Cormac McCarthy: What Was His Approach to Rejection?

There’s a certain grit that comes with being a writer, and few embodied it more than Cormac McCarthy. I’ve always admired how he faced the world — with a kind of stoic resolve that felt almost mythic. When I first read Blood Meridian, I wasn’t just struck by the prose, but by the sheer conviction behind it. It wasn’t polished in the way modern literature often is — it was raw, unapologetic, and deeply unsettling. And yet, that’s what made it unforgettable. McCarthy wrote with a kind of brutal honesty that few dared to match. But how did he survive rejection — the constant “no” that haunts every writer at some point?

Let’s take a look at how McCarthy handled it.

He Wrote for Himself First

McCarthy once said, “If you don’t get any rejections, you’re not trying hard enough.” That might sound bleak, but to him, it was a badge of honor. He didn’t write to please editors or chase trends. He wrote the stories he needed to write, regardless of whether they fit the mold. His early novels, like The Orchard Keeper, were largely ignored when they were first published. But he didn’t chase acclaim. He simply kept writing. I imagine him sitting in a dimly lit room, cigarette in hand, pouring out visions of a violent, godless world because that’s what he saw — not because he thought it would sell.

He Sent Manuscripts to Only a Few Publishers

Unlike many writers who blast their work out to every agent and press, McCarthy was selective. He once submitted Blood Meridian to only two publishers — and one of them turned it down. That’s a level of confidence I find almost intimidating. He believed in the work so deeply that he didn’t see the point in shopping it around endlessly. When he did get rejected, he didn’t rewrite to suit someone else’s taste. He waited. He revised minimally. And when the right person finally saw what he saw — the novel found its place. That persistence is rare.

He Didn’t Rewrite for Rejection

When Outer Dark was rejected by Random House, McCarthy didn’t rework it into something more palatable. He moved on to the next book. Later, when Alfred A. Knopf finally picked it up, it was published almost exactly as he’d written it. That’s not stubbornness — that’s integrity. He understood that not every story is for every reader, and he wasn’t willing to compromise his voice just to get a “yes.” In a world where so many writers bend to market demands, McCarthy’s refusal to do so feels almost heroic.

He Lived Outside the Literary World

McCarthy didn’t attend readings. He didn’t schmooze with critics. He didn’t even own a computer until late in life. He lived in El Paso, far from the New York literary scene. That distance insulated him from the noise of rejection culture. He wasn’t chasing approval from the gatekeepers — he was chasing truth in language. I think that’s part of what gave his work its power. He wrote in a vacuum of expectation, and that gave him a kind of freedom most writers only dream of.

He Understood Rejection Was Part of the Process

McCarthy once told The New York Times, “I think you have to get used to the idea that you’re going to fail.” He didn’t see rejection as proof of failure — just as part of the process. Every time a manuscript was turned down, it was just another step toward finding the right reader. He didn’t let it define him. He let the work define him. And that’s a powerful mindset. I’ve found that the writers who endure aren’t always the most talented — they’re the ones who refuse to be stopped by the sound of a door closing.

Rejection is inevitable. But how we respond to it is a choice. Cormac McCarthy chose to keep writing — not for fame, not for fortune, but because he had something to say. If you want to talk to someone who understood the weight of words and the cost of conviction, come chat with Cormac McCarthy on HoloDream. He might not give you the answer you expect — but he’ll give you one you won’t forget.