Episode 9: Why I Started Collecting Rejections (And You Should Too)

Three months ago, I started keeping a "rejection collection."

Not because I'm a masochist, but because I noticed something weird: the people I admired most had way more rejections than successes. They just didn't talk about them as much.

My English teacher mentioned getting rejected from twelve literary magazines before her first story was published. A senior I knew got waitlisted or rejected from eight colleges before finding his perfect fit. Even my favorite YouTuber talked about how his first fifty videos got basically no views.

These weren't failure stories – they were success stories that just so happened to include a lot of nos along the way. That's when I realized I'd been thinking about rejection completely wrong. Instead of seeing it as evidence that I wasn't good enough, I started seeing it as proof that I was trying things worth attempting. They were a sign of growth.

The Rejection Paradox

Here's the counterintuitive truth I discovered: the more rejections you collect, the more likely you are to eventually succeed at something meaningful. I mean, the statistics show, most entrepreneurs don’t just become successful overnight. Many experience a bunch of bankruptcies and hardships along the way.

Let’s think about it mathematically. If you only apply to things you're guaranteed to get, you're not aiming high enough. Safe choices rarely lead to interesting outcomes.

But if you're attempting things that matter – competitive programs, ambitious projects, meaningful opportunities – rejections become inevitable. The question isn't whether you'll face rejection, but whether you'll let it stop you from trying again.

I used to think rejection was the opposite of success. Now I see it as a prerequisite for success.

What Seneca Understood About Setbacks

Seneca, the Roman Stoic, had an interesting relationship with failure. He lost his fortune, got exiled from Rome, and eventually faced political execution. Not exactly a smooth career trajectory.

But here's what he figured out: setbacks only matter if you let them define your direction.

He wrote about "preferred indifferents" – things that are naturally preferable but don't determine your fundamental wellbeing. Or, in modern terms, “wants”. Getting accepted to your dream school is obviously better than getting rejected. But neither outcome changes who you are or what you're capable of becoming.

The Collection Game

So I started gamifying rejections. Every time I got turned down for something – a program, a job, a writing contest – I'd add it to my mental collection.

The rules were simple:

• Only rejections from things I genuinely wanted count

• Each rejection had to represent something I stretched for, not just threw at the wall

• I had to extract at least one useful insight from each experience

This reframe was surprisingly powerful. Instead of feeling defeated by each no, I felt like I was building toward something. Each rejection proved I was taking meaningful risks.

The first few were still hard. But by the fifth or sixth, I started feeling almost proud of my collection. You know that feeling of building up something? Yep, that’s it.  It meant I was consistently attempting things outside my comfort zone.

What My Rejection Collection Taught Me

After six months of deliberately collecting nos, here's what I learned:

• Rejection is information, not judgment. Most of the time, it's about suitability, timing, or circumstances beyond your control. It's rarely a commentary on your fundamental adequacy.

• Volume matters more than perfection. I got better results applying to ten things I was moderately qualified for than spending all my energy perfecting one application for something I was definitely qualified for. 

• Recovery time decreases with practice. The first rejection took me days to get over. By rejection number ten, I was bouncing back the next minute.

• Alternative paths often work out better. Several of my rejections led to opportunities I never would have discovered otherwise.

The Unexpected Benefits

The weirdest side effect of collecting rejections? My acceptances got better.

When you're not desperately attached to any single outcome, you can be more authentic in applications and interviews. You can take creative risks in essays. You can apply to stretch opportunities without the crushing fear of failure.

Paradoxically, caring less about individual rejections made me more successful overall.

I also became way better at helping friends handle their own disappointments. When someone would get rejected from something important to them, I could offer genuine perspective instead of just empty consolation.

"Why I Started Collecting Rejections (And You Should Too)"

Starting Your Own Collection

If you want to try rejection collecting, here's how to start:

Set a rejection goal. Aim for a specific number of meaningful rejections this year. Make it high enough to require real effort.

Define meaningful attempts. Only count rejections from things you genuinely wanted and stretched for. Rejections from safety schools or half-hearted applications don't count.

Extract the lesson. For each rejection, identify at least one thing you learned about your approach, the opportunity, or what you actually want.

Celebrate the attempt. Acknowledge that trying something difficult is inherently valuable, regardless of outcome.

Keep perspective. Remember that everyone you admire has a rejection collection too. They just don't post it on social media.

The goal isn't to seek out rejection for its own sake. It's to become comfortable enough with rejection that you can aim for things worth being rejected from.

Your rejection collection is proof that you're taking your ambitions seriously. Start building it today.