Oh, that's so kind. I'm happy it's valuable to you, happy that this passion of mine has found a fit in the world. And fantastic use of two "as if" clauses. And the variation in your sentence lengths.
I second this sentiment. Every Monday millions of workers go back to their various offices where coworkers ask that cliched question: do anything exciting this weekend? If anybody asks, I'm ready. I read a stunning sentence.
I love it!! Wow them, wow them, so their jaw drops, and they hear language again, not the dead language of cliche, but the language of music and rhythm. You go!
The vile act—slicing through her supple skin, then her pulsating arteries and organs, one by bloody one, until landing ominously deep in her marrow to a most bone-chilling sound—stopped them dead in their tracks, as if hacking the girl to a heap of human pulp could ever change anything, as if all this vitriol could ever stop her.
The mid-branching sentence adds its own dose of tension here. You make the reader wait--in a good way--for the action of the vile act. Implicit in this sentence is the past: what is the motivation? What has occurred in the past to lead to this vile act? Then there is the nod to the future: as if this act could "change anything," as well as "as if all this vitriol could ever stop her." So powerful and gruesome!
This is a new type of thinking for me but I love the idea of this challenge and so taking a crack at it.
The suppression of his desire to make her laugh, a desire that first drew him to her eleven years ago despite his terrible shyness, a desire as urgent as the need to breath and that had altered the direction of his life to one of greater possibilities, was ultimately impossible for him, as if funerals were a new territory for them to speak this most intimate language, as if his love for her could be best confirmed by making her laugh in a crowd of mourners.
Such a great sentence! As Kara notes, you weave in the past so smoothly, organically--those 11 years together. And, as Kara notes, we have a sense of those 11 years as being full, of "greater possibilities," and from that, I interpret that their relationship has been good. I love that he can't suppress this desire to make her laugh. It made me laugh. And then I laughed more because they're at a funeral and there is the antithesis between the laughing protagonist and his partner and the crowd of mourners. So good!
Captivating! While only two points are referenced--now and eleven years ago--your use of language provides a gap-filling fullness, an illusion I know more about the couple than I likely actually do. Great command of time and intrigue. I could visualize the scene.
Silverview, by le carré; in chapter 2 alone, there are 2 one-sentence paragraphs that are beautifully written , both each respectively describe a character
Nina, what a wonderful session to end the year as we bridge the past and the future. Happy 2024 to you. Here's my try:
The fumble in the dim hours of tomorrow, which her milk child would inevitably have without her, small fingers warm and sticky on the porcelain buttons she was sewing, pierced the woman’s heart, as if the child reached for her breast and she pulled away, as if she alone was to blame for this tragedy of separation.
I love how we are deep in the character's psychology and the reader is closely collecting the details to figure it out. The mid-branching element helps to create tension and delay this sorting out. I love "milk child" and then the clue: "would inevitably have without her." I'm on high alert with the reader question: why? what has happened? Then you pull in tight to the child's small fingers, warm and sticky. The sensory details overwhelm the protagonist and the reader now is fully emotionally engaged. We are in this moment. Then that word "pierced" echoed for me the needle and her sewing. Her thoughts have pierced her. And the two "as if" hit the pain twice. We are left with her immense guilt.
Thank you, Nina. I'm so glad you push us deeper into the psychology of the characters since I'm trying to grow in that area (my fiction writing has often been criticised as lacking emotional engagement).
Usually when you receive that kind of feedback, you want to look closely at whether you've had your characters respond to external events. For instance, someone says something, does something, how does the character respond? And it doesn't have to be dialogue. You can have an internal response. In the Millhauser sentence, he remembers he left his library book and he is imagining what his former lover will do.
Opening in the future with the mother predicting life without her baby then branching to the tender moment in the present between the two is masterful as is the cliffhanger ending. Strong imagery. The pain is palpable.
A Very Happy New Year. Your site was recommended over at George Saunders’ forum. Fabulous. So I bought your book straight away. More about metaphors and similes and shorter sentences as well please. Will upgrade to paid membership in due course. Thanks so muxh for this fascinating reading experience.
The anticipation of the windchimes, which would rouse her gently, making her fingers hover over her phone as she decided whether to turn it off right away or let it ring, made him giddy with excitement, as if he deserved special mention for selecting this ringtone, as if it secured him a privileged position in her airspace.
As if wishing you a happy new year could express my gratitude for your eye and ear. As if they could make me see and hear. Maybe. In 2024.
Oh, that's so kind. I'm happy it's valuable to you, happy that this passion of mine has found a fit in the world. And fantastic use of two "as if" clauses. And the variation in your sentence lengths.
I second this sentiment. Every Monday millions of workers go back to their various offices where coworkers ask that cliched question: do anything exciting this weekend? If anybody asks, I'm ready. I read a stunning sentence.
I love it!! Wow them, wow them, so their jaw drops, and they hear language again, not the dead language of cliche, but the language of music and rhythm. You go!
Happy New Year! An attempt . . .
The vile act—slicing through her supple skin, then her pulsating arteries and organs, one by bloody one, until landing ominously deep in her marrow to a most bone-chilling sound—stopped them dead in their tracks, as if hacking the girl to a heap of human pulp could ever change anything, as if all this vitriol could ever stop her.
Kara,
The mid-branching sentence adds its own dose of tension here. You make the reader wait--in a good way--for the action of the vile act. Implicit in this sentence is the past: what is the motivation? What has occurred in the past to lead to this vile act? Then there is the nod to the future: as if this act could "change anything," as well as "as if all this vitriol could ever stop her." So powerful and gruesome!
So much suspense and subtext, Kara. And the violence is visceral...
This is a new type of thinking for me but I love the idea of this challenge and so taking a crack at it.
The suppression of his desire to make her laugh, a desire that first drew him to her eleven years ago despite his terrible shyness, a desire as urgent as the need to breath and that had altered the direction of his life to one of greater possibilities, was ultimately impossible for him, as if funerals were a new territory for them to speak this most intimate language, as if his love for her could be best confirmed by making her laugh in a crowd of mourners.
JG,
Such a great sentence! As Kara notes, you weave in the past so smoothly, organically--those 11 years together. And, as Kara notes, we have a sense of those 11 years as being full, of "greater possibilities," and from that, I interpret that their relationship has been good. I love that he can't suppress this desire to make her laugh. It made me laugh. And then I laughed more because they're at a funeral and there is the antithesis between the laughing protagonist and his partner and the crowd of mourners. So good!
One more thing--the mid-branching sentence creates a great build to whether he can suppress his desire to make her laugh.
Thank you so much! And thank you for sharing this wonderful exercise! I’m new to this substack and am really enjoying it.
Welcome! I'm so glad it's helpful. I promise it will open the door to so many ways of writing the astonishing sentence.
Captivating! While only two points are referenced--now and eleven years ago--your use of language provides a gap-filling fullness, an illusion I know more about the couple than I likely actually do. Great command of time and intrigue. I could visualize the scene.
Thank you. That’s very kind.
“This, I think, is a profound way to awaken the astonishment of being alive”. Lovely.
Silverview, by le carré; in chapter 2 alone, there are 2 one-sentence paragraphs that are beautifully written , both each respectively describe a character
Nina, what a wonderful session to end the year as we bridge the past and the future. Happy 2024 to you. Here's my try:
The fumble in the dim hours of tomorrow, which her milk child would inevitably have without her, small fingers warm and sticky on the porcelain buttons she was sewing, pierced the woman’s heart, as if the child reached for her breast and she pulled away, as if she alone was to blame for this tragedy of separation.
I love how we are deep in the character's psychology and the reader is closely collecting the details to figure it out. The mid-branching element helps to create tension and delay this sorting out. I love "milk child" and then the clue: "would inevitably have without her." I'm on high alert with the reader question: why? what has happened? Then you pull in tight to the child's small fingers, warm and sticky. The sensory details overwhelm the protagonist and the reader now is fully emotionally engaged. We are in this moment. Then that word "pierced" echoed for me the needle and her sewing. Her thoughts have pierced her. And the two "as if" hit the pain twice. We are left with her immense guilt.
Thank you, Nina. I'm so glad you push us deeper into the psychology of the characters since I'm trying to grow in that area (my fiction writing has often been criticised as lacking emotional engagement).
Usually when you receive that kind of feedback, you want to look closely at whether you've had your characters respond to external events. For instance, someone says something, does something, how does the character respond? And it doesn't have to be dialogue. You can have an internal response. In the Millhauser sentence, he remembers he left his library book and he is imagining what his former lover will do.
Yes, internal response is what I'll be trying to work on. Thank you again, and Happy New Year.
Opening in the future with the mother predicting life without her baby then branching to the tender moment in the present between the two is masterful as is the cliffhanger ending. Strong imagery. The pain is palpable.
A Very Happy New Year. Your site was recommended over at George Saunders’ forum. Fabulous. So I bought your book straight away. More about metaphors and similes and shorter sentences as well please. Will upgrade to paid membership in due course. Thanks so muxh for this fascinating reading experience.
The anticipation of the windchimes, which would rouse her gently, making her fingers hover over her phone as she decided whether to turn it off right away or let it ring, made him giddy with excitement, as if he deserved special mention for selecting this ringtone, as if it secured him a privileged position in her airspace.