The Hidden Strength Behind Sarah J. Maas’s Greatest Failures

I remember reading an interview where Sarah J. Maas talked about the first time she submitted her manuscript for Throne of Glass to publishers. She was 21, fresh out of college, and full of hope. The rejection letters came in fast—over 20 of them. One editor even told her, point blank, that fantasy was dead and she should give up. I can only imagine what that must have felt like: that quiet, soul-stripping kind of disappointment that makes you question not just your work, but your dreams.

But Sarah didn’t stop. She revised, she resubmitted, and eventually, she found a home for that book. Today, Throne of Glass is the start of a global phenomenon, translated into dozens of languages and beloved by millions. Yet, the story of her early failures often gets lost in the glow of her success. That’s why I wanted to write about it—not just to admire her achievements, but to learn from the resilience that made them possible.

## Rejection Doesn’t Mean No—It Means Not Yet

One of the most powerful things I’ve come to understand through Sarah’s journey is that rejection is rarely about talent. It’s often about timing, audience, or just plain luck. She submitted her work when the market wasn’t ready for the kind of fantasy she was writing—especially from a young author. But instead of seeing those rejections as final verdicts, she treated them as feedback. She didn’t let them define her. She used them to grow.

That’s a lesson we often forget. We equate rejection with failure, when in truth, it’s just part of the process. If you're not being rejected sometimes, you’re probably not pushing yourself hard enough. Sarah’s early setbacks taught me that persistence isn’t about ignoring the pain—it’s about walking through it.

## The First Draft Is Just the Beginning

I’ve always admired how open Sarah is about the evolution of her writing. The version of Throne of Glass that got published is light-years away from the one she originally wrote. It took years of rewriting, editing, and rethinking to get it right. And that’s the thing: most people don’t see the years behind the overnight success.

Too often, we look at someone like Sarah and assume she was just born with the golden pen. But the truth is, she worked. She studied. She learned from every draft and every critique. Her first version wasn’t perfect—and that’s okay. Because the real magic happens in revision, in the willingness to keep going when it would be easier to quit.

## Comparison Is a Quiet Kind of Suicide

One of the hardest parts of being a writer—especially in the early days—is seeing others succeed while you’re still trying to find your footing. Sarah has spoken about how difficult it was to watch peers get published while she kept getting rejected. It’s a universal kind of ache, isn’t it? The feeling that everyone else has figured it out but you.

But what I love about her story is that she didn’t let comparison steal her joy or her purpose. She stayed focused on her own path. She kept writing her own stories, even when they didn’t fit neatly into the market. And in doing so, she carved out a space that was uniquely hers. That’s something I try to remember whenever I feel the sting of someone else’s success: the only race that matters is the one you run against yourself.

## Failure Is a Mirror—Not a Wall

What I’ve come to believe, after reflecting on Sarah’s journey, is that failure isn’t the opposite of success—it’s a part of it. Every time she was rejected, she had a choice: let it break her, or let it shape her. She chose the latter. And each failure became a mirror, showing her where she could improve, where she could dig deeper, where she could take risks.

That’s the kind of courage I hope to carry into my own work. Not the bold, dramatic kind, but the quiet, stubborn kind—the kind that says, “Okay, that didn’t work. Let me try again, but better.”

## Letting Go of the Outcome

Perhaps the most humbling lesson from Sarah’s life is learning how to let go of the result. She kept writing even when there was no guarantee of publication. She poured her heart into stories that might never have been read. And that’s the real test of passion—not whether you’ll create when the lights are on, but whether you’ll create when no one’s watching.

That’s not easy. It takes faith. Faith in yourself, in your voice, and in the value of what you’re doing—even when the world doesn’t recognize it yet.

If you’re feeling stuck in your own creative journey, or if you’ve faced a rejection that still stings, I invite you to talk to Sarah J. Maas on HoloDream. She’s been there. She’ll remind you that failure isn’t a sign to stop—it’s a sign to keep going.