How to Keep Writing After Rejection (When You Want to Give Up)
Writing After Rejection
I’m going to tell you about the day I realized I was collecting rejections.
Not just getting them, but collecting them.
It started twenty years ago, no more than that! I’ve just realised I first started writing a book way back when I was in my teenage years.
This is what I’d naively do, I’d write the first three chapters of a book, with a vague idea of what was happening after those first three chapters, and then, full of hope and terror, I’d send them off to agents I found in the Writers and Artists Yearbook.
I genuinely believed that if they liked what they read, they’d ask for the full and then it’d be worth writing the rest of the book.
Just writing that seems so ridiculous. Like, where was I coming from? Thinking that it was only worth writing a book if an agent said so? I’m shaking my head at my younger self as I type this to you.
Agents saw right through it. Of course they did. And the rejections started coming.
This was back in the day when it was postal, (yep, I am that old!) So when I heard the fat thump of my first three chapters returned and landing on the doormat, along with a letter of three lines that said nope, it was like a kick in the guts.
I wish I could tell you exactly how many I’ve received over the years.
Too many to count, honestly. Way into double figures, probably higher. After two decades, they all blur together into one giant pile of “no, thank you’s” and “not quite right for our list” and I even got a couple that just wrote on the front cover of my MS in biro with a ‘no thanks.’
And it’s still as bad in the digital world. Checking emails hourly, at least back in the postal days it was a one time thing, now rejection could happen any time throughout the day. And they hurt.
The standard rejections hurt. The personalized ones hurt because you knew you got close. The requests for the full manuscript followed by rejection? Those hurt the most. Because then you knew you got really, really close. They’d invested hours reading your entire book. And they still said no.
They all sting. Every single one.
So if you’re reading this with a fresh rejection email open in another tab, or if you’re seriously considering giving up because you can’t take another “thanks, but no thanks,” I see you. I’ve been you and right at this moment I am you, because I am on sub yet again. I am in the query trenches alongside you and it is BRUTAL.
But here’s what I learned from all those nopes, and all the thuds on the doormats and the depressing emails, and this is why I’m writing this post, it’s not the rejection itself that breaks you. It’s how you carry it.
So let me tell you how to keep writing when everything in you wants to quit.
The Truth About Getting a “Thick Skin” (Spoiler: It’s Rubbish)
Everyone tells you to develop a thick skin. How many times have you heard that? “You need to be less sensitive, you need to let them roll off you like water off a ducks back.” Yeah, me too. None of that works.
Nor do the tales of hugely successful authors like Stephen King whose amazing book, Carrie was rejected 30 times. And Margaret Mitchell’s Gone With the Wind got 38 nos before someone said yes. J.K. Rowling was rejected by 12 publishers before Bloomsbury took a chance on Harry Potter.
Oh, OK, doing that bit of research and reading that back, it does work a bit. I do feel a bit better, how about you? In fact, don’t answer. Let me just tell you some other things that work and how you can keep writing after rejection when your brain is screaming, Maybe I’m not good enough. Maybe this is the universe telling me to stop. Maybe I should just give up.
But before I go on, DO NOT GIVE UP. Don’t stop writing. Do I need to shout it again?
DO NOT STOP WRITING.
What Actually Helps: Control What You Can Control
After years of collecting rejections, writing half books and not finishing them, waiting for validation and getting none and just being a bit rubbish with the whole thing, a dear friend told me something that changed everything.
We were out for coffee and I was going through a list of agents with a finished book, an actual finished book that had taken me the best part of a year to write and was moaning about how long it took to hear back from agents. Why they said no, and didn’t tell me more. Why the whole thing wasn’t working and I started listing all the things that were up in the air and she simply said:
“But that’s all out of your control.”
And she is right.
You can’t control if an agent wakes up in a bad mood because she had a nightmare about the exact same thing your book is about so she rejects it on the spot.
You can’t control if they’ve just signed another writer who writes similar themes to what you’re submitting.
You can’t control their personal taste, their current list, their boss’s opinion, market trends, or a whole multitude of things that go into a rejection.
It’s out of mine and your control.
But how we react to it? How we moved forward? What we do next?
That is in our control.
So let’s stop trying to grow thick skin around this stuff, and instead, focus on what we can actually do something about.
What I Do When a Rejection Lands (The Practical Stuff)
Here’s my system. It’s not glamorous, but it works for me:
1. Read the email – but not straight away
I used to rush to rejection emails immediately. As soon as I saw the subject header and the beginning of the email, and in that preview, you can usually tell if it’s going to be a rejection.
The tone of it, the thank you so much but…and I would open it fast, as I felt it was like ripping off a plaster. Now? I let them sit for a bit. An hour. A day. However long I need to be in the right headspace.
When I’m ready, I read it. I see what it says. If it’s personalized, I look for any useful feedback. If it’s a form letter, I note it and move on.
Then I add it to my spreadsheet.
2. I Keep a Spreadsheet (Stay With Me)
Yes, I track my submissions in a spreadsheet. It sounds clinical, but here’s why it helps:
*It reminds me that this is a process, not a referendum on my worth as a writer.
*When I see that I’ve only submitted to five agents so far, I remember: this isn’t failure. This is statistics. I need to keep going.
*It also means I only submit to a few agents at a time. If I get feedback, I can work on it before sending the next batch. It gives me control over the process, even when I can’t control the outcome.
3. I Don’t Let Myself Spiral
This is the hard one.
Because I’m the type who runs away with my imagination and I overthink A LOT. When I hit “send” on a query, my brain immediately starts writing the success story: They’ll love it. They’ll call me. We’ll have champagne at the book launch. Netflix will be interested. Will I get a cameo? Who will play…..
It’s like buying a lottery ticket. I imagine all the ways I’ll win and then I kind of forget about it, and then the rejection comes in and my brain flips the script: They hated it. They probably laughed. It’s the worst thing they’ve ever read. I should give up.
Both scenarios are fiction.
The truth is somewhere in the middle, usually boring and practical: “This doesn’t fit our current list.” “We’re not taking on new clients right now.” “It’s good, but not quite right for me.”
It’s not personal. It’s business.
I have to remind myself of this constantly. On bad days, I write it on a Post-it note: This isn’t about your writing. This is about fit.
4. I Immediately Start a New Book
This is the most important one.
As soon as I’ve sent a manuscript out into the world, I start something new.
Not because the old book is dead. But because I can’t control what happens to it anymore. It’s out there, doing its thing. All I can do now is wait.
But waiting is torture.
So instead of obsessively refreshing my email, wondering why Agent X hasn’t responded yet, I pour myself into the next story. The next world. The next characters.
By the time a rejection comes for Book A, I’m already deep in Book B. And yes, it still hurts. But it doesn’t destroy me, because I’m already creating something new.
You can’t control if they say yes. But you can control if you keep writing.
The Rejections That Hurt the Most (And Why)
Let me be honest about the different types of rejection, because they’re not all equal.
The Silence
When you never hear back at all. When weeks turn into months and you realize they’re just… not going to respond.
This one makes you feel invisible. Like your work, and by extension, you, don’t even merit a form letter.
The Form Letter
“Thank you for your submission, but unfortunately, this isn’t right for our list at this time.”
Copy. Paste. Send.
It’s better than silence, but only just. Because you’re left wondering, did they even read it? Did they get past the first page? The first paragraph?
The Personalized Rejection
“I really enjoyed your writing, but I’m afraid I didn’t quite connect with the characters.”
These are oddly the worst, because you know you got close. Close enough that they took time to tell you why. Which means you were almost good enough.
Almost.
The Request for Full… Then Rejection
This is the one that breaks you.
They asked for the full manuscript. They read the entire thing. You spent weeks, maybe months, in agonizing hope. You let yourself believe.
And then: “I loved so much about this, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to pass.”
You got really, really close. And it still wasn’t enough.
Here’s what I want you to know: they all hurt, and that’s okay.
You’re allowed to feel disappointed. Angry. Devastated. You’re allowed to cry. To rant to your writing friends. To eat an entire tub of ice cream and watch terrible TV.
Feel the feelings. Don’t pretend they’re not there.
But then, and this is the crucial part, so crucial that I might need to shout it again, DON’T LET THE FEELINGS MAKE THE DECISIONS.
What Rejection Is NOT Saying
When that rejection comes, your brain will try to tell you stories. Let me correct them:
“Your writing is terrible.”
What the rejection actually means: This particular agent/publisher didn’t connect with this particular story at this particular time.
Maybe they’re personally going through something that makes your topic hard to read. Maybe their colleague loves psychological thrillers and they don’t. Maybe they had a headache that day. So many maybes, like the bad dream I talked about earlier, there are SO MANY things and moving part that go into a rejection that you have no idea about.
Research from editors and agents consistently shows that rejection is subjective and often has nothing to do with quality. It’s about fit, timing, and personal taste.
“You should give up.”
What the rejection actually means: This door closed. There are other doors.
One “no” doesn’t mean you’re a terrible writer. A hundred “nos” don’t mean you’re a terrible writer.
You’re a writer because you write. That’s it. That’s the only criteria. If you’re a terrible writer or a brilliant writer, is completely up to the person reading your stuff at the time. That’s it!
You’re creating art, and like art, or a five star Michelin dish at a fancy restaurant, some people will love it and some people won’t. All of that is none of your business. You just have to keep writing.
“You’re a failure.”
What the rejection actually means: You’re brave enough to put your work out there. Most people never even try.
Rejection means you finished something. You polished it. You believed in it enough to send it into the world. You risked something that mattered to you.
That’s not failure. That’s courage. And BRAVO! I am applauding you in between typing to you.
The Question No One Asks: Do You Even Want This Anymore?
Here’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately:
After all these rejections, after finally getting that “yes” and having three novels published… I’m not sure I still want traditional publishing.
I know. That sounds like sour grapes, doesn’t it? Like I’m slightly bitter at putting myself out there and starting again in the query trenches, but this is what I’ve learned. As a Kindle best selling novelist, as someone who’s books have been in magazines, on bookshelves, and all the amazing stuff I dreamed about as that teenager just writing three chapters, even after you get the “yes,” the rejection doesn’t stop.
You may get a tonne of rejections from publishers when your book is on submission. And then, when you do get a yes from the publisher and you get a book deal, you then get nos in the form of structural edits that can sometimes feel like someone ripped your book apart. You might get cover designs you hate. You might get marketing decisions you disagree with. You might get reviews that gut you. You get sales numbers that disappoint. You get rejected from supermarket shelves, bookstores you wanted to be in, writers conferences that you love….the rejections might keep coming. Sorry.
Traditional publishing is brutal. You really need armour around it all.
And I’m a bit tired of wearing armour.
So right now, I’m taking time to think. To just write without worrying about what comes next. To remember why I fell in love with storytelling in the first place.
I’m querying now, but maybe I’ll stop after this very tiny batch. Maybe I won’t.
But what I do know is I’m not going to let the pursuit of traditional publishing/ agent/ or anything else rob me of the joy of writing.
And neither should you.
What I Wish I’d Known Sooner
If I could go back and talk to my younger self, the one sending out those first three chapters, so full of hope, here’s what I’d say:
“Stop overthinking. This changes nothing and reflects nothing on your ability to write or how to create.”
It’s all subjective. All of it.
One agent will say your protagonist isn’t sympathetic enough. Another will say she’s too sympathetic. One will say it’s too slow. Another will say it needs more breathing room.
They’re not wrong. They’re just different people with different tastes reading your work through the lens of their own experiences, preferences, and current needs.
“You need to keep going and keep creating. And if you let one ‘no,’ or a thousand ‘nos,’ stop you, then who is hurting the most?”
YOU. Because you love writing.
So do that. Write.
“The rejections don’t define you. How you respond to them does.”
Are you going to let them make you bitter? Or are you going to let them make you better?
Are you going to quit? Or are you going to keep writing because the writing itself is worth it?
Why I Started The Giddy Hygge Writing Society
When I was sending out my three chapters all those years ago, I remember feeling so very alone. Friends and family would kind of get it, but not really. Not like other writers, and I had writers groups that I was in at the time, but they all fell short of community.
I want a community that can support me and remind me why I write, as all the ‘hustle’ and ‘product’ side to writing is what can kill it if you’re not careful.
That’s why I created The Giddy Hygge Writing Society.
I wanted a space where criticism of your work isn’t tied up in self-worth. Where “not published yet” doesn’t mean “not good enough.” Where we celebrate the actual process, not the outcome.
We want to relish the journey, not the destination.
Yep, I know that it a super corny line, but it’s how I feel about it all. Because the writing is the point. The stories we tell, the characters we create, the worlds we build, that’s where the magic is. That’s what makes us writers.
Not the agent. Not the book deal. Not the Amazon ranking. Not the reviews or the best seller badge.
It’s the writing itself.
You’re Not Alone
Join The Giddy Hygge Writing Society where we gather to remember why we fell in love with storytelling in the first place.
No more tying your self-worth to rejection letters. No more waiting for permission to call yourself a writer. No more feeling like you’re failing because you haven’t “made it” yet.
Just a community that understands.
We write with the seasons, build sensory libraries together, and support each other through both the rejections and the victories. There is a whole library of stuff to help you navigate the brutal side of the publishing world, and there are friends in there that you haven’t yet met.
Limited spots available. Join the waitlist and find out more here
You’re a writer. Not because an agent or publisher or sales figure said so. But because you write.
Now go do it.
And if you’re building a writing practice that feels like sanctuary instead of survival, read: How to Create a Cozy Writing Routine You’ll Actually Stick To
