The rush of inventing a word that would make it into the OED just the once were it somehow noticed before vanishing like one of those synthetic elements invented for the sheer physicist’s fuck of it before vanishing a millisecond later with no impact on the universe whatsoever.

Thus invertebratefully, perfectly logical for one second in one sentence (“Nor were trilobites ever giant, nor scary, nor anything but invertebratefully adorable, like the little darlings scattered about the bookshelves here in my office.”) Then poof, gone.

Sometimes I think writing is like a jazz solo in an empty room, perfect for just that moment and then never heard again.