Look what I found on the dock this morning: a perfectly perfect egg (from a duck, I think). I'd love to know how it got there. Two male mallards were sunning themselves nearby. No females in sight. Was a duck simply not able to contain herself?
Since I can relate just about anything to story telling and writing, naturally I see that egg as the story waiting to be hatched. Something's in there, all the ingredients necessary. It merely needs careful incubating and will emerge when ready. Don't neglect it, though. It'll never hatch if it's neglected.
Are you incubating something?
