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| Bob Brody |
Getting rejected repeatedly leaves a lot to be desired in any profession. In the case of a public relations practitioner, it often means a member of the media has judged your pitch about your client to be free of merit.
Ouch!
As it happens, I’m no stranger to reporters and producers in effect slamming a door in my face. I started pitching story ideas, officially known as conducting media outreach, 34 years ago. My pitches were often rejected then and – guess what? – they’re hardly less likely to get a hard pass today. By now the rejections I’ve accumulated across the decades must number well into the thousands.
Early on in my PR career, I took every thumbs-down personally. I felt these reporters were turning me down as a person. My attitude would degenerate from disappointment to discouragement. No sooner would a pitch be declined than I would undergo what I’ve termed the seven stages of rejection.
First comes shock. How could this possibly happen? How could these editors be oblivious to my pitching prowess? How could they so blithely disregard all the energy I so painstakingly invested?
Second, denial. Surely the people who opt to say nope have committed some clerical error here. Maybe they were out partying too hard last night.
Third, dismissal. What do any of these sorry-ass cubicle wretches know in the first place about real news Who appointed this stupid editor of a stupid lifestyle magazine the last word anyway? They publish drivel, yet they nix my hard-earned 100-mile-an-hour pitch.
Fourth, anger, first at media gatekeepers, followed instantly by anger at myself. Why do I punish myself throwing my arm out pitching every day? Why do I let strangers render arbitrary verdicts on my labors? Am I, in fact, a masochist or martyr who compulsively craves abuse? And what did I expect anyway? Here I am, after all, practicing media relations, a function whose main occupational hazard is rejection.
Fifth, bargaining, liberally seasoned with heavy doses of delusion. What will it take reporters to recognize that my pitch is, in fact, blockbuster stuff, worthy of the front page. Do I need to hold a reporter hostage at gunpoint?
Sixth, depression. Let’s face it: I’m no good. Never was any good and never will be. It’s as simple as that. Who am I to parade around masquerading as a media strategist? Whatever inspired my confidence that any self-respecting TV producer would deign to interview my real estate developer client? How is it that after three-plus decades slogging along I have yet to learn precisely how to read the room?
Seventh, acceptance. Only in the last few years have I finally entered this stage. No longer do I find rejection, in a word, unacceptable. To the contrary, oxymoronic though it might be, I came to accept rejection.
But before I presume to present any lessons I’ve learned from this Olympian epiphany, let me offer a little context lest I mislead you into suspecting that I have nothing to show for my 34 years on the pitching mound but strikeouts. In between rejections, I’ve consistently generated top-tier media coverage across print, broadcast and online, with results appearing everywhere from the front page of The Wall Street Journal to the “Today” show, The New Yorker, Fortune, CNN and “The PBS NewsHour.”
My advice in a nutshell?
For starters, a reporter may have recently run a story similar to your pitch. Or believes your client lacks the credentials or stature or expertise or marquee value to fit the bill. Or has enough inventory in the pipeline to manage just fine without whatever you’re peddling from your pushcart. Or was too distracted the day you pitched to feel properly awed at your unmistakable genius. That’s just reality.
And make no mistake: in general, you can do nothing about any of that. Any pitch, from anybody, about anything, can be rejected, and for any reason. Some stuff is simply beyond your control. Deal with it.
Then again, hard though it may be to believe, you yourself might be at fault. Your pitch could lack relevance and resonance. It might be poorly articulated or insufficiently dramatized or unoriginal or flat-out half-baked.
Maybe you should second-guess yourself, take a second look, get a second wind, try a second pass, and, in approaching another reporter, give yourself a second chance. Tweak that pitch. Tinker with it. Or maybe overhaul it from head to toe.
Rejection can be instructive, but only if you listen to what it’s trying to teach you. It even kind of does you a favor. It forces you to face reality. The market has spoken, much as voters do in an election. It can stiffen your resolve, too.
If I’ve picked up anything from my experiences in PR, it’s that the sooner you learn to adapt to no, the better you’ll have a shot at yes.
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Bob Brody, a public relations consultant, served as a media strategist and editorial specialist at Weber Shandwick, Ogilvy Public Relations and Howard J. Rubenstein Associates. He is the author of the memoir "Playing Catch with Strangers: A Family Guy (Reluctantly) Comes of Age," and has contributed essays to The Wall Street Journal, The Washington Post and The New York Times, among other publications.
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