When I was a kid I went barefoot as often as I could. The soles of my feet were thick and calloused and could take most surfaces. There are two exceptions I remember clearly. The first was on the paved outdoor area at our childhood home. It was in the courtyard formed by the ‘U’ shape of our home and, as such, was protected from the wind. It also collected and focused the sun. In summer, the best time for bare feet, that slate was hot enough to sear a steak. The only reason to step out onto it with bare feet could be explained by forgetfulness and you only did that once.
The other situation, also found in my childhood home, was an outbreak of bindii in the grass. Have you ever stepped on one of nature’s weapons? The lesson was hard-learned by all of us. I rarely venture out onto grass without protection now. The only exception is at Mum and Dad’s. I might try and avoid them but Dad wages war. He will use everything at his disposal to evict any prickle that dares appear within the boundaries of his home. Actually, he kills them. Those things don’t get second chances.
All of which is to say that I’m well-versed in the importance of developing a thick skin.
I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. The reprieve from winter weather did allow me a chance to bare my feet and step onto the sand of a beach and it was glorious. The cold grains and fresh air on my (shockingly white) skin. Also, I sent some work out and pitched a few ideas and received some politely worded but unequivocal rejections.
Ouch.
No matter how grown up we might feel, that first involuntary response to a ‘no’ is emotional. It sounds exactly like you’re not good enough. Is it just me or do you also feel the oomph in your belly when rejection comes your way?
The mature part of me is usually pretty quick to step in with the reasonable response and I’m grateful for the logic and acceptance that cushions the blow. Yes, there are rational psychological models that explain what’s happening clearly and, yes, there are lots of ways to protect yourself from letting that sting turn into anything needing medical attention. The adrenalin, though, it takes a long time to ebb from my soul. If you’ve ever released your feet from a winter of protective socks and boots and stepped straight out onto a bindii you know exactly what I’m talking about. Thickened skin, if not regularly maintained, will soften and return to its natural delicacy. That’s what has happened to me.
In the year I turned fifty I had two goals.
1. Walk 50 hikes
The first of the 50 hikes was on the day of my birthday and day 1 of the glorious Great Ocean Walk was the triumphant fiftieth. The 50 Rejections project ran alongside. I went all in. There’s a spreadsheet to prove it.
The rules were simple. Start sending out my writing to competitions and publishers and any opportunity that came my way and garner 50 rejections. I reported faithfully on both submissions and rejections (and some unexpected success!) in my newsletter (have you subscribed?), the accountability to all of you an important part of keeping going.
To get those rejections I needed to actually do the work and put my writing out there. Really it was measuring effort. It was both an impetus to write AND the development of a thick skin, a worthwhile exercise. It made me write and it made me efficient. I couldn’t spend months fine-tuning a piece or I would run out of time to create anything, let alone submit it anywhere.
Without the project and without the project creating a need to collect rejections, I focused on my books (they’re coming, watch this space!). This year, with two completed manuscripts edited, submissions have begun again. Without the project as armour I forgot to prepare myself for the inevitable rejections so when the first no thanks arrived it caught me unprepared. Rejection stings, my friends, and I’m here to tell you that it does not get easier with practice!
Armour back on, I have a new project for 2026 that will give me direction and there’s a new spreadsheet keeping track of the submissions and the competition entries and the applications and the pitches and a running total of failures rejections. I don’t have a target and I won’t be reporting them to the world but I DO feel satisfaction when I update that data. A rejection, when nestled in amongst all its buddies, takes on a much more manageable size, one that I don’t mind tucking into my portfolio and taking out to look at every now and then.
There’s a second part to the lesson that is possibly more important when it comes to writing and Norm said it best back when I was running around with thick skin on my heels and reading the books I’d one day try to write.
There can be no success if everything I write stays safe in my files. I’ll take the rejection. I’m tough. However, I DON’T feel satisfaction when my heels get tough. Callouses can stay back in the 1980s where they belong. Bring on the pumice!
Belatedly read this – what great food for thought as we head into the second month of 2026!
Just gotta keep on trying!!!