Words. I have a passion for them. Pulling apart scenes in my head and making them more approachable. Simple.

There are times I reach for my big book of fancy words but more often than not I prefer the simple ones.

Sun. Butter. Mug. Coffee. Snow. Child.

Each word is a word most can relate to and there is a feeling attached.

Mug takes me to mornings I can linger over my cup of coffee in my writing room with the sun lamp beaming over me. Warmth and safety drift over me when I hear the word mug.

But sometimes words overwhelm me. I can’t find the exact right word to express how I’m feeling. Even the fancy book of words doesn’t have what I need.

Moments like these twist me up like a massive ball of rubber bands. Pull one free if you can; likely you can’t. They are entangled, like me.

So I stand there, among scraps and books and words; waiting for the right one to find me.