Knife.
I slid it in my pocket and
caught her accusing gaze.
“Like you’d actually use that,” her eyebrow rose.
“If anything happened, I like to know I brought my knife. Backup plans are good.”
“You would knife something?
Someone?”
“I would do a lot if the situation arose.
At least, I hope I would.”
Her chin lifted a little and her lips pursed. Displeased.
Pistol.
When the movie was over she asked if it had scared me.
“No, they wouldn’t really kill the main character.”
“They do sometimes.”
I caught the defensive tone of her voice.
They had pulled her in. “Yeah,
sometimes.”
She picked at her nail bed.
Irritated.
Two letters.
The first one came to me on the darkest day of the year. When I opened it, tears poured out.
I replied in the second, and was left hanging. Suspended forever without resolution.
I stared at my empty palms. Lost.
A pressed flower.
It was tucked in my Louisa May Alcott. The book was a gift, the flower a memory.
I took it out and twirled it between my fingers, lost in thought.
I got up with an effort. I released the flower from my grip, and it floated to the bottom of the wastebasket. Finished.
Your discovery of a pattern in these random items is impressive--or, rather, your imposition of a pattern on randomness is writerly in the extreme. You almost always know what you're up to and can calculate your effects.
ReplyDeleteI'm feeling a little shy at offering suggestions, advice, or criticism because you are so obviously living in the mind of a writer. But, for what it's worth, here are three or four things I consider missteps in what is otherwise fine material. But, be aware, my opinion can be regarded or disregarded as you like.
"...with an effort" and maybe even "I got up with an effort" could be discarded with no great loss. Ditto "lost in thought," "her accusing gaze," and "her eyebrow rose."
Actually, the "I got up with an effort" line makes more sense in the original version, before editing. I took out a bit of that sentence and switched some things around a little, so you're right, it's not very necessary any more.
ReplyDeleteYou've talked about my "actor cues" before - the physical attribute thingys like eyebrows rising, and accusing gazes. Somehow I want to paint the scene, and I probably do use those too much, in my fiction as well as here in class. But I want the mood to come across, and I suppose that is me taking the easy way out. Now I just have to figure out the right way and perfect it. Easier said than done...
Understand that I come from a tradition of less-is-more craft. That is very much the modernist credo, but modernism in fiction has given way to post-modern and other varieties of fictional deployment. At my age I don't expect my tastes or opinions will change very much.
DeleteGiven all that, I'm always a believer in letting the reader do some work, create imaginary worlds under the guidance (but not under the lash) of the writer.
Those cues belong to a sort of writing no longer much practiced, though styles change and everything comes back around, given enough time.
Watch a silent movie, a good one. Note the acting. We consider that sort of acting awful: overdone, mugging, unsubtle. But it derived from stage acting where exaggeration was the only way an actor could project to the back of the theater.
When talking pictures came in, people began to realize that a good actor could do everything with tiny changes in his lips, eyes, posture. The moviegoer was thinking, 'This is going to make him angry, then sad....' And sure enough, like magic, they read the tiny signs on his face that confirmed the parallel narrative in the moviegoer's mind.
Moderation in all things, as the philosopher said. My writing probably is too stark, too muted, too understated--not moderate in its moderation!
So, what's the better way to get across an 'accusing gaze' and so on? IMO through action and conflict, through plot, through dialogue.
ReplyDeleteThe last line of each vignette does what you want--without stage directions, you describe an action and what you describe is just enough to allow the reader to fill in the rest. I think you are creating 'objective correlatives'--not quite the same thing as metaphors or symbols.
ReplyDeleteThese work beautifully:
* Her chin lifted a little and her lips pursed. Displeased.
* She picked at her nail bed. Irritated.
* I stared at my empty palms. Lost.
* I released the flower from my grip, and it floated to the bottom of the wastebasket. Finished.
"When talking pictures came in, people began to realize that a good actor could do everything with tiny changes in his lips, eyes, posture."
ReplyDeleteI should have written: ""When talking pictures came in, people began to realize that a good actor could play to the camera, intimately--not to the last row of seats in a theatre--and could do everything with tiny changes in his lips, eyes, posture.