Gemotions

"So," David said aloud, staring at the perfectly typed rejection, “they didn’t get it.” He pictured the stuffy editor, undoubtedly wearing a tweed jacket and reading by a crackling fire. He grinned, feeling a delicious defiance.

He tossed the letter onto his coffee table, then began pacing. His energy was crackling. He could feel it in his fingertips, tingling with the potential to create something more. He’d poured his soul into this novel, and even rejection couldn't touch it.

He grabbed his phone. He'd text his agent and begin planning his next steps. It was only the beginning. He could practically see the headline.