Where the hell was that girl with his whiskey? It was cold in the courtyard. And drafty. But they wouldn’t let him smoke inside. And he really needed one. It was his first in six months so he probably didn’t need it so much as he wanted it. But right now he wasn’t in the mood to dissect the difference. He was too busy trying to pretend he didn’t really care. But his attempts at pretending collapsed almost immediately. He couldn’t lie to himself. He had wanted it. Bad.
As he thought about their rejection, he second-guessed every decision he had made. Where had he gone wrong? All he ever really wanted was to belong. Maybe that was it. Maybe they could smell the overwhelming need seeping out of his pores like a rancid perfume. The kind that claims to be glamorous but really is just cheap. Well screw them. He didn’t need to belong to their stupid group. Probably just a bunch of blowhards and know-it-alls. He took a long drag off his Camel and let his mind drift. He could see the headline now: “Unknown Author Defies Odds with Million Dollar Book Advance.”
But even as that thought formed, a single tear dropped. Stupid writing workshop.
I dedicate this to all my past rejections. Without them, I would not/could not be ME!
And thanks to all y’all (below) for your inspiration in word and picture!
Tina Stewart Brakebill 