johanna e. hall

Last year, I saw the poet Salem Paige (@corpseofapoet) share a rejection letter on their Instagram story. I couldn’t stop thinking about it afterward. It seemed very important. What would it be like to be able to receive an email rejecting your deepest self-expression and be proud? Glad that you were there?

Since then, I’ve seen this philosophy pop up more and more places. Musicians Lizzy Hilliard and Emma Jayne started the group 50 rejections. The page 365 DAYS OF REJECTION hosts a guy asking to do all kinds of things, just to see if he succeeds. Sarah Schauer literally just uploaded a podcast episode on this topic as I’m writing this.

Last May, after the generative frenzy of Escapril, I started collecting rejections, holding them close. I tried out the belief that they were valuable. I decided I wanted 50 in 2025. I got rejected from big magazines, small magazines, newspapers, Instagram pages, blogs, contests.

In the end, I only managed 44. To me, this is a sign to be less careful, to put myself more places. To send more poems into more lines of fire. It also tells me to become less palatable, more authentic. Become more me, so much so that I am welcome in fewer places, but become so me that I am seen in as many places as possible.

The more you’re rejected, the more places you exist in. The more your work (or person) has been considered. The more grateful you are for acceptances (and the more you get, of course—this philosophy not-so-secretly hopes to backfire). The more you learn about where you fit—the places where you don’t at all, and the ones where you don’t quite yet. Plus rejection is inherent to being an artist/human, and all that jazz.

I’m setting my goal higher this year, at 60. And I’m not just querying publications, but residencies, workshops, reading series. All the places a poet could be, I’m going to ask to be. And in so doing, I will be in the most important poetic place—continuously creating, and continuously being in the world. (The great thing is, I don’t have to believe in myself to go into the world. Remind me someday to write the manifesto that cured my imposter syndrome.)

This year of rejection- (and attention-) seeking behavior that I’ve landed on is already serving me, so let’s catch up. What worlds have I visited since we’ve last spoken?

Places: A very cool new zine, Headstone, included my poem “Ode to the Funeral of a Stranger” in their first issue. This is an absolutely gorgeous print publication—the person who traded for my extra copy at the local zine fest was overjoyed. And then I’m very proud to have “[turning]” in issue 21 of thread lit mag, a cool Instagram-based publication run by Chill Subs(!).

Formats: I’ve always been a free-verse poet, but I started exploring different forms within Escapril and dipped my toes in officially last May with a purposely not-rhyming poem. I’ve recently had two(!) poems with structured forms published. “Plum, Begotten” (in issue 4 of Bleating Thing Mag) is a twin cinema poem—a poem in two columns that reads across and down, three poems in one. I’ve affectionately been calling it my “Jesus fruit” poem. And in actual rhyming news, “Adolescence in Sonnet Form” (in The Orchards Poetry Journal Winter 2025) is, in fact, in sonnet form, and is an Escapril 2025 graduate!

Mediums: I’ve also traveled across mediums—Full House Literary and Eavesdrop Magazine both asked me to include a recording of me reading my piece for their publications. “Thermometer Girl” (a fun piece where mercury poisoning means whatever you want it to mean) and “in which I hestate to write another poem in the first person” (a hesitant political poem) can be found (and listened to!) in The Games Room and Issue 5: Resistance, respectively.

Cringe: Having your heart on your sleeve pays off sometimes. Fruitslice‘s ninth issue is titled “Kill the Part that Cringes”and I knew exactly what I had to do. “My Cringeful Romance: On Embarrassing Venerations & Sincere Resurrections” is an essay that changed my life to write. It’s too late to hide my My Chemical Romance fangirling (I’m proud to be Frank Iero’s coworker), so I may as well go all in. I managed to see the band twice in 2025, and will tell anyone who will listen about it—including an amazing publication, who again wanted to hear what was going on with me! They also invited me to read at their virtual launch party, which was such a joy. And then Issue 10 of t’Art Magazine includes a poem called “Mostly Empty-Handed” about my failures as a community member—but also the way movements cannot be killed. I’m beginning to be more active in my community politically, which is kinda cringe. (I’m not including a cringe manifesto here because it already exists in Fruitslice issue 9.)

Shortlists/Nominations: These are kinda like rejections and acceptances at the same time, which is perfect for me. “in which I hesitate to write another poem in the first person” was shortlisted for Eavesdrop Magazine‘s Resist Award. In the spring, Fruitslice published “The Protest Sign Says ‘The Closet is an Awful Place to Die’ or, In Which I Ponder Creationism,” and they graciously nominated it for the Best Spiritual Literature Awards. And my beloved “‘Hope’ is stronger than feathers” was nominated for a Pushcart Prize by Floating Acorn Review, which is something people add to their bios, it seems. My sister and her bird are very proud.

The World: My first venture into opportunity rejections backfired so now I’m a featured reader at a local poetry series? Charlottesville people, stay tuned.

Rejections: I’m up to four already this year! Including one I’m really bummed about. And so it goes.

That’s all for now, I think. Try to get rejected today. Be cringe. You never know where you’ll end up.

❤ Johanna