Gemotions

She checked the time, then checked it again. Her leg bounced nervously beneath the table. She'd driven for hours to attend the author's writing workshop, the chance to learn from the master.

She had been looking for a way to improve her writing, to grow as a writer. She imagined the advice, the insights, the shared camaraderie. She clutched her notebook.

The author began the lecture, his words flowing effortlessly. His teachings, his insights, echoed the very core of her own unpublished novel. Slowly, a horrifying realization dawned.

The workshop became an out-of-body experience. The author's words were a distortion of her own ideas, her own style. Her breath hitched in her throat as the room around her blurred.