Gemotions

The small, blinking light on the laptop confirmed it. Another rejection. I clicked on the email, reading the polite, yet ultimately shallow, platitudes. I was, frankly, unsurprised.

I swiveled my chair, the movement precise and deliberate, and gazed at the framed photograph on my desk – me, accepting an award for a previous novel. The image filled me with a quiet assurance. I knew my worth. These editors, these… gatekeepers… they were simply not worthy of my genius.

I stretched, a slow, languid movement, before taking a sip of my expensive tea. They were clearly missing a golden opportunity. Not my problem. I had another manuscript nearly complete. I'd send it to a far superior publisher. I closed the email and began to write.