Dealing With Rejection

Have you seen the comedy It’s Complicated? It’s essentially a love triangle between Meryl Streep’s bakery owner, her ex-husband (Alec Baldwin) and Steve Martin’s architect. In one scene, Martin decides to cool off the romance, but does so transparently, kindly, calmly and sensibly.  “So that’s how grown-ups talk” replies Streep’s 50-something character, looking awed.

It’s a line which has permanently stuck with me, probably because of how rarely I feel like a grown up. That’s a particular challenge whenever I encounter anything that feels like rejection from an editor — be it a declined pitch, or extensive amends requested to one of my pieces. In those instances, with gradually more success, I am diligently trying to react maturely. The main ingredient there is taking a breath, and not just rashly expelling my metaphorical toys from my metaphorical pram. But thinking about the long game and being willing to learn (rather than insecurely stubborn) also helps.

I bring all this up because I sometimes come across PRs responding a bit pettily upon hearing that their suggestion hasn’t made a list. My intention, usually realised, is to reply to everyone who pitches to me and say yay or nay. Most of the nays either don’t answer or send a nice note thanking me for the answer, at least. Every now and then, though, there will be one who argues the toss, making an extra claim for their entry, gets a bit beggy or says something grumpily abrupt.

All of that is something I can understand, as someone prone to ill-advised passion. Because of my being on both sides of this situation, however, I also know that it’s a bad look. And, worse, that it can permanently damage your chances moving forward.

There will be the odd occasion, of course, when I will choose a lesser option. It’s just rare that your initial, dashed-off response telling me that you think I’ve wrongly overlooked your pitch (or something similar) will prompt that. Far better to just bitch about me on that top-secret WhatsApp travel PR group I hear terrifying whispers about. Or to burn a Richard Mellor effigy. Or to just reply tomorrow, with a calmer head.