Resilience through rejection: embrace the long game

For all researchers, rejection is not just a possibility – it’s a rite of passage. Professors Chris Stewart and Tim Blower know this intimately. Chris was awarded the Lister Prize in 2021 after two previous rejections; Tim succeeded in 2019 after one. Their stories reveal the emotional toll of rejection, the importance of building resilience and the power of persistence.

Tim vividly recalls the pain, that feeling of pouring so much into an application, only to be left empty handed. “Early on in my career, it was utterly crushing,” he says, but is quick to emphasise how failure is the foundation for future success. “The feedback isn’t designed to slap you around the head. It’s designed to aid you later on.” Chris echoes this sentiment. “When my first Lister rejection arrived, I was already fairly accustomed to that repetitive process of rejection and then have to get going again,” he says. “But to be honest, I never really felt I was ever going to get the Prize, so just being longlisted already felt like a huge achievement.”

Feedback fuels growth

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The feedback isn’t designed to slap you around the head. It’s designed to aid you later on._”

Tim Blower, Lister Prize winner 2019

The importance that Chris and Tim give to the quality of the feedback they received on their rejected Lister Prize applications is striking, a real feature of the deep, case by case scrutiny that each application receives from the Lister Scientific Committee. “Whoever these folks were who reviewed my application, I have a debt of gratitude to them,” Tim says. “They were hugely helpful when I developed the case again for resubmission.”

Tim revised his proposal, dropped a weaker aim and added new data. He even negotiated a reduced teaching load – an unexpected but critical adjustment that demonstrated his university’s commitment to his research. The result? A successful application in 2019.

Chris's journey to the Lister Prize was anything but straightforward, but he, too, found encouragement in reviewer comments. “Some of the reviewers remembered my proposal from the previous year and said they still felt it was exceptional. That was really positive to read… they were definitely still in my corner and gave me confidence to reapply for a third round.”

Imposter syndrome and the power of peer support

For many early-career researchers who are just setting up their own research groups, it all boils down to self-belief and confidence; applying for a prestigious award like the Lister Prize can feel daunting. Chris admits to struggling with imposter syndrome: “When you go on the Lister website and look at all the current Fellows – never mind the long list of famous former Fellows – you forget you’re not seeing the snapshot of people at the time they apply. You’re seeing people several years into their Fellowship.” It’s all too easy to put yourself down as a second-class scientist.

He credits his decision to apply to the encouragement of peers like former Lister Fellow Professor Muzlifah Haniffa (Prize winner in 2016) and Professor Lindsay Hall who’d been rejected for the Prize in the past. “I probably needed two people like Muzz and Lindsay… I’m not sure I would otherwise have had the self-belief.” He also thanks Tim for helping him feel at home at his first Lister meeting when he was overwhelmed by the great and the good in biomedical research.

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Most of the time, people aren’t going to get the acclaim of joining the Lister family. And they shouldn’t feel unworthy of being an academic if they don’t._”

Chris Stewart, Lister Prize winner 2021

Tim agrees that peer support and encouragement is a vital part of applying (and helping people pick up the pieces after rejections too). “I’ve helped out five or six applicants since I got the Prize,” he says. “It builds lasting relationships.” He encourages applicants to reach out to former Fellows for advice – even to ask for a copy of their application as a benchmark.

Duty of care: where does responsibility lie?

When asked whether they think funders have a duty of care to applicants – particularly those who are rejected – they pause. It’s a tricky issue, they say, especially as application success rates from all funders are falling. Chris acknowledges that while institutions often celebrate success, they could do more to support those who fall short. “I’m fortunate,” he says. “My standing here in the eyes of my peers did not depend on whether I was a Lister Fellow or not. Maybe institutions could do more to make people feel valued… most of the time, people aren’t going to get the acclaim of joining the Lister family. And they shouldn’t feel unworthy of being an academic if they don’t.”

Tim wondered whether the responsibility for the fallout from failure lies with funders at all. “It’s their job to hand out money,” he says. “If someone’s putting themselves up to be given money, they have to also be aware that they might not get it and be prepared to handle the consequences.” But he reflected that the decision process had to be scrupulous: “If the process is viewed as being fair, with reduced bias and using transparent criteria, then that perhaps reduces the need for a funding agency to provide extensive duty of care at outcomes.” Responsibility should be shared, he concluded: “Home institutions should have mentoring networks in place to help develop applications and support whatever outcomes.”

Why apply – and why reapply

In spite of their painful near misses, both Chris and Tim are clear: the Lister Prize is worth the effort. For Chris, although the funding has opened a new strand of research that wouldn’t have been possible otherwise, the real value lies in the wider Lister community. “Being part of the Lister family puts me in a very prestigious club… the connections have been career-defining.”

Tim agrees. “The Lister Fellowship is intimidating in its impressive levels of capability and intellect… but it’s a diverse community that recognises cleverness in all its forms.”