Written by: Sabina Wiley
Published on June 30, 2026
Quest Log
Current Side Quest: Collect 1,000 rejections.
Difficulty: ★★★★★
Status: Ongoing.
Unexpected Loot: More adventures than expected.
If you were to snoop through my Google Drive, I’d hope you’d stop before opening one particular spreadsheet.
Not because it contains anything scandalous. There are no passwords, secret recipes, or color-coded plans to run away and open a bookstore on the coast. It’s embarrassing for an entirely different reason.
The file is called “1,000 Rejections.”
At first glance, it looks exactly like what you’d imagine: a spreadsheet meticulously tracking every scholarship, writing competition, volunteer board, fellowship, guest blog, networking email, speaking opportunity, and ambitious idea I’ve thrown into the world. Each row represents a moment when I decided to take a chance, knowing full well someone on the other side could say, “No, thank you.”
Most people laugh when I tell them about it.
Then they ask the obvious question.
“Why would anyone voluntarily keep a record of rejection?”
It’s a fair question, and honestly, I probably would have asked the same thing a few years ago.
The truth is, this spreadsheet didn’t begin because I wanted to become better at failing. It began because I realized I’d become exceptionally good at rejecting myself.
For years, I assumed interesting opportunities belonged to other people. The people who won scholarships were naturally brilliant. The people invited to speak must have known the right people. The writers getting published surely had more experience than I did. Every opportunity felt like something I needed permission to pursue, and more often than not, I decided I wasn’t qualified before anyone else had the chance to weigh in.
There were applications I never submitted because someone else deserved them more. Emails I drafted and deleted. Volunteer positions I convinced myself I wasn’t experienced enough for. Ideas that lived permanently in the Notes app on my phone because they felt just a little too unrealistic.
What’s funny is that none of those missed opportunities ever felt like rejection.
After all, no one had actually said no.
But looking back, those were the rejections that mattered most. They were simply delivered by the little voice in my own head.
One afternoon, after talking myself out of yet another opportunity, I had a strange thought: What if hearing “no” wasn’t actually the problem? What if avoiding it was?
That question eventually became a spreadsheet.
The rules were simple. Every time I applied for something that carried the possibility of rejection, it went on the list. My goal wasn’t to collect achievements. My goal wasn’t even to collect acceptances.
It was to collect attempts.
I figured that if I could rack up 1,000 rejections, one of two things would happen. Either I’d become completely desensitized to hearing no, or I’d accidentally build a much more interesting life along the way.
As it turns out, the spreadsheet had other plans.
There have been plenty of polite rejection emails. Scholarships I didn’t receive. Opportunities that simply weren’t the right fit. A few applications disappeared into the mysterious black hole that exists somewhere between clicking “Submit” and ever hearing back.
Those still sting a little.
But something unexpected started happening.
People also began saying yes.
Not all the time, and certainly not enough to make rejection enjoyable, but often enough that I started noticing a pattern.
One application led to a scholarship I never thought I’d receive. A nervous email turned into a meaningful professional connection. A scholarship application became an invitation to travel to a gala. I somehow ended up as an extra on a medical television show. Guest blog submissions turned into publishing opportunities. Conversations with strangers became friendships. Ideas I once assumed were “too big” slowly transformed into projects I was actually living.
Looking back, almost none of the experiences I’m most grateful for were part of some carefully crafted five-year plan.
They were side quests.
Small decisions to raise my hand. To ask. To apply. To send the email. To show up before I felt completely ready.
That’s why I started this blog.
Life rarely changes because of the perfectly planned milestones. More often, it changes because of the unexpected detours we almost talked ourselves out of taking. The coffee meeting that turns into a new career. The volunteer opportunity that introduces you to lifelong friends. The application you submit on a whim. The class you almost didn’t register for. The random invitation you almost declined because it felt inconvenient.
Those are the moments that reshape your story.
Ironically, my rejection spreadsheet never became a record of failure.
It became evidence that I was participating in my own life.
These days, I don’t open it to count how many times I’ve heard “no.” I open it because every row reminds me that I chose curiosity over certainty. Action over perfection. Possibility over comfort.
And here’s the part that surprised me most.
The biggest lesson wasn’t that rejection isn’t scary.
It is.
The biggest lesson is that rejection is almost never the thing standing between us and the life we want.
More often, it’s the fear of rejection that keeps us from ever finding out what’s possible.
That’s why the spreadsheet still exists.
Not because I enjoy hearing no.
Because every entry reminds me that I’d rather collect a hundred rejections than spend my life wondering what might have happened if I’d simply been brave enough to ask
Your Side Quest
Find one opportunity you’ve been talking yourself out of.
This is your sign to go for it.
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