I felt like I was in your dreams: "And I want to stop the river but I can’t. And I want to understand but I don’t. And I want everything to be clear but it isn’t." And then the brakes are applied suddenly and I'm awake. Who said it today, "you have a gift, Eleanor."
There was a moment in the middle of this story, where I said to myself, "I just love her stream-of-consciousness. I could stand in this stream all day." And in the next moment Carol is standing in a stream, the dye of her suit flowing downstream. So great.
The relativity in morals and ethics that you wrestle with in this piece are so compelling. I honestly don't know what I would do in this situation, and love that your gift of storytelling challenged me in such a way. Thank you.
Thanks so much, Troy. This was a real challenge for me as I related so much to the central character, the striving for control over all situations, the desire to always know. I worked hard to draw out the heart in it, to find the prompt beneath the prompt. I hope I've done them proud.
Hi Troy, just returning to this, because I keep thinking about it, what a great deal it means to me, to any writer, for someone who's work I love to have stood in the river of a story, and this actual river, and really felt it, to have picked out something which was so vivid to me in the writing. It's the epitome of feeling heard, isn't it? To share these visions. There. Said it.
Absolutely! This is why we write. To communicate our visions, to allow others to experience our imaginations, and to connect. Both of your stories blew me way. They are so alive and vibrant, and there is a pulsing energy that just grabs the reader and pulls us along. We always need to know what happens. You're so gifted, and I'm grateful that Substack has introduced me to you and your work!
Gorgeous. Again, I feel like I can see every frame. I particularly love the smooth current of "her" rising... but then contrasted with the messy, feral flashes of the child, rubbing his dirty hands on the rug... the way we do with the land (as developers)... if that makes any sense.
The whole piece does feel like a series of "pulsing question marks".... from the larger client agenda to whether her suit is maroon to whether she is too "fixed" and ultimately her own heart in conflict with itself about the actual "gray" of the assignment.
Thanks Alisa, and yes, I felt I was grappling with a number of conflicts within and without her, as well as with the plot and structure itself. How to tell it, I had to muse on it for a long while before it hit me, and it began with her dream, the river, that flow flowing through her. Also, being an absolute glutton for punishment, I thought, to hell with it, and attempted 1st person present, just to make things extra difficult. How ridiculous. But as Bertus says, I feel like the stretching out of my normal writing patterns has given me another gear.
I've read this twice now and the pacing feels exactly like a current growing stronger, even as it's a-swirl with side currents. So beautifully written. Somehow Eleanor, you wrote the whole piece as one pulsing question mark.
This is what I was aiming at, funnily enough, the same device I pulled from yours, that every aspect, from sentences to structure, is telling the story; so in this case, the pacing echoing the river that she dreams of. I wanted to surround the reader, so that the story was everywhere. So glad you picked up on it, that it works.
I've rewarded myself, at last, with reading this. I love the subversive and immersive qualities, the sing-song recitations of the non-human beings who live on this land that, *quelle surprise*, the Native Americans don't want to protect(!?). I so admire your choice of specific details to dramatize her emotional state - the coffee, the suit, the awful shoes. Her discomfort in the sweltering "cardboard box" office, the trickling "desk toy fountain," especially puny and false in contrast with the river itself. Your note about Gabe Hudson the other day led me to (among many fine pieces) his post about meeting George Saunders in his MFA program, where he received this gem of advice: "The heart is in conflict with itself." I can't think of a better story to illustrate that than this one.
Gosh, thanks so much, Julie. Any response that name checks those two masters has me flushed with the kind of happiness only writing brings. I love that your eye picked out those details - the awful shoes! yes. And the desk toy in contrast to the river. You never know if quiet images will have impact, and when they do, it's more than thrilling; it's the satisfaction of an arrow hitting bullseye.
Beautifully done. I love the internal monologue and its rising momentum (stream into river, as others have said), I love the sensory details, and I love the unresolved ending.
It's funny, because I hesitated (read "wrote and deleted about 5 times") to say that, and even ran it past my ManPerson, because I was afraid that by directly answering your question, I was tacitly agreeing with the praise. Know what I mean? But the truth, as I say, is that I work really hard and I try really hard and, as he pointed out, whatever skills I have, I've always had so the difference between what I could do even ten years ago versus now is purely down to relentless & determined practice. Ugh. Feel sick, etc
Ha, agreeing with praise, the horror! I laugh because I know exactly what you mean, and that’s why I appreciate it so much. Being reminded that true, quality writing typically involves many years of honing and sweating and effort is a tonic. It can seem so effortless, as the reader--queue inner monologue of “you’ll never be able to write like that, why bother” etc. So you speaking to the effort is a bit of a godsend, as someone aspiring 🙏
Okay well I can tell you hand on heart, and my ManPerson and children will back this up, that I am completely fucking demented in my effort. Hashtag laughing & crying at the same time x
I love much about this piece but what really touches me is the way you weave the abstract with the deeply personal making the abstract so immensely compelling. We readers wrestle the conflict with you in our heads but we feel the outcomes in our heart. We get what’s at stake in a deeply personal way.
That's great feedback, Jean, I mean in a useful way, to identify those places where the parts land, and the interconnectedness that makes the piece work as a whole. Thanks very much.
I just want to say thanks. When I read something so smart, so well constructed, so able to subtly examine life without brutally offering some solution, I feel seen and respected as a reader and a person. So thank you so much. Beautiful writing.
It's my pleasure, Jonathon, and thanks for saying so. What you describe - examination without brutal solution - is what I aim at, and that it has the effect of feeling seen and respected means everything to me.
Feels like a chapter from a much longer book that I now have read again out of context and how it suddenly revealed the quality I missed the first time around because then it was so natural, so part of the flow. Some pictures do that. They tell you about what's not on them and that's why they are art and not a snapshot.
Eleanor, this story feels so current, and so timeless. The idea of being pulled between truths and ideals, of being caught in the stream of life flowing around and despite us, and trying to find something solid to plant our feet on is beautifully portrayed in your writing. And leaving us without a solid answer of an ending is exactly what I wanted (and didn't want at the same time), but it feels so right.
I felt like I was in your dreams: "And I want to stop the river but I can’t. And I want to understand but I don’t. And I want everything to be clear but it isn’t." And then the brakes are applied suddenly and I'm awake. Who said it today, "you have a gift, Eleanor."
❤️
There was a moment in the middle of this story, where I said to myself, "I just love her stream-of-consciousness. I could stand in this stream all day." And in the next moment Carol is standing in a stream, the dye of her suit flowing downstream. So great.
The relativity in morals and ethics that you wrestle with in this piece are so compelling. I honestly don't know what I would do in this situation, and love that your gift of storytelling challenged me in such a way. Thank you.
Thanks so much, Troy. This was a real challenge for me as I related so much to the central character, the striving for control over all situations, the desire to always know. I worked hard to draw out the heart in it, to find the prompt beneath the prompt. I hope I've done them proud.
Hi Troy, just returning to this, because I keep thinking about it, what a great deal it means to me, to any writer, for someone who's work I love to have stood in the river of a story, and this actual river, and really felt it, to have picked out something which was so vivid to me in the writing. It's the epitome of feeling heard, isn't it? To share these visions. There. Said it.
Absolutely! This is why we write. To communicate our visions, to allow others to experience our imaginations, and to connect. Both of your stories blew me way. They are so alive and vibrant, and there is a pulsing energy that just grabs the reader and pulls us along. We always need to know what happens. You're so gifted, and I'm grateful that Substack has introduced me to you and your work!
My God, Eleanor, how do you do these magic tricks?! Brilliant.
🙌🏻
Gorgeous. Again, I feel like I can see every frame. I particularly love the smooth current of "her" rising... but then contrasted with the messy, feral flashes of the child, rubbing his dirty hands on the rug... the way we do with the land (as developers)... if that makes any sense.
The whole piece does feel like a series of "pulsing question marks".... from the larger client agenda to whether her suit is maroon to whether she is too "fixed" and ultimately her own heart in conflict with itself about the actual "gray" of the assignment.
Thanks Alisa, and yes, I felt I was grappling with a number of conflicts within and without her, as well as with the plot and structure itself. How to tell it, I had to muse on it for a long while before it hit me, and it began with her dream, the river, that flow flowing through her. Also, being an absolute glutton for punishment, I thought, to hell with it, and attempted 1st person present, just to make things extra difficult. How ridiculous. But as Bertus says, I feel like the stretching out of my normal writing patterns has given me another gear.
I've read this twice now and the pacing feels exactly like a current growing stronger, even as it's a-swirl with side currents. So beautifully written. Somehow Eleanor, you wrote the whole piece as one pulsing question mark.
This is what I was aiming at, funnily enough, the same device I pulled from yours, that every aspect, from sentences to structure, is telling the story; so in this case, the pacing echoing the river that she dreams of. I wanted to surround the reader, so that the story was everywhere. So glad you picked up on it, that it works.
Wow, Eleanor. This is stunning. It flows like the land and the streams.
Thanks so much, Nathan
She’s as real to me as if I knew her. And what a pickle she’s in. Good riddance Jackson
hahaha . love you miss you em
I've rewarded myself, at last, with reading this. I love the subversive and immersive qualities, the sing-song recitations of the non-human beings who live on this land that, *quelle surprise*, the Native Americans don't want to protect(!?). I so admire your choice of specific details to dramatize her emotional state - the coffee, the suit, the awful shoes. Her discomfort in the sweltering "cardboard box" office, the trickling "desk toy fountain," especially puny and false in contrast with the river itself. Your note about Gabe Hudson the other day led me to (among many fine pieces) his post about meeting George Saunders in his MFA program, where he received this gem of advice: "The heart is in conflict with itself." I can't think of a better story to illustrate that than this one.
Gosh, thanks so much, Julie. Any response that name checks those two masters has me flushed with the kind of happiness only writing brings. I love that your eye picked out those details - the awful shoes! yes. And the desk toy in contrast to the river. You never know if quiet images will have impact, and when they do, it's more than thrilling; it's the satisfaction of an arrow hitting bullseye.
Such a powerful telling. Thank you!
Thanks for reading 🙂
Beautifully done. I love the internal monologue and its rising momentum (stream into river, as others have said), I love the sensory details, and I love the unresolved ending.
Thanks, Sal 😊
I loved reading this Eleanor, Carole's discomfort in the tacky office, her observations and realisations are precious.
Thanks, Marika
Jesus, that last paragraph... I don’t know how you do it
Also, though I'm shy of saying it, the truth is I try really, really hard.
I genuinely appreciate you saying that, because all jokes aside it is intimidating, but in the loveliest of ways, so thank you x
It's funny, because I hesitated (read "wrote and deleted about 5 times") to say that, and even ran it past my ManPerson, because I was afraid that by directly answering your question, I was tacitly agreeing with the praise. Know what I mean? But the truth, as I say, is that I work really hard and I try really hard and, as he pointed out, whatever skills I have, I've always had so the difference between what I could do even ten years ago versus now is purely down to relentless & determined practice. Ugh. Feel sick, etc
Ha, agreeing with praise, the horror! I laugh because I know exactly what you mean, and that’s why I appreciate it so much. Being reminded that true, quality writing typically involves many years of honing and sweating and effort is a tonic. It can seem so effortless, as the reader--queue inner monologue of “you’ll never be able to write like that, why bother” etc. So you speaking to the effort is a bit of a godsend, as someone aspiring 🙏
Okay well I can tell you hand on heart, and my ManPerson and children will back this up, that I am completely fucking demented in my effort. Hashtag laughing & crying at the same time x
That’s a beautiful thing. I strive to be as demented as you 😂❤️
Thanks, Chloe x
I love much about this piece but what really touches me is the way you weave the abstract with the deeply personal making the abstract so immensely compelling. We readers wrestle the conflict with you in our heads but we feel the outcomes in our heart. We get what’s at stake in a deeply personal way.
That's great feedback, Jean, I mean in a useful way, to identify those places where the parts land, and the interconnectedness that makes the piece work as a whole. Thanks very much.
I just want to say thanks. When I read something so smart, so well constructed, so able to subtly examine life without brutally offering some solution, I feel seen and respected as a reader and a person. So thank you so much. Beautiful writing.
It's my pleasure, Jonathon, and thanks for saying so. What you describe - examination without brutal solution - is what I aim at, and that it has the effect of feeling seen and respected means everything to me.
Feels like a chapter from a much longer book that I now have read again out of context and how it suddenly revealed the quality I missed the first time around because then it was so natural, so part of the flow. Some pictures do that. They tell you about what's not on them and that's why they are art and not a snapshot.
Eleanor, this story feels so current, and so timeless. The idea of being pulled between truths and ideals, of being caught in the stream of life flowing around and despite us, and trying to find something solid to plant our feet on is beautifully portrayed in your writing. And leaving us without a solid answer of an ending is exactly what I wanted (and didn't want at the same time), but it feels so right.
Thanks so much, Petra. I worked hard at that balance, that structure, finding that delicate line. I appreciate your insights into to it.