No Contest
Unpublished
“I hate writing for contests. You know that, you cretin!” Lynn barked at her agent. Fortunately, she had already hung up the phone; Lynn rarely disagreed with her agent and never yelled at him when he could hear her. Frustrated even though she had the last word, Lynn tugged at her short brown hair; her slim body quivered with aggravation.
“A contest! Moron,” she muttered while she paced, her long legs eating up the length of her office. “‘Good for your reputation,’” she mimicked her agent’s argument. “Getting published is good for my reputation, damn it.” She whirled to address the phone, “Hustler! Blood-sucking wannabe!” The rational part of Lynn’s psyche, which was hiding in a corner trying not to draw attention to itself, knew her agent worked hard for her; she was published, respected and paid.
“What about my new novel? The one I’ve sweated blood over?” That was hardly fair; Lynn had just completed the first draft and had not yet told her agent. Her tirade was not about being fair. Her brown eyes glittered gold with irritation as Lynn looked around the room, searching for something more satisfying than the phone on which to vent her temper. There was nothing.
When published, I will let you know where to find the end! ~ Julia
