I love the way you layer things, Mary. I think about Lena and what she believes she deserves and doesn’t, if her yearning for cleanliness, of the way her parents live in her. And there’s such a starkness there. I feel her sorrow. And then the rainbow—how it’s always with the sun at your back. And I feel her nourishment.
Mary, I never know what treats and surprises your writing will bring each week, but it's always something wonderful whether it be the way your story is unfolding or how you join your words together so meaningfully. "Gone, the way her mother scrubbed the kitchen floor with the clean white rags that turned gray and that she tossed down to the basement to wash later." Oh, how I have scrubbed my kitchen and bathrooms over the years in hopes of scouring myself of some painful emotion.
Oh, Susan, To say that I surprise, to quote the line, to show you relate to it and understand it so personally means everything to this writer and to the force of the novel—and to your good heart—this last the most key. So glad we found each other.
Lena’s vacillating between “comfort and correction” reminds me of a conversation I had today about the different layers of truth one experiences in life, many choosing only the first few layers because it’s safe, but then others, through willing intention or life simply forcing their hand, strip down to the very core. I’m not sure Lena is going to go the length, maybe the scar indicates she’s gone far enough for this lifetime, but it’s a scar nonetheless.
It's a scar that goes deeper than what she did--and you see that. You are such a deep reader. And I should note here that I am totally pro-choice on the former. AndI add that you are a deep reader who shows how much you care about the writing you read.
The floor was blue and white linoleum in long uneven, mixed-up lines of color that ran together, simulating a dark night-clouded sky. - love this, Mary.
I love the way you layer things, Mary. I think about Lena and what she believes she deserves and doesn’t, if her yearning for cleanliness, of the way her parents live in her. And there’s such a starkness there. I feel her sorrow. And then the rainbow—how it’s always with the sun at your back. And I feel her nourishment.
Beautifully done.
Mary, I never know what treats and surprises your writing will bring each week, but it's always something wonderful whether it be the way your story is unfolding or how you join your words together so meaningfully. "Gone, the way her mother scrubbed the kitchen floor with the clean white rags that turned gray and that she tossed down to the basement to wash later." Oh, how I have scrubbed my kitchen and bathrooms over the years in hopes of scouring myself of some painful emotion.
Oh, Susan, To say that I surprise, to quote the line, to show you relate to it and understand it so personally means everything to this writer and to the force of the novel—and to your good heart—this last the most key. So glad we found each other.
The things our parents say to us- how we carry them around long after they've gone -such a beautiful way to capture our connection to them, Mary
You are so right about how we carry the past, Ellen. I thank you for your gracious words about the writing. xx Mary
Lena’s vacillating between “comfort and correction” reminds me of a conversation I had today about the different layers of truth one experiences in life, many choosing only the first few layers because it’s safe, but then others, through willing intention or life simply forcing their hand, strip down to the very core. I’m not sure Lena is going to go the length, maybe the scar indicates she’s gone far enough for this lifetime, but it’s a scar nonetheless.
It's a scar that goes deeper than what she did--and you see that. You are such a deep reader. And I should note here that I am totally pro-choice on the former. AndI add that you are a deep reader who shows how much you care about the writing you read.
I care about YOUR writing. :) I'm not as careful with all my reads! And I'm with you on the pro-choice 100%.
Will respond in more detail shortly. For now, you hit it! Love, Mary
The floor was blue and white linoleum in long uneven, mixed-up lines of color that ran together, simulating a dark night-clouded sky. - love this, Mary.
Oh, Adrian, I'm so grateful for this comment on the writing: means much. Will be off to read you today. So important to support each other.