Writing About Writing About Science is a free monthly newsletter for new and aspiring science communicators by freelance science journalist Elise Cutts. Did you get this from a friend? Sign up so you don’t miss the next post.

Last month, another science journalist asked me how I managed to break into several flashy science magazines despite having almost no formal science journalism training.

I kind of had to laugh. There’s no real secret. I just kept trying until it worked.

It turns out, I’m in good company with this “be stubborn” strategy. Legend has it that John McPhee pitched the New Yorker for 15 years before they finally gave him a shot — he went on to become one of their most famous regular contributors. Frank Herbert’s sci-fi magnum opus Dune was rejected 20 times. So if you’re getting rejected, you’re in good company.

If you want to be a science writer — especially if you’re hacking your way in from the outside, like I did — you’re going to need to get used to rejection. This post is all about rejected pitches — why pitches are rejected, how to react to a “no,” and why even a failed pitch is a success if you’re playing the long game.

Why are pitches rejected?

Let’s start with the reasons why pitches are rejected. Editors may or may not take the time to tell you — in my experience, they start making more of an effort the more often you interact.

First off, it is possible that your pitch was just bad. Bad pitches are a thing. But the good news is that the bar is really, really low. If you care about your work, you’d probably be shocked to see the low-effort crap editors get flooded with. I highly recommend reading some pitch horror stories to build your confidence. Write your pitch by hand (no/minimal AI) in complete, correct sentences and make a good-faith effort to communicate the news and why it matters, and you’re already better than half of your competitors.

Second, there’s bad timing. Your pitch might be perfect, but if you pitched an Earth science story right in the middle of a big geology conference you might have a rough time. Additionally, media outlets have production schedules and sometimes there might not be space for your time-sensitive story or there might already be several similar stories queued up (a general science magazine doesn’t just want physics stories!).

Third, there’s bad fit. A perfect Quanta pitch is not a good Science pitch. If you’re not reading the magazines you write for, start doing that. You need to tailor your pitches to the outlets you pitch.

Want some feedback on a pitch? I offer 1:1 training and support for early-career science writers, both via Zoom and asynchronously if you just want someone to read over a pitch, post, or application. Interested? Get in touch!

Fourth, editors are people too. Sometimes you might have just been unlucky and landed in one of their least-favorite topics. Sometimes, editors are just stressed and don’t want to take on a new project. And sometimes, even good editors can dismiss great stories.

Fifth, your pitch and writing might be fine but the editor might not believe the study or think it is too speculative. This is something that happens to me occasionally, since I write about pretty bleeding-edge, speculative stuff. This kind of rejection is often an invitation to go out and do more reporting to determine if there really is a story there before writing.

Finally, your pitch email could be well-written and clear, but the thing you pitched might just not be newsworthy or interesting to anyone but you. It happens. That’s what blogs are for ;)

There are surely more reasons, but these are the ones that come to mind for me.

Failed pitches are still a success

I really, truly believe that the best way to get good at science writing is to pitch a lot — and be rejected a lot.

Failed pitches are writing practice

Writing makes you a better writer, and writing pitches is writing. And because nobody owns the rights to a story they didn’t take, you’re up to it, you can even repurpose failed pitches as blog posts and social media content that build your audience and connect you to more scientists, journalists, and readers.

Failed pitches are feedback

As a freelancer, you get very little feedback and mentorship. Rejected pitches are feedback, and you can learn a lot from them.

Pay attention to patterns in which pitches get accepted and which don’t. If you’re feeling daring, ask the editor if they might be willing to say why the pitch was rejected. Experiment with making changes to your pitches or pitching different editors and seeing what works and what doesn’t.

Failed pitches lead to assignments

Sounds weird, but it’s true. Often, I’ve pitched an editor and gotten a “no,” only for them to turn around — sometimes right away, sometimes weeks or months later — and ask me to write something else for them.

Good pitches, even if they don’t work out, are your way of telling an editor that you want to work with them — and to demonstrate your writing skills and give them a sense of your niche.

Sometimes I’ll quickly throw together a pitch — even if I’m not super confident in it — just to “say hello” to an editor I haven’t worked with in a while. Best case, it works out! Worst case, I reminded the editor that I exist and might get an assignment later.

Failed pitches keep you develop your niche

Searching through and reading research studies to find things to pitch — even if the pitch doesn’t work out — helps you keep tabs on what’s going on in your niche. And if you keep pitching stories along similar lines (say, on planetary science or vaccines), editors will get the memo and start to think of you when they have a story in your wheelhouse. This has worked for me! Pitching complexity science stories, even when they didn’t work out, got me a reputation for writing on that topic that has led to several assignments.

Thick skin is patchy

If you’re reading all this and thinking “no way can I ever get used to that much rejection,” same. That was me. But I’ve discovered that thick skin can be patchy. Grit can be situational.

I do not consider myself a particularly gritty person. A social rejection or academic failure might shut me down for days. I hate bright lights and loud noises, and I quit clubs and programs very quickly if they make me even a little uncomfortable. I don’t tolerate physical discomfort well and can’t “push myself” well during exercise — I’m convinced that the only reason I’m even halfway fit is because my dad was a ridiculous athlete and blessed the me with some supercharged athlete sperm RNAs (sounds crazy, but emerging research suggests that dads’ fitness really does get passed down this way).

So I was surprised to find that I’m actually pretty great at brushing off pitch rejections. Maybe it’s the email format, which feels less personal than a face-to-face “no.” I’m not sure. But it has only gotten easier with time. Each rejection stings a little less.

Even if you don’t think of yourself as a particularly “thick skinned” person, give pitch persistence a try. You might surprise yourself. And each pitch — even a failed one — does contribute to your success.

Need some feedback on a pitch? Want some guidance on finding stories? I offer 1:1 training and support for early-career science writers, both via Zoom and asynchronously if you just want someone to read over a pitch, post, or application. Interested? Get in touch!

Have questions? Find me on Bluesky or shoot me an email. If it’s something I can answer quickly, I’m happy to help. Otherwise, I offer training and support for early-career science writers taking their first steps into this field — both 1:1 via Zoom and asynchronously. Check out my website or get in touch for more details.