In my lap, I am holding a book by one of my favorite writers. I fell in love with her work years ago and, despite a disappointing book or two along the way, remain a big fan.
There’s something about the way she puts words together that makes me want to run my fingers across them on the page. I’m convinced the words themselves will have texture; they simply must to cause such a tactile response in my mind.
I want to write like that, with the beauty and the rhythm. I want people to have to read my sentences out loud. For now, I’m gonna read and see if I can soak up the magic.