Gemotions

He stared at the email, the screen reflecting his own contented grin. The words, "Unfortunately, we cannot offer you a contract," didn't sting. They didn't even register. His dream publisher had said no, but somehow, that didn't matter.

He rose from his chair, stretching his arms high above his head. He'd written this novel. He’d poured everything into it. And he'd learned so much.

He glanced at the sketchpad lying on the desk, the pen still poised at the edge of the page. He walked over, the feeling of ease washing over him. The manuscript was not the only story he had to tell.