Creative & artistic rejection
When the work is personal, a rejection can feel like a rejection of you. For working artists, getting turned down is not the exception, it is most of the job.
- ~60rejections Kathryn Stockett has said The Help received before it became a bestseller
Stockett (reported in More magazine) 2009
ArticleKathryn Stockett on the path to publishing The Help
Kathryn Stockett has said her novel The Help was rejected about 60 times before it was published and became a bestseller.
- 144times the first Chicken Soup for the Soul was reportedly turned down before publication
Canfield & Hansen (reported) 1993
ArticleChicken Soup for the Soul publishing history
The first Chicken Soup for the Soul book was reportedly turned down 144 times before a publisher took it on.
- 100rejections a year that writer Kim Liao suggests aiming for, on purpose
Liao 2016
ArticleWhy You Should Aim for 100 Rejections a Year
Writer Kim Liao reframes rejection as a goal: aiming for 100 rejections a year means you are submitting your work often enough that some yeses become likely.
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Why creative rejection cuts deep
When you make something, you put a piece of yourself into it, so a “no” can feel less like “this didn’t fit our list” and more like “you are not good enough.” That reaction is human. But it quietly swaps two different things: a decision about one piece of work, and a judgment about you.
Rejection is the structure, not the exception
For working artists, rejection is not a sign something has gone wrong. It is the ordinary texture of the job. Top literary journals accept roughly 1 to 3% of what they receive, which means most strong submissions are turned down simply because there are far more good pieces than slots.
The history of beloved work makes the point better than any pep talk:
- Kathryn Stockett has said The Help was rejected about 60 times before it sold and became a bestseller.
- The first Chicken Soup for the Soul was reportedly turned down 144 times.
- Madeleine L’Engle’s A Wrinkle in Time was rejected around 26 times, then won the Newbery Medal.
- Stephen King threw the early manuscript of Carrie in the trash in discouragement, and his wife fished it back out.
A note on honesty, because the internet loves a tidy rejection legend: some popular numbers are exaggerated or invented. We have skipped the ones we could not stand behind. Figures you have probably seen for J.K. Rowling, Dr. Seuss, or Dune are best treated as “reportedly,” not verified counts.
The reframe that actually works
Writer Kim Liao suggests a deceptively powerful goal: aim for 100 rejections a year. It flips the scoreboard. Instead of dreading no’s, you collect them, because hitting that number means you are submitting often enough that some yeses are almost inevitable. Rejection becomes evidence you are doing the work, not evidence you should stop.
What helps
- Make the unit your output, not any single submission. One pass is a coin flip. Your body of work is the whole run.
- Send it back out quickly. Momentum shrinks a rejection faster than analysis does.
- Be as kind to yourself as you’d be to a fellow artist. People who meet setbacks with self-compassion stay less defensive and recover faster, which keeps you making things.
The “no” is about fit and odds. The work is still yours, and it is still worth sending.
What can help
Count rejections as proof you're in the game
Writer Kim Liao reframes rejection as a target, aim for 100 a year. If you collect that many no's, you are submitting often enough that yeses become likely.
Separate the work from your worth
A "pass" is one editor or gatekeeper's read of fit for one slot at one moment. It is information about a match, not a verdict on your talent or your value.
Remember the math is structural
Top literary journals accept only 1 to 3% of submissions. Most good work gets rejected most of the time, simply because there are far more worthy pieces than spots.
Keep a "rejection then yes" file
Famous books were rejected dozens of times before they landed. Saved examples are a quiet reminder that a no is rarely the final word on a piece.
Grieve, then resubmit
Let yourself feel the sting, naming it helps, then send the piece somewhere new. The fastest way to make a rejection mean less is to put the work back in motion.