Aug 21, 2023·edited Aug 21, 2023Liked by Nina Schuyler
Yes, super challenging but made (slightly) easier by the break down steps (thank you!!). Here's an attempt - didn't get all the techniques in there yet....a start:
A peach blushed under the sun yielded to my touch, fuzzed flesh along my tongue, slipped its skin beneath my teeth as if shimmying from an unzipped skirt, gushed against my throat like a pressure suddenly released and I felt a sudden pang of sorrow, a sharp pain in the chest, a carved and hollowed hurt, I felt regret, I felt nostalgic for all the love created and consumed to feed the hunger in my mind, my mind's eye blinkered, busted, bewitched by need and fruitful fancy, (he hadn't loved her, never that way), a spell of silent wishing to satiate a heart gone swollen, gone sour, a disconnected connection fermented to going going gone.
Beautiful! There is a strong contrast between the sensuality of the peach and the mind and its different hunger. I agree with David--that line, "slipped its skin..." is unique and stands out. I find that the string of verbs adds so much energy to the sentence: blushed, yielded, fuzzed, slipped, gushed. I like the repetition of "I felt" because it creates one interpretation that the narrator can't quite put into words what he/she is feeling. Then the parenthetical point of view feels like another storyline--it's so cool to weave it in this way! Thank you for sending me this sentence! I learned a lot.
Thanks for reading Nina and for this lovely feedback. And thank you for taking Jarman's sentence on, it's a doozie. The whole story is excellent really. I often return to read other stories in Nineteen Knives.
I love the parallel hungers, and how the bite into the 🍑 brings all this emotion to the fore. I especially loved, “slipped its skin beneath my teeth as if shimmying from an unzipped skirt,” which brings the sensuousness of food and love together in a startling and instantly recognizable manner!
Thanks for reading and sharing your impressions David - I'm still wondering if the syntax of Jarman's sentence can only be applied to a description of something explosive/exploding and whether the approach(es) holds for softer scenes...
Wow, quite a challenge! I didn't even get close to including all of the parts in the prompt (there's so many!), but this was so interesting to try. I don't know the full story behind this sentence, but I really want to know now... Thanks Nina!!
The letter hid in the bookshelf and snuck its way into the box, slipped out at the unpacking and whispered its secrets like a snake’s rattle, slipped out like a long-held breath and she whirled into a knowing on this third day of her orphaning, a knowing so long delayed, the thin page shaking in her hand and her mother’s lost voice shimmering, crisp and even, with only the tap of the envelope flitting to the tile floor beside her knees and the caustic clock ticking in the shocked silence (turn the music on, dear, mom would say) and she bent her body over the box, gasping and grateful: You knew, knew me. You knew.
Amazing! I am swept up and like something caught in a current--though willingly so--I travel along. First I'm charmed by the letter, its agency, its slyness. I loved "whispered its secrets like a snake's rattle" and "slipped out like a long-held breath." We move to the protagonist who finds the letter and her mother's lost voice. Such good pacing here with balance "crisp and even." The lovely alliteration "caustic clock" and the echo of the "c" with "ticking." The assonance of "clock" and "shocked." Beautiful! I love the mom's voice coming in through the parenthetical. More alliteration with bent/body and gasping/grateful. All of it building to the finale and the refrain.
So great, Robin! I had an experience somewhat like this when about three days after my mother’s death I checked my phone messages and there she was, saying something I had originally paid no attention at all to two weeks previously, but now I hung on every word, knowing this would be the last time I heard her voice, realizing she was giving me a clue or a key to unlock a palimpsest of doorways into the past, present and future, knowingly or unknowingly, maybe both.
I know! It took me a while to analyze it. So much style! I feel the playfulness in the writing despite the subject matter. Which is interesting and works against, in some ways, the syntactic symbolism. My comments were already too long, but I also like particular word choices, such as "flames living on my calves"--living is fantastic because it's so original. And the "dull" teenagers.
Aug 26, 2023·edited Aug 26, 2023Liked by Nina Schuyler
I can’t believe it took me a week to find the time to try this! Here goes:
After four nights alone in the snowy wilderness without so much as a blanket the cold morphs from an inert force into a rabid wrestler tossing me from drift to ravine, pinning me relentlessly in place until I am somehow able to writhe away breathless and shivery with all my puny mute force out from the pathetic shelter on the uphill side of the bole of a hemlock, casting aside dreams of cheeseburgers and chicken soup, the cunning cold seeping now from my frozen toes up ankles calves and thighs toward the core of what was once my being, replacing dreams of food and drink with fantasies of planes and choppers floating safely and effortlessly over mountains cliffs and avalanche chutes, the pilots calm, their thermoses filled with hot coffee that keeps their inner thighs ever so warm, always in radio contact, while the other tenth of my numbing diminishing consciousness repeats mindlessly how could you have allowed this to happen, how did you allow this to happen? How? Why? How?
So good! I love how alive and relentless the cold is in this sentence. It begins as an inert force, then turns into a rabid wrestler (such a great image), then come the adjectival phrases, tossing/pinning. The narrator becomes the subject and I think he/she is going to escape, but the cunning cold returns! With that, the images change, the narrator's fantasy from food to warmth. Then the desperate questions at the end, which move this tone from somewhat humorous to terror.
Love this, David! Particularly the contrasting and quick phrases and images of cheeseburgers and chicken soup vs. the cunning (great adjective), seeping cold and then the planes and choppers and thermoses of hot coffee and warm inner thighs. So visceral, so urgent, which make the final questions deafening...
It's so inspiring to read the responses to the exercises. And you never know when and how the exercises will slip into your writing. The other day I was working on a short story and wasn't sure where a sentence was going and then, in came a parenthetical, the voice of a different character slipped in.
Resentment of the apprentices wiggled and resentment maneuvered while he tried to repent, attacked in a formation of words and climbed the Institute’s walls like leeches, attacked with blood-sucking words and he woke up an enemy of the people dragged out of his office, an enemy of the people dressed in yesterday’s dignity, walking past silent secretaries looking sideways fixing on tiled walls slimy with ink (or is it blood) holding his head high buttoning his fly a blow to the skull stumbling under blows to the skull the shoulders the back of the knees pains like bullet wounds of a war hero in a furious storm and him shouting where is the police commissar? Where? Where is my bodyguard?
Fantastic! I loved "silent secretaries looking sideways fixing on the tiled walls" and that parenthetical creates a different voice, possibly a different subject, and tone via a question. The punctuation drops off (no commas) which makes the flurry of violence feel like it's happening fast, without pause, like in a fever -- "the skull the shoulders the back of the knees pain like bullet wounds." One unclear part is whether it should be he HAD woken up an enemy. It felt like the resentment of the apprentices, which is your first subject, is in response to the second subject, he, having woken up an enemy. But maybe I'm not reading this correctly. I love the shouting at the end and the sense of fear because it isn't a command but questions--where is the police commissar? Where? Where is my bodyguard?
Thank you, Nina. My husband has often pointed out that I sometimes write from inside my head where the nuances are clear to me, but not to my readers. Now I can see how "he woke up an enemy of the people" can cause confusion. Perhaps it should have been "and he found himself branded overnight an enemy of the people." What I had in mind was that he stayed in the office trying to repent with no knowledge that the appretices had already fixed the label of "enemy of the people" on him. It's always great to get your comments and to take a second look!
Yes, super challenging but made (slightly) easier by the break down steps (thank you!!). Here's an attempt - didn't get all the techniques in there yet....a start:
A peach blushed under the sun yielded to my touch, fuzzed flesh along my tongue, slipped its skin beneath my teeth as if shimmying from an unzipped skirt, gushed against my throat like a pressure suddenly released and I felt a sudden pang of sorrow, a sharp pain in the chest, a carved and hollowed hurt, I felt regret, I felt nostalgic for all the love created and consumed to feed the hunger in my mind, my mind's eye blinkered, busted, bewitched by need and fruitful fancy, (he hadn't loved her, never that way), a spell of silent wishing to satiate a heart gone swollen, gone sour, a disconnected connection fermented to going going gone.
Beautiful! There is a strong contrast between the sensuality of the peach and the mind and its different hunger. I agree with David--that line, "slipped its skin..." is unique and stands out. I find that the string of verbs adds so much energy to the sentence: blushed, yielded, fuzzed, slipped, gushed. I like the repetition of "I felt" because it creates one interpretation that the narrator can't quite put into words what he/she is feeling. Then the parenthetical point of view feels like another storyline--it's so cool to weave it in this way! Thank you for sending me this sentence! I learned a lot.
Thanks for reading Nina and for this lovely feedback. And thank you for taking Jarman's sentence on, it's a doozie. The whole story is excellent really. I often return to read other stories in Nineteen Knives.
I'm going to order the collection! Thank you for recommending it.
I love the parallel hungers, and how the bite into the 🍑 brings all this emotion to the fore. I especially loved, “slipped its skin beneath my teeth as if shimmying from an unzipped skirt,” which brings the sensuousness of food and love together in a startling and instantly recognizable manner!
Thanks for reading and sharing your impressions David - I'm still wondering if the syntax of Jarman's sentence can only be applied to a description of something explosive/exploding and whether the approach(es) holds for softer scenes...
We can only find out by trying them on.
Wow, quite a challenge! I didn't even get close to including all of the parts in the prompt (there's so many!), but this was so interesting to try. I don't know the full story behind this sentence, but I really want to know now... Thanks Nina!!
The letter hid in the bookshelf and snuck its way into the box, slipped out at the unpacking and whispered its secrets like a snake’s rattle, slipped out like a long-held breath and she whirled into a knowing on this third day of her orphaning, a knowing so long delayed, the thin page shaking in her hand and her mother’s lost voice shimmering, crisp and even, with only the tap of the envelope flitting to the tile floor beside her knees and the caustic clock ticking in the shocked silence (turn the music on, dear, mom would say) and she bent her body over the box, gasping and grateful: You knew, knew me. You knew.
Amazing! I am swept up and like something caught in a current--though willingly so--I travel along. First I'm charmed by the letter, its agency, its slyness. I loved "whispered its secrets like a snake's rattle" and "slipped out like a long-held breath." We move to the protagonist who finds the letter and her mother's lost voice. Such good pacing here with balance "crisp and even." The lovely alliteration "caustic clock" and the echo of the "c" with "ticking." The assonance of "clock" and "shocked." Beautiful! I love the mom's voice coming in through the parenthetical. More alliteration with bent/body and gasping/grateful. All of it building to the finale and the refrain.
Thanks so much!
Wow!
So great, Robin! I had an experience somewhat like this when about three days after my mother’s death I checked my phone messages and there she was, saying something I had originally paid no attention at all to two weeks previously, but now I hung on every word, knowing this would be the last time I heard her voice, realizing she was giving me a clue or a key to unlock a palimpsest of doorways into the past, present and future, knowingly or unknowingly, maybe both.
Thanks David, and that’s an beautiful story from your own life, a nice connection with your mom after her passing, and a gift, I’m sure.
It was quite astonishing, but also the perfect farewell.
That sentence is an erupting tsunami! Love it!!
I know! It took me a while to analyze it. So much style! I feel the playfulness in the writing despite the subject matter. Which is interesting and works against, in some ways, the syntactic symbolism. My comments were already too long, but I also like particular word choices, such as "flames living on my calves"--living is fantastic because it's so original. And the "dull" teenagers.
I can’t believe it took me a week to find the time to try this! Here goes:
After four nights alone in the snowy wilderness without so much as a blanket the cold morphs from an inert force into a rabid wrestler tossing me from drift to ravine, pinning me relentlessly in place until I am somehow able to writhe away breathless and shivery with all my puny mute force out from the pathetic shelter on the uphill side of the bole of a hemlock, casting aside dreams of cheeseburgers and chicken soup, the cunning cold seeping now from my frozen toes up ankles calves and thighs toward the core of what was once my being, replacing dreams of food and drink with fantasies of planes and choppers floating safely and effortlessly over mountains cliffs and avalanche chutes, the pilots calm, their thermoses filled with hot coffee that keeps their inner thighs ever so warm, always in radio contact, while the other tenth of my numbing diminishing consciousness repeats mindlessly how could you have allowed this to happen, how did you allow this to happen? How? Why? How?
So good! I love how alive and relentless the cold is in this sentence. It begins as an inert force, then turns into a rabid wrestler (such a great image), then come the adjectival phrases, tossing/pinning. The narrator becomes the subject and I think he/she is going to escape, but the cunning cold returns! With that, the images change, the narrator's fantasy from food to warmth. Then the desperate questions at the end, which move this tone from somewhat humorous to terror.
Ooh David, I really feel the cold and the tension in this - I’m worried but hopeful the narrator will make it to some warm safety.
Love this, David! Particularly the contrasting and quick phrases and images of cheeseburgers and chicken soup vs. the cunning (great adjective), seeping cold and then the planes and choppers and thermoses of hot coffee and warm inner thighs. So visceral, so urgent, which make the final questions deafening...
Thank you so much! I love that more of us are trying the exercises. Nina‘s choices are so inspiring!!
It's so inspiring to read the responses to the exercises. And you never know when and how the exercises will slip into your writing. The other day I was working on a short story and wasn't sure where a sentence was going and then, in came a parenthetical, the voice of a different character slipped in.
Absolutely!
This was tough! But here is my try.
Resentment of the apprentices wiggled and resentment maneuvered while he tried to repent, attacked in a formation of words and climbed the Institute’s walls like leeches, attacked with blood-sucking words and he woke up an enemy of the people dragged out of his office, an enemy of the people dressed in yesterday’s dignity, walking past silent secretaries looking sideways fixing on tiled walls slimy with ink (or is it blood) holding his head high buttoning his fly a blow to the skull stumbling under blows to the skull the shoulders the back of the knees pains like bullet wounds of a war hero in a furious storm and him shouting where is the police commissar? Where? Where is my bodyguard?
Xiaoyan,
Fantastic! I loved "silent secretaries looking sideways fixing on the tiled walls" and that parenthetical creates a different voice, possibly a different subject, and tone via a question. The punctuation drops off (no commas) which makes the flurry of violence feel like it's happening fast, without pause, like in a fever -- "the skull the shoulders the back of the knees pain like bullet wounds." One unclear part is whether it should be he HAD woken up an enemy. It felt like the resentment of the apprentices, which is your first subject, is in response to the second subject, he, having woken up an enemy. But maybe I'm not reading this correctly. I love the shouting at the end and the sense of fear because it isn't a command but questions--where is the police commissar? Where? Where is my bodyguard?
Thank you, Nina. My husband has often pointed out that I sometimes write from inside my head where the nuances are clear to me, but not to my readers. Now I can see how "he woke up an enemy of the people" can cause confusion. Perhaps it should have been "and he found himself branded overnight an enemy of the people." What I had in mind was that he stayed in the office trying to repent with no knowledge that the appretices had already fixed the label of "enemy of the people" on him. It's always great to get your comments and to take a second look!
Beautiful. Scary. All too real.
Thank you, David!