Trev stood washing dishes, looking, she thought, like a thoroughbred in the gate, lathered of an energy usually reserved for more quiet places, where each moment was seen in muscle taut and the dance of shadow and light from shoulder to glute. She watched his movement of hand on dish as of breath releasing, from above, and the tightening of triceps were of the edge approaching, and his short hair bristling with the dew of creation creating. With an involuntary intake of breath, her curves seemed to announce themselves as curves to be handled, and seen and taken with the verve of Spring rising, of curves flush with need, want, desire.
Rog: (walks into the kitchen) Whacha doing Yul?
Yul: Nothing.
7 comments:
When I reread my own work, here is a sample of what I see and why it is so hard to see the writing as you guys do.
Take the phrase "where each moment was seen . . . ." When I read that line, I stop and wonder of the lyrical melody, if I haven't missed the mark and if a rephrasing would be more poetical, something like this: "where moments were seen . . . ."
So I agonize. Is it:
(1) where each moment was seen (feels chunky and disjointed like a centipede trying to walk over a step)
or, is it
(2) where moments were seen (feels more like a flow)
or
do I take a editorial axe to that dang 'to be' verb, always so weak they are and replace it with
(3) where moments danced in muscle taut, of shadow and light from shoulder to glute.
So when I say I wish I could experience the postings as you guys do, this is a sample of what I mean. I suppose the feeling is similar with contractors when they look upon the house build versus the potential buyer seeing it for the first time.
PS: and even on the third example, my mind immediately wonders if the present tense (dance) isn't stronger than that softish past tense (danced)
Masterful in a word. Supremely skillful employment of sensual imagery and language to create the very enticing and real act of watching, watching him through such appreciative eyes becoming even more delicious when one realizes it is Yul. Fan*tastic.
Love the domesticity of the scene for a number of reasons, the simplicity of the act, his concentration and commitment to the task at hand and the lack of awareness (one presumes at least:-) of being watched, the energy he deposits and that which she observes in his stillness, reserves so to speak, I loved the likening to a thoroughbred at the gate. Less buttons buttoned post post. ;-) Brilliant presentation!!
Now, my dearest Autumn, reading your comments is a completely different matter. Sublime is the word that comes to mind. I love the idea of watching when what is watched is unaware. And when the one watching has the ability, as Yul in this post, to appreciate what is seen, well, then the chapter takes flight and the letters slip away and what remains is the image.
As I was walking today, the thought occurred to me that when one reads what I write, they are looking at a third translation from the original. Here is what I mean:
(1) the original impulse lies somewhere within the emotional psyche and every chapter originates from this place within me and in this state is as pure as I know it
(2) from that initial impulse, images arise and also voices, be it narrator or dialogue, but this stage or translation is much like a movie in my mind--not quite as pure as the step above, but pretty dang fantastic, in my mind :-D
(3) the so very rough transition from the "movie" to words and this is where I feel the greatest danger in a poor translation
For me, a chapter succeeds to the extend that the words fall away to images and those images move one to see and hear and most importantly, feel. A kind of reverse engineering of the creative process and in this way, writer and reader are like the tide, coming and then receding.
As always, your very kind words are deeply appreciated. Thank you. :-)
You wrote recently of having gone back to 1944 and being pleasantly surprised. It would be, I think, the same with a chapter such as this, you would with distance see the mastery of your writing as we do upon reading, and though you might still question whether where moments were it should have been, the loveliness of the whole will delight.
Having the talent you have, and I've seen you do this, offer forth several alternatives until one is dizzy with the possibility and having to consider each at length for every alternative has its own merits. It is the drawback of being as good as you are, I read perfection and yet I know your writing well enough to know, you can perfect upon perfection several times over.
I'll keep this short (hadn't seen your response before my second comment) saying only your likening to the tide is reflective, superb and that the amount of feeling evoked on the third translation says something not only for your skill but for the force of the impulse
I do so like the impulse. And I like the way you handle my impulse with your comments, as if playing a musical instrument--this is how it feels to read of you on The Story. So open your shore, and feel the tide a coming. :-D
:-D
Happy evening to you, Poppet, x
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