1. I read the rejection letter.  They all sound the same, using the exact same words– “I hope you find the right home for your writing.  Good luck.”   Whatevs.
2. I feel bad. Frustrated. And sorry for myself.  Poor me.  Then… I feel proud. Sure, I got rejected, but I still put my stuff out there. I still gave it a shot. You can’t win if you don’t play.
3. I take a breath.  I try to remember to keep doing that, over and over.
4. I say to the rejection letter: “Screw you. You don’t know what you’re missing.  And you won’t make me give up, either.”
5. I place the rejection letter on a stack of other rejections.  When the stack gets to be 8 12 15 20 inches high, I know I’ve suffered enough.
6. I sit down and write some more.  And some more.  And a little more on top of that.  No one can stop me, no one. It’s my pleasure.  It’s my pain.  It’s mine.
7. I silently rehearse what I’m going to say to the Academy or Hollywood Foreign Press should I ever be called up to accept an award.  It could happen; when is does, I’ll be ready.
8. I write some more.  I keep a note pad by the toilet so no time is idle.
9. I remember that it doesn’t matter if I never sell anything.  I still have to write, for my own survival.  It’s an addiction, like coffee.  Or heroin.  For me, it’s more like coffee.  But a little like heroin, too.
10. Repeat until dead.

How do YOU deal with rejection?