Olivia Carter sat in front of her laptop, staring at the email with a sinking feeling in her stomach.
"Dear Ms. Carter, we appreciate your submission. Unfortunately, your manuscript does not align with our current publishing needs. We encourage you to submit future work. Best of luck."
Another rejection.
Her fingers hovered over the trackpad before she sighed and closed the email. The words blurred together, a mix of politeness and dismissal she had grown all too familiar with.
This was the fifth rejection she had received this month alone. The fifteenth this year. And it was only March.
She slumped back in her chair, staring at the ceiling of her tiny apartment as frustration bubbled inside her. She had poured everything into her novel, late nights, early mornings, countless rewrites, only for every publishing house to turn her down like she was just another hopeful nobody.
Maybe that's all she was.
A nobody with a stack of unpublished stories and an inbox full of "no thank you."
Her best friend, Mia, had tried to be encouraging. "Every successful writer gets rejected a dozen times before they make it, Liv. You just have to keep going."
That was easy for Mia to say. She wasn't the one watching her bank account shrink while chasing a dream that clearly wasn't chasing her back.
Olivia groaned and ran a hand through her hair. The tiny studio apartment she had fought so hard to afford now felt suffocating. The cluttered bookshelf beside her desk, filled with drafts of unfinished stories, felt like a mocking reminder of how far she hadn't come.
She reached for her cold cup of coffee, took a sip, and grimaced.
How had she ended up here?
Writing had always been her passion. Ever since she was a kid, she had dreamed of seeing her name on a book cover. Of walking into a bookstore and spotting her novel on the shelves. Of proving to herself and everyone who doubted her that she could do this.
But maybe it was time to face the truth.
She had tried. She had really tried. But what if trying just wasn't enough?
Her phone buzzed beside her, shaking her from her thoughts. A message from Mia.
Mia: Stop sulking and come get drinks with me tonight. You need it.
Olivia sighed. As much as she loved Mia, she wasn't in the mood for drinks or small talk or pretending like her dreams weren't crumbling around her.
Olivia: Rain check?
Mia's response came almost instantly.
Mia: Liv… you're going to be famous one day. I know it. Just hang in there.
Olivia wanted to believe that. She really did.
But belief didn't pay the bills.
Her eyes drifted to the stack of printed-out query letters on her desk. A few were still waiting to be sent, but she hesitated. Was there even a point? Did she really want to put herself through another round of rejections?
She let out a breath and shut her laptop. Maybe she just needed a break. A distraction.
A job.
Her stomach twisted at the thought.
Writing was supposed to be the job. But rent wasn't going to pay itself, and her freelance editing gigs weren't cutting it anymore. If she wasn't going to make it as an author right now, she needed something, anything to keep herself afloat.
The idea of sitting at a boring desk job all day made her want to scream, but at this point, she didn't have the luxury of being picky.
She stood and stretched, rubbing at the knots in her shoulders. Her eyes flicked to the mirror across the room. She looked tired. Drained. Her dark brown hair was messily tied back, and there were faint shadows under her eyes from too many sleepless nights spent rewriting chapters that no one wanted to publish.
Shaking her head, she grabbed her phone and opened the job listings app.
She scrolled through postings for office assistants, retail clerks, and coffee shop baristas. Nothing she actually wanted to do, but at this point, want didn't matter.
Her finger hovered over a listing for a bookstore clerk. Maybe working around books would make her feel less like a failure.
Then she scoffed. Right, because shelving other people's published books wouldn't sting at all.
She threw her phone onto the couch and flopped down beside it.
She hated this. The uncertainty. The helplessness. The feeling that she was watching her dream slip further and further away.
Maybe it was time to let go.
Maybe it was time to be realistic.
Maybe, just maybe, it was time to find a real job.