important matters.
3. Never let others decide how good you are (at anything). I don’t take rejections personally. Editors’ tastes are always subjective. You don’t want my essay or poem? What’s wrong with you??? Oops. I meant to write: That’s fine. Someone else will want that piece of writing, and that’s the journal where the piece is meant to be.
4. Rejoice in each acceptance, however small. The acceptances speak louder to me than the rejections, not because they have bigger mouths but because I listen to them better. (Most of the time.)
5. If you fall off the horse or the wagon or whatever the saying is of your choosing, dust yourself off and get back in the saddle or take the reins again—in other words, don’t give up (if you really want it). I know sending out my work has not been high on the list, but it’s moving up on the list, so I just sent more work out yesterday to a publication I have never submitted to before. We’ll see what happens.
And last: Dream big. Dream bigger.
I’m dreaming bigger in 2024, about everything. Are you?
(Photo credit: Alex Pudov)
