Scripted Love

laptop, staring at the email wit

y, your manuscript does not align with our current publishing

r reje

d closed the email. The words blurred together, a mix of po

received this month alone. The fiftee

d inside her. She had poured everything into her novel, late nights, early mornings, countless re

at's all

published stories and an in

very successful writer gets rejected a dozen times be

e watching her bank account shrink while chasin

so hard to afford now felt suffocating. The cluttered bookshelf beside her desk, filled w

old cup of coffee, to

she ende

ing her name on a book cover. Of walking into a bookstore and spotting her novel on t

was time to f

ally tried. But what if t

r, shaking her from her th

come get drinks with m

't in the mood for drinks or small talk or preten

: Rain

se came almo

to be famous one day. I k

o believe that.

didn't pa

few were still waiting to be sent, but she hesitated. Was there even a poi

her laptop. Maybe she just n

jo

twisted at

freelance editing gigs weren't cutting it anymore. If she wasn't going to make

day made her want to scream, but at this poin

e room. She looked tired. Drained. Her dark brown hair was messily tied back, and there were faint shado

abbed her phone and open

tail clerks, and coffee shop baristas. Nothing she actu

ookstore clerk. Maybe working around book

e shelving other people's publi

onto the couch and f

lessness. The feeling that she was watchi

was time

s time to b

e, it was time t