From Edie: Learn how to start writing again after rejection, failure, or disappointment with practical steps to rebuild confidence, find courage, and move forward.
How to Start Writing Again After Rejection, Failure, or Disappointment
by Edie Melson @EdieMelson
Writing takes courage.
We don't always talk about that part of this business. We talk about learning the craft, finding an agent, building a platform, marketing our books, and meeting deadlines.
But underneath all those things is courage.
Every time we send our words out into the world, we're risking something. We've taken thoughts and stories that lived safely inside us and put them where someone else gets to decide what they think about them.
Sometimes they love what we've written. Sometimes they don't. And sometimes what happens next hurts. The agent says no. The editor loves the proposal—but the publishing board doesn't. The contract we thought was coming never arrives. The book releases to silence. The contest scores aren't what we expected. A critique partner points out a fatal flaw in a manuscript we've spent two years writing.
Or perhaps life intervenes and we step away from writing, only to discover that coming back is much harder than leaving.
Writing disappointment comes in a thousand different forms. But sooner or later, every writer faces the same question:
How do I start again?
I've had to answer that question more than once during my writing career, and I've learned that starting again isn't about pretending the disappointment didn't hurt. It's about refusing to let the hurt have the final word.
1. Give Yourself Permission to Be Disappointed
We writers are very good at trying to talk ourselves out of disappointment.
- It's okay.
- It wasn't meant to be.
- God has something better.
- It's just part of publishing.
- I shouldn't be upset.
Sometimes all of those things may be true.
But they don't mean we aren't disappointed.
When we've prayed over an opportunity, worked hard, and hoped for a particular outcome, losing that opportunity hurts. We don't have to pretend otherwise. We need to give ourselves a little time to grieve what didn't happen.
Eat some chocolate.
Call a trusted writing friend.
Take a walk.
Cry if you need to.
Talk to God about it—and don't clean up the conversation first. He already knows we're upset.
But here's the important part.
Visit disappointment. Don't move in.
2. Separate What Happened from What You're Telling Yourself Happened
This is a big one for me. Something disappointing happens, and almost immediately our brains begin adding commentary.
The editor rejected my manuscript becomes:
I'm not a good writer.
Poor book sales become:
Nobody wants to read what I write.
An agent passes on a proposal and suddenly we're thinking:
I'll never get published.
Those aren't facts. At best, they’re interpretations, at worst, they’re outright lies. And if we’re not careful, these are the conclusions we can draw when we're hurt.
We need to separate the actual event from the story we're telling ourselves about that event. These things may be disappointing, but none of them has the authority to define our future. Don't give one disappointment more power than it deserves.
3. Look for the Lesson—but Not Too Soon
I believe almost every disappointment can teach us something. But I've also learned that trying to extract a lesson while I'm still bleeding isn't particularly helpful. First—before I evaluate—recover.
- Once some of the emotion has settled, we can come back and ask good questions.
- What, if any, was there feedback I need to consider?
- Is there something I need to learn? Did I rush this manuscript?
- Was I pursuing an opportunity that really wasn't a good fit?
- Do I need more education?
- Do I need to change direction?
- Or did I simply encounter one of those disappointments that comes with being in this industry?
Not every rejection means something is wrong. Sometimes (more often than we realize) a good manuscript gets rejected. Sometimes excellent writers have disappointing sales. Sometimes publishing decisions have far more to do with market conditions, budgets, timing, or a publisher's list than with the quality of our work. We need to earn what we can, and then leave the rest behind.
4. Go Back to Something Small
After a big writing disappointment, I've discovered one of the worst things I can do is jump headfirst into something big. I don't need to immediately write another book. I just need to write something.
One paragraph.
A journal entry.
A devotion.
A blog post.
A scene that may never appear in a manuscript.
Five hundred words nobody else will ever read.
The goal isn't productivity. The goal is reconnecting with words.
Disappointment has a way of making us afraid of the page. We begin associating writing with evaluation, rejection, sales numbers, reviews, contracts, and other people's opinions. Sometimes we need to remember what it felt like when writing was simply writing. Before anybody else got a vote.
5. Remember Why You Started
There was a time when most of us didn't know enough about publishing to be discouraged by it. We didn't know about sales numbers. We didn't understand Amazon rankings. We weren't thinking about proposals, platforms, algorithms, contracts, or marketing plans. We just wanted to write. Something inside us needed to come out in words.
For many of us, writing also grew out of a sense of calling. We believed God had given us stories, experiences, insights, or encouragement to share. Publishing may be part of that calling. But publishing isn't the calling. Writing is.
That's an important distinction when disappointment comes. A publisher can say no to a manuscript. An agent can say no to representation. Readers can choose not to buy a book. But none of those people gets to decide whether God called us to write. That's a conversation between us and Him.
6. Don't Make Permanent Decisions During Temporary Pain
I've seen writers walk away after a painful rejection. There have been times when I've wanted to do that myself. I threaten to be done or never submit again. In the midst of my pain I’ve vowed to never attend another conference or write another book.
The emotions that come with disappointment make dramatic decisions feel reasonable. I’ve learned to give myself some time before making them.
There's nothing wrong with changing direction. Sometimes we need to put a manuscript away. Sometimes we need to change genres, pursue a different publishing path, take a break, or even reevaluate where writing fits in our lives.
It’s important to make those decisions from a place of clarity—not pain.
7. Borrow Someone Else's Belief for a Little While
One of the greatest gifts in my writing life has been other writers. We need people who understand this strange business. Writing friends who know why an email from an editor can make our heart race and who understand why fictional characters keep us awake. Friends who know that a rejection can hurt even when we know rejection is part of the business. And sometimes we need people who believe in us when our own belief is running low. Find those people—and nurture those connections.
Not the ones who tell us everything we write is brilliant. We don't need cheerleaders who refuse to tell us the truth. We need truth-tellers who also remind us who we are. There have been times when I couldn't see the next step clearly, and someone else could. That's one reason writing community matters so much.
8. Take the Next Brave Step
Eventually, starting again requires action. Not a giant leap, just a single step can help us start again. Sometimes the step is tiny—just opening the manuscript file. It could be writing the first sentence, or sending another the query.
The important thing is to make the appointment.
Register for the conference.
Begin the proposal.
Submit the article.
Start the next book.
Don’t judge the size of the step. Sometimes clicking SEND after a painful rejection is one of the bravest things a writer can do.
Starting Again Doesn't Mean Starting Over
This may be the most important thing I've learned about writing disappointment. When we begin again, we're not starting from zero. We're bringing everything we've learned with us. We still have every word we've written and every class we've taken. And even though it’s hard, we still carry every mistake we've made and rejection we’ve survived. Most of all, we still have every lesson God has taught us along the way.
So, if you're sitting in the aftermath of a writing disappointment today, don't worry about getting your entire career moving again. Just find the next step and then take it. The blank page is still there. The words are still in your heart. And so is the reason you began this crazy writing journey in the first place.
Starting again doesn't mean we forget what happened. It only requires us to believe what happened isn't the end of the story.
Now it's your turn. Have you ever had to start again after a writing disappointment? What helped you find the courage to return to the page?
Don’t forget to join the conversation!
Blessings,
Edie
TWEETABLE
She and husband Kirk have been married 44+ years with three grown sons and four grandchildren. They live in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains and can often be found with their big black dog hiking the mountains. Connect with her at www.EdieMelson.com and through social media.
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