I didn’t win the book competition.
Aw shucks, I tell myself.
I tell myself that today.
But Saturday, 3 days ago, I was almost prostrate with grief.
I was never going to write again.
I was a terrible writer who would never make it.
I called my family.
It is very hard to admit to people that you failed.
Disappointments are hard to take.
Disappointing others is harder.
But I’ve just got to get up, dust myself off, and carry on.
And eat. I keep my head in the trough.
My husband consoled me with flowers.
Aren’t they beautiful?
He’s simply mahvalous!