Words dance. They stumble. Sometimes they pirouette across the page with unexpected grace, and other times they trudge along like reluctant teenagers at a family reunion. But here's the truth about engaging prose: it's less about the words you choose and more about the rhythms you create.
I've spent countless hours staring at manuscripts that felt like wading through waist-deep molasses—not because the ideas were poor, but because every sentence moved with the same plodding cadence. The same structure. The same predictable pattern that lulled readers into a cognitive coma faster than a midnight marathon of tax law documentaries.
