Nobody likes being rejected. Yet one of the fundamental truths of life is that we will not be accepted by everyone, every time, and that includes our work. Admittedly, throughout nearly two decades of being a writer, I’ve been rejected more than I’ve been accepted. In recent years I’ve put aside submitting to pursue work with my publisher in the craft of novel writing, but I’ve come to realize that it’s stunted my growth as a writer.

The years I spent submitting weekly (mostly in an effort to gain experience and get some publication credits, as well as harden my tender, little writer heart against rejection) were the years when my writing grew the most. Submitting to whatever contests and journals I could meant I was always pushing outside of my comfort zone. Feminist horror? Sure, why not? SciFi Flash fiction? I can do that. Memoir? Creative nonfiction? Humor? Let’s try it out. Whatever was calling for a submission, I would fumble my way through it, and that led me to explore genres and forms I might not have otherwise attempted. I learned I do have a little dark streak that likes to come out and play.

I learned that a thread of justice and the unsettled walking of moral lines often shadowed my flash fiction. I wrote poetry about lawnmowers and tricycles. I threw paint at the wall in so many colors that my writing house became a mural of unexplored and emerging thought. All of it wouldn’t have happened if I had focused on a ‘rejection’ goal instead of an ‘acceptance’ goal.

Now, in a certain stage of stagnation, I’m returning again to a rejection goal for 2026. Not so lofty as 100 this year (I do have important things at home to still attend to and novels coming out) I am just aiming to submit once a week and garner 50 rejections in the year. I’m looking into playwriting contests, and speculative fiction, memoir and essay. I’ll probably revisit my favorite literary magazines and quirky publication to see what they’re up to. All of it, a practice that I hope you try too. A practice in being brave, in being curious, and in being untethered to the ideas of publication as success.

What can you learn about yourself as a writer? Not just what genres you might unknowingly enjoy, but also in sticking to a schedule, brushing up your cover letters, and learning how to concisely formulate a story (or poem) that feels like your voice and your soul. Knowing that you’ll be rejected. Knowing that not everything (maybe even none of it) will be published or given a place in the public sphere, can you reorganize you brain around the idea that it is the practice itself that’s the prize to be won?

That’s the goal for me. To rediscover the boundlessness of my creativity. To get uncomfortable. To learn things about myself and what the world looks like through my words. I hope you can find something similar that challenges you, humbles you, and eventually strengthens your love of writing.