Oh Evie, this is fantastic. So sensual, so rhythmic I felt hypnotized by the end. You pull me under with each turn of phrase, but then yank me back out with something raw, something needing attention. Like this paragraph…so freaking great! “Now I use a saucer, never having understood its purpose before. Grandmother always quietly furious, head shaking, muttering disapproval. Would she be happy now? Never happy. I am not good at happy - how to find it, keep it, bestow it.”
The sensory details in this essay are rich but my attention was snagged by "I am not good at happy". Perhaps you have written what is in the heart of all readers, or at least this one.
Thank you Donna. It’s a thing I think many of us feel a lot of pressure around. We are sold an idea of ease being synonymous with happiness, but really I find it is work. It takes practice, and determination like every other worthwhile pursuit in life.
This reminds me of an open-awareness meditation - I love that there is SO much imagery in just one moment of time. From the sights, felt senses, sounds, even the image of your grandmother "always quietly furious" - nice!
I’m glad you enjoyed it. I found it was really fun drilling into a moment, there is always so much to notice and as writers attention is an invaluable tool we should practice welding.
“I sit pooled in the warm lamp light, softer - forgiving. Facing the window.” I debated between this and the moment we first see the cat as my favorite of these wonderful sensory images—the narrator pooling, the cat puddling. Beautiful.
Happy beginning of winter!
(Add a playlist to this and tag Caravan Writers Collective, and this could become part of our summer - winter Down Under - routine/playlist collection. Just a thought, in case that happens to call.) 💕
There’s a ton of evocative, sensory prose here that brought this scene to life, but my favorite snippet, bar none, is “the puddle of black fur”.
When winter actually comes, I’ll look forward to reading your description of it as well.
Thank you! My cats are a source of endless inspiration. And winter is here, so I'll get working on the follow up.
We’re in opposite hemispheres! Haha, that makes perfect sense now. :)
Ahhh, yes. I have been very jealous reading of all the northern hemisphere summer frolicking
I love the immediacy of this. Just pure presence.
Thank you, that is very kind.
Oh yes, the soundtrack was PERFECT!!
Now I'm in a puddle listening.
Oh Evie, this is fantastic. So sensual, so rhythmic I felt hypnotized by the end. You pull me under with each turn of phrase, but then yank me back out with something raw, something needing attention. Like this paragraph…so freaking great! “Now I use a saucer, never having understood its purpose before. Grandmother always quietly furious, head shaking, muttering disapproval. Would she be happy now? Never happy. I am not good at happy - how to find it, keep it, bestow it.”
Thank you. That is high praise. I really enjoyed playing with sentence structure to create rhythm and disrupt it.
The sensory details in this essay are rich but my attention was snagged by "I am not good at happy". Perhaps you have written what is in the heart of all readers, or at least this one.
Thank you Donna. It’s a thing I think many of us feel a lot of pressure around. We are sold an idea of ease being synonymous with happiness, but really I find it is work. It takes practice, and determination like every other worthwhile pursuit in life.
Yes! Sometimes it seems the concept of happy is something that’s shovelled down our throats by our culture.
This reminds me of an open-awareness meditation - I love that there is SO much imagery in just one moment of time. From the sights, felt senses, sounds, even the image of your grandmother "always quietly furious" - nice!
I’m glad you enjoyed it. I found it was really fun drilling into a moment, there is always so much to notice and as writers attention is an invaluable tool we should practice welding.
Beautiful Chicken. Your way with words is divine. Fragmented. Reverent. Attentive. And in awe.
I have to agree wit both Michael and Holly.
“I sit pooled in the warm lamp light”
And “the puddle of black fur”
— you are such a metaphor master. :)
Thank you! Your praise is always my favourite. I write only to impress you hehe
Well, job well done my dear :)
“I sit pooled in the warm lamp light, softer - forgiving. Facing the window.” I debated between this and the moment we first see the cat as my favorite of these wonderful sensory images—the narrator pooling, the cat puddling. Beautiful.
Happy beginning of winter!
(Add a playlist to this and tag Caravan Writers Collective, and this could become part of our summer - winter Down Under - routine/playlist collection. Just a thought, in case that happens to call.) 💕
Thank you! That’s very sweet.
And that absolutely calls! I would love to do that! I’ll get listening and compiling straight away.