Gemotions

He found himself avoiding his writing group. He had no desire to hear about their successes, their breakthroughs. The thought of it made his skin crawl.

He spent the weekend locked away in his apartment, staring at the manuscript, picking at the cover letter, each word a monument to his failure. He hadn’t touched it in a week.

He knew he should rewrite, edit, revise. But all he could do was stare out the window. He was convinced that the publisher was wrong, completely, utterly wrong. He wished they would change their minds.