If you are a writer, or any other kind of arts practitioner, no doubt you will have had submissions rejected. Probably many, many submissions. Actors fail auditions; painters have submissions rejected by exhibitions; writers’ work is rejected by journal editors, reviewers, publishers, literary agents etc; and so on. We talk a lot about the pain of being rejected and how to deal with that. Some people compile a ‘shadow CV’ listing their rejections, others print out their rejections and stick them to a wall, and some take a more personal approach. I know one fiction writer who, every time she receives a rejection, buys herself a new piece of good quality underwear. She still doesn’t have a novel published but her knicker drawer is in great shape.

There is plenty of advice online for managing rejection, but I haven’t seen much about the difficulty of turning people’s hard work down. I have rejected journal articles, book proposals, research methods case studies, book chapter proposals, conference submissions, and probably other things as well. I try to do this with compassion and care, though on at least one occasion I cringe to remember (and no doubt more besides) I have not lived up to the high standards I aim for.

As so often with us humans, emotions can get in the way. These may include:

• Disappointment – an intriguing title or premise, and/or a known and respected author, can raise expectations which are not always met.
• Anxiety – for an anonymous author, what if my rejection of their work harms their mental health? For a known author, will my rejection of their work harm my relationship with them? Could they ruin my professional relationship in turn?
• Frustration – this can be generated by a good submission which either doesn’t follow the guidelines, or is not quite as good as a better submission on the same topic, and so has to be rejected. Or by a submission so bad you wonder what the author was thinking.
• Stress – when life feels as if demands are coming at you from all sides, it can be hard to muster the care and compassion needed to produce a kind rejection.

Another thing that can get in the way is time pressure. Care and compassion, for ourselves and for others, takes time. And we need to practice care and compassion for ourselves before we can practice it for others. We need time to process our emotions – our disappointment, anxiety, frustration and stress. Do you allow yourself that time? Or do you eat/drink/smoke/shop your feelings into submission and carry on chasing deadlines?

In today’s super-speedy world, it can be difficult to prioritise ourselves. But if we don’t prioritise ourselves, others are less likely to prioritise us, and we are less likely to prioritise others. This leads to a vicious circle of increasing emotional scarcity which is not healthy for anyone. My Australian colleague Narelle Lemon edits a solution-focused book series on Wellbeing and Self-care in Higher Education which contains a wealth of advice and support for anyone struggling with this, or just wanting to do it better.

So when you’re reviewing something that is going to need rejecting, deal with your own feelings first, because it does take a toll. Give yourself the time and space you need to process those feelings. Then think about how to frame the rejection in a careful, compassionate way. Are there any aspects of the work you can praise? Where improvements are needed, can you offer advice on how to make those improvements? Do you know of any useful references you could recommend? Can you add some encouragement for the future? The answer to one or more of these questions may be a straightforward ‘no’, and that is understandable; I’m certainly not suggesting you should invent praise, advice etc. But these are questions I ask myself when I’m reviewing, and where possible I aim to answer them in my review, even if it is a rejection.

I received a truly delightful rejection recently. I was seeking sponsorship for the International Creative Research Methods Conference, and I thought an organisation I have worked with several times might be interested, so I emailed my main contact. The response came from someone else who I didn’t know. They wrote:

Dear Helen,

Thank you so much for getting in touch. It’s impressive to see the breadth of your contributions to [organisation] over the years: your commitment and dedication to creative research methods is clearly deep-rooted and inspiring.

The International Creative Research Methods Conference sounds like a brilliant and much-needed space for methods enthusiasts! While we’re unfortunately not in a position to offer sponsorship at this time, we really do appreciate that you thought of [organisation] as a potential sponsor.

We wish you every success with next year’s event!

With best wishes, and the very best of luck,

[name]

There is a saying that goes “in a world where you can be anything, be kind” which I think makes a lot of sense. That rejection was so kindly written that it barely even stung. I think it’s exemplary, and from now on I’m going to try to inject more kindness into the rejections I need to make.