How Do People Keep Going After Rejections in Academic Publishing?
There is so much that could be said about the academic publishing system right off the top of this letter. However, I think where I want to start is with the emotions.
Academia can, frequently, be a place that people try to characterize as objective and emotionless. I have always been confused how people can celebrate the science of emotions or the science of human behavior, while at the same time trying to frame research & science & academia as a place devoid of emotions or humanity.
It’s important that you’re acknowledging that you are feeling nervous, and I suspect there’s some disappointment and frustration in there as well. I am feeling a lot of sadness and indignation on your behalf for the ways it sounds like your supervisor is not going to be there to support you, and in fact might go ahead and make it worse. I would be curious if there is anyone in your academic network that you might be able to go to for emotional comfort and reassurance? Before (and after) going to talk to your supervisor.
Before getting into practical advice, such as leaning on your academic network for help, I want to stay with the ‘how to’ keep going, from the emotional experience. As you allude to with the question of continuing on, sustainability in academia - particularly around publishing - is a cumulation of choices. It is not a given, it is not easy, it’s not even taught during the PhD.
Here are a few things that have worked for me (as someone with one PhD paper published, one accepted, three desk rejected, and one under review):
Cry and wallow in the immediate. As someone who is a writer, who loves to process through long texts and journal entries, I took the rejections straight to the part of my heart that holds the writer identity. It made me feel like I was a bad writer (particularly when there were comments about how the paper wasn’t “compelling” enough). I have talked to other people in academia who have had a similar experience but instead they take it right to the part of their heart that holds their identity as a researcher, a scientist, a scholar. Regardless of what tender part of you it hits, feel that. Don’t minimize your own hurt (I promise the world will do that enough for you and then some - thinking of your supervisor here) or talk yourself into saying this is a ‘silly’ thing to feel emotions about. It’s okay to let it impact you. I give myself a full 24 hours of wallow time - duvet day, ice cream, comfort movies, crying, hot showers, any food I’m craving, etc. You can find what works for you, but the important part is to feel it at its fullness.
I found this in my supervisor, but it can be anyone who has many more years of experience under their belt, it may be a post-doc or a fellow peer or another professor for you: listen to their attitude toward rejection as part of the process. This was a conversation I tended to have a week or two or even longer after getting the rejection, when I felt a bit of distance from the intensity of my reaction to the news. My supervisor always acknowledged that it was not an enjoyable experience, having a paper rejected, but then moved into deciding where to submit to next and encouraged me to try again. And while I often knew I wasn’t ready yet to put myself up for another rejection, I found the almost nonchalance of a long time academic to be a nice perspective to have. It reminded me that what feels personal is actually just part of a system where three people read my paper and decide if they want to put it behind a paywall for other people to access. The sort of absurdity of that, with the perspective that it happens over and over to even the most well known & revered folks in your field, helped me lower the stakes in my own head from what was built up from the emotions above.
When the life and death of it all fades, I have always found it helpful to return to the paper in the comfiest or most beautiful setting I can have. I revisit the paper and the comments and decide if it’s helpful criticism or feedback to incorporate. I’ve been known to write back in the margins to reviewers comments just saying “no” or “I don’t want to” or “we don’t have the same values toward accessibility in academia” or “you’re wrong” (not that I sent them, just that I also value the part of me that needs to be petty or annoyed or disagreeable so I give that part space - I’d encourage you to make that a part of your process too however it comes up)! Then I take anything useful and map out how to include those changes, or make the changes then and there. I have found part of the sustainability of publishing in academia is learning how, when, why, and by whom I take feedback or constructive comments. That can only truly be done once I’ve allowed myself to feel the feelings of the paper rejection and come back to the paper renewed with appreciation for it again. Sort of like the stages of grief, I think this step is only helpful when the urgency of the hurt isn’t burning.
I don’t want to end this letter without acknowledging with you that Y E S people submit papers over and over again. Sometimes without making any changes to the paper at all, it’s just right onto the next. I have seen a professor’s website that literally has a section called “papers that never got published and I don’t understand why” where they uploaded the papers they worked hard on and don’t know why they didn’t get peer reviewed. So rejections happen! All the time, over and over. (I don’t say this to minimize the emotional response because I have not found it to get any easier as the process goes on, just to normalize I guess that it will continue to happen).
My practical advice while publishing is to do things like paper swaps within your academic network (as in people you trust and are knowledgeable in your field or adjacent, or even people you know to ask really good questions). You go through their paper and they go through yours - this can help prior to submission to address some things that could come up during the peer review process. I would also suggest reaching out to anyone you know who has submitted to a certain journal before as they may be able to provide insights on past reviewer comments or formatting preferences.
And remember, writing for publication is only ONE aspect of being a researcher / scientist / academic. It is a skill set that takes time, energy, and practice. Even then, there is no guarantee that your reviewers are particularly suited to the paper you’ve submitted (as it’s a volunteer system and not everyone has the spare capacity to do it). So there is only ever so much of being accepted and published that is in your control.
It is normal and okay and important that the experience of academic publishing has an emotional impact on you, because you’re a human. A process for navigating this system is something to be developed; be gentle with yourself as you figure it out.
I believe in you!
Til next Sunday,
Dr. Sydney Conroy
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