Eggs, innit

Writing a good sentence is like holding an egg in your hand.

There’s something so wonderfully complete about an egg, even as it’s caught between two states. It has a satisfying weight, and it nestles perfectly in your hand. The shell has an agreeable texture, and the shape of it is oddly calming.

Holding an egg is an ineffably pleasing experience, and that’s how it feels when you write something good: complete, delicate, inevitable.

La la la. I am so tired.

Which is my way of saying, hello, I’m still alive, I know I haven’t blogged for ages but both my real life and my writing life have swarmed together to engulf me at the moment, so I’m surfacing briefly to wave at you all. At some point all this kerfuffle will pass and I will lie face down on the sofa for a few hours.

Oh, we went to see Age of Ultron last night and it was ACES. Sassy robots forever, please. BOOOOOOOOOM.

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