Powerful writing. I love the way the piece starts with 'needle' and ends, ambiguously, on 'point'. It's like we have worked our way through the syringe.
I suspect that's the hallmark of great writing like yours. It's kind of creating itself inside you and as it sees the light of day, others will sometimes see things in it before you do?
That’s an extremely nice thing to say. I’ll try and be un-British about it and take it in the spirit of one professional to another. *failed miserably 😂
Eleanor, your post strangely reminds me of one of my much less intense short essays. Different ritual, less dangerous, but borne of a similar hunger, I think.
Ah that's lovely writing, and yes, I see exactly what you mean. It's the detail of ritual (in the writing) and the desire of ritual (in the living). And Brevity! I've always wanted to be published in there. Love that imprint, and love that exists. It reminds me, in its eccentric existence, of The Oldie. Quietly doing its thing in it own undisturbed corner of the universe.
Darkly seductive prose, delivered perfectly through the eye of a needle. Thank you Ella 🌸♥️
Powerful writing. I love the way the piece starts with 'needle' and ends, ambiguously, on 'point'. It's like we have worked our way through the syringe.
And also it’s interesting to me that you saw that as I didn’t, but now it makes sense to me, how it led me to that ending.
I love that a reader saw something that you didn't do consciously. Writing is such a wonderful thing.
Isn't it, just. It's magic.
I suspect that's the hallmark of great writing like yours. It's kind of creating itself inside you and as it sees the light of day, others will sometimes see things in it before you do?
That’s an extremely nice thing to say. I’ll try and be un-British about it and take it in the spirit of one professional to another. *failed miserably 😂
Thanks
Such intense writing. I've always wondered about the cotton wool. What's the purpose?
It acts as a kind of filter.
Ah....
I still wonder about that floor phenomenon. And it's still my favourite place to sit when something exciting is happening.
Yes. I might get into that a bit. Unpack and unpick it.
“Shall we have a taste” is the beginning of it all, and frankly was always better than the using itself.
Yes. This is the truth.
Eleanor, your post strangely reminds me of one of my much less intense short essays. Different ritual, less dangerous, but borne of a similar hunger, I think.
https://brevitymag.com/nonfiction/a-hot-bath-in-april/
Ah that's lovely writing, and yes, I see exactly what you mean. It's the detail of ritual (in the writing) and the desire of ritual (in the living). And Brevity! I've always wanted to be published in there. Love that imprint, and love that exists. It reminds me, in its eccentric existence, of The Oldie. Quietly doing its thing in it own undisturbed corner of the universe.
So seductive. So terrifying