It continues to amaze how you maintain the suspense (“She slid the scenery panels of her life through the backstage grooves while they burned and no one saw the fire.”) while the ordinary, everyday acts of the story flow in your unmistakable voice (“And Isaac saw Lena, standing at his doorway. She’d entered so quietly he hadn’t heard her—the way she’d stood, as if she were far away and yet present. What was it like? He wasn’t good at metaphors but wanted a way to think about how he saw her.”). And then there are the pearls: “I think there are two kinds of silences. The listening silence. What you understand. And the silent lie. The wisdom to be silent or the crime to be silent. “ Another gem.
Dear Lena, stepping into the fire! I held my breath through this chapter, the inevitability of her decisions now coded in every word, every look. Gorgeous writing, as always Mary!
I came in the middle at a time of mournful distraction, but many things clicked—the raveled sweater, the rosemary, the berries, to mention a few. And especially the hands at the end.
It continues to amaze how you maintain the suspense (“She slid the scenery panels of her life through the backstage grooves while they burned and no one saw the fire.”) while the ordinary, everyday acts of the story flow in your unmistakable voice (“And Isaac saw Lena, standing at his doorway. She’d entered so quietly he hadn’t heard her—the way she’d stood, as if she were far away and yet present. What was it like? He wasn’t good at metaphors but wanted a way to think about how he saw her.”). And then there are the pearls: “I think there are two kinds of silences. The listening silence. What you understand. And the silent lie. The wisdom to be silent or the crime to be silent. “ Another gem.
Quite simply: Wowza! with my heart: You've got me! Remember that!
Dear Lena, stepping into the fire! I held my breath through this chapter, the inevitability of her decisions now coded in every word, every look. Gorgeous writing, as always Mary!
What a lovely, generous comment, Kimberly!
another story hidden in the telling - powerful and delicate once again, Mary.
Means so much, Adrian.
I came in the middle at a time of mournful distraction, but many things clicked—the raveled sweater, the rosemary, the berries, to mention a few. And especially the hands at the end.
Oh, Rona, I am so encouraged by your kind words about the writing and sorry for the "mournful distraction." Blessings, Mary
I love the imagery of the sweater. My mom used to do that. I never could get the hang of knitting or crocheting, but you capture it perfectly.
Thank you, Tim. I love your post today.
Thank you! ❤️
Beautifully written. Description of the berries, the softness of the flower petals ... so lovely.
Ah, lovely, Isabelle. Thank you.