This was hard to read, but I couldn't stop reading. Powerful. Emotive. Gut wrenching. I was in it. This will stick with me for a long time. Well done. 💜
Whoa. This was a flame-thrower of angst and I loved every word of it! The pent up rage, the litany of offenses, the dismissiveness of the philandering, drunk husband. I love how close she keeps her cards, how she can see through his lies, how she slips her finger into the coffee mug at the end and tastes the sweet victory of knowing. She holds the power now. Really great, visceral writing.
“I’m a writer, my stories are tattooed on my arms, my legs, my belly, my laptop, on the insides of my eyelids. I deposit my dirty laundry everywhere, draped over the shower screen, the smog-encrusted balcony railing, the iron balustrade.” One of the many passages I loved.
This I such a beautiful and sad piece, Jo! I felt the narrator’s longing for change meeting up against the way change can feel frustratingly impossible, no way to start.
There were about a hundred lines in this that I literally clapped at, but I stood up and clapped for “I’m not so fond of cruel, either. It hit me, thwack, a bird smashing into my (flat) chest.” 👏👌
A devastating portrait of longing and disappointment, and how-did-we-get-here. So much to admire here, so many great lines. Two of my favorites:
“you’ll ask how I managed to see those messages on your phone but that’s beside the point (you were passed out, I used your face id to unlock it, go ahead and judge me).”
And
“plunging a forkful of dauphinoise potatoes into a slot in his beard where I supposed his mouth to be.”
I love the wry voice and the repetitive cadence, like an incantation. How we worry over and over the same things, hoping they will change.
Such a sad and gorgeous story at the same time. Because we can feel this person living and breathing this reality. How do we get ourselves into these situations? - the prose seems to scream. Beautiful details that help us consider the way things may have gotten so bad for both of them.
Thank you. It became much angrier in the second draft. It felt important that she be angry, on the inside. Because that's where arguments happen first!
This was hard to read, but I couldn't stop reading. Powerful. Emotive. Gut wrenching. I was in it. This will stick with me for a long time. Well done. 💜
Thank you, Meg. I needed that tonight.
Whoa. This was a flame-thrower of angst and I loved every word of it! The pent up rage, the litany of offenses, the dismissiveness of the philandering, drunk husband. I love how close she keeps her cards, how she can see through his lies, how she slips her finger into the coffee mug at the end and tastes the sweet victory of knowing. She holds the power now. Really great, visceral writing.
Thank you! I love your reading of it. It's often the writer who knows less than the reader!
“I’m a writer, my stories are tattooed on my arms, my legs, my belly, my laptop, on the insides of my eyelids. I deposit my dirty laundry everywhere, draped over the shower screen, the smog-encrusted balcony railing, the iron balustrade.” One of the many passages I loved.
This I such a beautiful and sad piece, Jo! I felt the narrator’s longing for change meeting up against the way change can feel frustratingly impossible, no way to start.
That was my excerpt, too.
Thank Holly. I really love that one too. Longing is something I love to read and write so I'm pleased you felt it too.
There were about a hundred lines in this that I literally clapped at, but I stood up and clapped for “I’m not so fond of cruel, either. It hit me, thwack, a bird smashing into my (flat) chest.” 👏👌
Oh Chloe, I actually thought of you as I wrote that line! I'm so pleased it found you.
I love this, Jo. You get in the flow and you stay in it. That is the art.
A devastating portrait of longing and disappointment, and how-did-we-get-here. So much to admire here, so many great lines. Two of my favorites:
“you’ll ask how I managed to see those messages on your phone but that’s beside the point (you were passed out, I used your face id to unlock it, go ahead and judge me).”
And
“plunging a forkful of dauphinoise potatoes into a slot in his beard where I supposed his mouth to be.”
I love the wry voice and the repetitive cadence, like an incantation. How we worry over and over the same things, hoping they will change.
Thank you. It felt so visceral when I was writing it, like I was spitting out the words.
“They have the best aestheticians.”
Great line!
Ha, thanks, Karl! I can imagine someone saying it.
Such a sad and gorgeous story at the same time. Because we can feel this person living and breathing this reality. How do we get ourselves into these situations? - the prose seems to scream. Beautiful details that help us consider the way things may have gotten so bad for both of them.
Thank you. It became much angrier in the second draft. It felt important that she be angry, on the inside. Because that's where arguments happen first!
Just read this out loud to my husband, who sat riveted all the way through. So was I. Fantastic.
Thanks, Jules, and hubby!