When writing conflicts with cooking, for me there is no contest. The image above is not a reflection on my culinary skills but a testimony to my ability to focus on my literary endeavours. This morning, in spite of being hungry, I got stuck into writing a new chapter, as I was on a role. I had earlier put some eggs into a pot of water and left them to cook for our breakfast, returning to the living room to continue my typing. I won’t apologize, as all puns are intended.
I became so engrossed by the ideas my brain was hatching that I completely forgot about breakfast. Even though my stomach was rumbling and complaining, I carried on eggstracting one thought after another until I had finished the chapter. With a sigh of relief and a great feeling of satisfaction, I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes – I was eggsausted but eggstatic.
I heard the door opening and a strange smell accompanied my husband as he entered the room, carrying a pot for me to eggsamine.
“I think these are cooked,” he eggsclaimed, holding out the pot. “The rest are on the ceiling.”
Well, you can see from the photo above just how ‘hard boiled’ they were. It was the sound of our breakfast eggsploding in the pot that caught his attention. This just goes to prove how dedicated writers can be to their work. I have cremated countless pizzas and boiled dry numerous pots of vegetables, pasta and rice, in the wake of pouring out my thoughts and words – I’m not eggsagerating. Now I can add blowing up eggs to the list.
The funny thing is, I was working on a sequel to one of my books and guess which one it was – ‘A Pocket Full of Shells‘ – I kid you not!