I'm thrilled they were helpful!
I can't wait to see the final story. Please do send it along.
ETA: P-C, the reason I liked the mention of the leashed child in this story is that I thought it played well into a feeling of being trapped or led around that is prevalent throughout the rest of Deb's piece. Also worked on the level that the mother is a tad controlling and feels a need to hold tightly to her children and to the idea of family. Even if that wasn't your intent, Deb, that was why I commented.
ION, I must figure out my lesson plan tomorrow for my juniors STAT.
Oh, I didn't not like the leashed child. It just conjured up doggie images for me, since I wasn't used to seeing children on leashes, which, apparently, Deb is. I'm all cool with the metaphorical implications and whatnot.
(loving this conversation muchly)
(eating Mexican food)
(checking messages before trying to FINISH THE FUCKING STORY)
Kristin, sj, P-C, anyone who's been beta-reading, I've just written the big penultimate scene and I have to go out and a NEED A BETA.
OK. In email, as part of, because it's a chapter, not the whole thing.
Whoops! Think I forgot to cross-post. You'd think I'd never miss a chance for more validation!
Here's last week's:
dedication
Today her nails are black and white. Striped, with some jewel. I dunno, I’m not into it. But she is seventeen, and beautiful, and clearly is. Her fingers are fluid, she’s definitely improving. But those nails just keep clacking against the fretboard.
I don’t say anything, but I remember buying my first guitar. A girl guitarist? How novel! Radical! Quaint! "The first thing is to cut those nails." I did. But beauty might mean more to her than it does to me, and music less.
So I’m a little surprised when she asks, "Have you got a clipper?" She lops them off mercilessly, little black and white stripes falling into the trash can. After that, the scalework goes much better.
And two for this week:
unknot
“Do you still love her?”
“Did I ever? I don’t know.”
“Does it matter to you if you ever did?”
“It used to matter. But now?”
“You left her.”
“Yes. I chose.”
“And she’s angry.”
“She was always angry. You remember.”
“I remember. I remember she was angry at me.”
“At you? You never did anything to her.”
“Didn’t I?”
“Did you?”
“I’ll change the subject. What are you going to do now?”
“I’m going to make my life.”
“And what about me?”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you love me?”
Her stomach twists as she waits for his reply.
---
And inspired by...
"Well, Henry," said the county attorney facetiously, "at least we found out that she was not going to quilt it. She was going to--what is it you call it, ladies?"
Mrs. Hale's hand was against the pocket of her coat.
"We call it--knot it, Mr. Henderson."
- A Jury of Her Peers Susan Glaspell
---
We call it--knot it.
Did you sing in the choir, Minnie Foster?
Did you wear blue ribbons on your gown?
Did you open up your throat and let it out?
Did you marry young and lovely, Minnie Foster?
Did your candle flicker and go dim?
Did you finally close your eyes on him?
Did your caged bird sing, Minnie Foster?
Did it bring you through another winter storm?
Did you weep over its still and twisted form?
Did you quilt or knot it, Minnie Foster?
Did you slip the rope around his neck in sleep?
Did your stillness bring the stillness of the deep?
Deb-backflung, and off to bed for me. Late night last night.
Liese, you're so creative tonight! My brain is swimming in words. I like the guitar one especially. I played violin/viola more than 15 years, and I never had long nails. Music over beauty. It was an obvious choice for me too.
Liese, you're so creative tonight!
Heh. Thanks, but actually just catching up posting here too, and also having the Day of Work Avoidance. Got a good bit done, despite it.
