But after a Maria appointment—plunging my hands in hot sudsy dishwater, gazing outside where Cindy harvested ripe veggies, reviewing the NP’s guidance, anchoring myself in her no-nonsense remedies—the fear gripping my middle relaxed as the possibility of recovery bloomed.
Such great compression! This syntax works so well, creating an arc for the character. Presumably the protagonist is sick and has seen Maria, who has remedies. But it takes the character some time to reflect and process what Maria has told her. And that processing is captured by the modifiers framed by the em dash. So good!
But once he heard the noise — hoping it wasn’t real, knowing it was inevitable, thinking of the consequences, sky-splitting, world-ending, finally accepting the reality — the responsibility — he calmed his thoughts, wiped his brow, and pushed open the door.
The left-branching sentence works so well here to create suspense and build to the moment when the protagonist can calm down enough to open the door. Wonderful!
Amazing tension straight up to the ending of the sentence! And with style. I’m curious about the setting my initial impression (maybe morbid) is that of a cheating wife. Of course it could be anything!
Thanks! I don't really know what the setting is. First 'he' had a thought, but I had trouble making that work, and a noise seemed better. Only, it seems to be someone with a firm sense of duty and an inability to remember that one should never open the door.
Wow, you still crafted an amazing sentence—i tried riffing off your idea of the door, but couldn’t get that tension yours have. Your suspense is prime—if I were you, I’d continue and write the full scene see what’s there! Anyway l, well done!
I agree! There is a sense that the protagonist knows the source of the sound, "knowing it was inevitable." But whatever the source, it appears traumatic or frightening, and so there would be a delay in identifying the name of the source.
In the wake of the storm—drawing hard on the roll-up, and looking out to the seas, now tamed and subdued, sharing with the others the fears she'd resisted, how they had snuck up on her, caused her to sway but not to stumble—she allowed the satisfaction at her resolution to swell then savoured the knowledge she was better placed for the next test.
I love how the sea was once stormy and is now "tamed and subdued," echoing the transformation of the character. I hear a lot of "s" in this sentence. Often, when you're wondering what to alliterate, the answer is--what do you want to draw attention to? For me, the "s" sound draws attention to the sea and storm. Then sway and stumble and then satisfaction and savoured. There is an arc to the "s" sound here, which is so cool!
Quick technical question: how is an em dash written? Is it one long dash, which is sometimes formed when typing 2 dashes consecutively (—), or is it two separate small dashes (--)? In your model, I see it written both ways.
But once the door closed— cracking with rust and wood, dragging the door’s edge on the stone ground, clicking with the cold welcome of the winter storm as the key forced the iron bar to lock, closing the world he once knew—he sat on the small cold bench, head down, not knowing if, or what to think or expect.
So evocative and tragic. This guy is in bad shape. Each of your em-enclosed phrases adds to the scene and the feeling. And it all leads to...the unknown.
Thanks for pointing that out, Kevin. Here, much as you did, I just followed the sentence and didn’t see the tragedy as much, though in retrospect, maybe I was hoping that feeling emerged!
But after another argument—cradling a cup of tea, and huddling in the corner of the booth, wilted limp, opening up to her sister, telling her what the fight had been about, how it had started, and the terrible things she had said to her husband— her hand extended in despair across the table, this time warmed with her sister’s clasp.
But after a Maria appointment—plunging my hands in hot sudsy dishwater, gazing outside where Cindy harvested ripe veggies, reviewing the NP’s guidance, anchoring myself in her no-nonsense remedies—the fear gripping my middle relaxed as the possibility of recovery bloomed.
Such great compression! This syntax works so well, creating an arc for the character. Presumably the protagonist is sick and has seen Maria, who has remedies. But it takes the character some time to reflect and process what Maria has told her. And that processing is captured by the modifiers framed by the em dash. So good!
But once he heard the noise — hoping it wasn’t real, knowing it was inevitable, thinking of the consequences, sky-splitting, world-ending, finally accepting the reality — the responsibility — he calmed his thoughts, wiped his brow, and pushed open the door.
The left-branching sentence works so well here to create suspense and build to the moment when the protagonist can calm down enough to open the door. Wonderful!
Thanks, Nina.
Amazing tension straight up to the ending of the sentence! And with style. I’m curious about the setting my initial impression (maybe morbid) is that of a cheating wife. Of course it could be anything!
Thanks! I don't really know what the setting is. First 'he' had a thought, but I had trouble making that work, and a noise seemed better. Only, it seems to be someone with a firm sense of duty and an inability to remember that one should never open the door.
Wow, you still crafted an amazing sentence—i tried riffing off your idea of the door, but couldn’t get that tension yours have. Your suspense is prime—if I were you, I’d continue and write the full scene see what’s there! Anyway l, well done!
I agree! There is a sense that the protagonist knows the source of the sound, "knowing it was inevitable." But whatever the source, it appears traumatic or frightening, and so there would be a delay in identifying the name of the source.
Thanks so much!
In the wake of the storm—drawing hard on the roll-up, and looking out to the seas, now tamed and subdued, sharing with the others the fears she'd resisted, how they had snuck up on her, caused her to sway but not to stumble—she allowed the satisfaction at her resolution to swell then savoured the knowledge she was better placed for the next test.
I love how the sea was once stormy and is now "tamed and subdued," echoing the transformation of the character. I hear a lot of "s" in this sentence. Often, when you're wondering what to alliterate, the answer is--what do you want to draw attention to? For me, the "s" sound draws attention to the sea and storm. Then sway and stumble and then satisfaction and savoured. There is an arc to the "s" sound here, which is so cool!
Quick technical question: how is an em dash written? Is it one long dash, which is sometimes formed when typing 2 dashes consecutively (—), or is it two separate small dashes (--)? In your model, I see it written both ways.
One long dash typing two dashes consecutively. For some reason, my computer wouldn’t do the second em dash this way. Mysteries prevail.
This is so insightful.
But once the door closed— cracking with rust and wood, dragging the door’s edge on the stone ground, clicking with the cold welcome of the winter storm as the key forced the iron bar to lock, closing the world he once knew—he sat on the small cold bench, head down, not knowing if, or what to think or expect.
So evocative and tragic. This guy is in bad shape. Each of your em-enclosed phrases adds to the scene and the feeling. And it all leads to...the unknown.
Thanks for pointing that out, Kevin. Here, much as you did, I just followed the sentence and didn’t see the tragedy as much, though in retrospect, maybe I was hoping that feeling emerged!
But after another argument—cradling a cup of tea, and huddling in the corner of the booth, wilted limp, opening up to her sister, telling her what the fight had been about, how it had started, and the terrible things she had said to her husband— her hand extended in despair across the table, this time warmed with her sister’s clasp.
Great, Lori. You've used the exercise to create a well-drawn scene with real depth. And with lots of style too.