I haven't even finished the post yet, and I love it! I had to comment. Your flash, Alligator, is FANTASTIC! Great work! So thrilling to read such a fragmented narrative about how hard it is to be coherent in such a flooded-with-senses and memory-filled world. Yes. Beautiful work. I can't wait to read the rest. Thank you!
Kathy, I love what you did in Alligator! Indeed, time and memory are slippery, and I love the alligator as metaphor (we have a lot of alligators in Florida, and I love watching them … from a distance). And I love this post and the challenge to “perhaps” in writing memoir. I recently self-published a short story that, as I’ve told some readers, is so loosely based on my parents that the story has to be read as fiction, even though many details are factually based. (A funny aside: one of my cousins called me after reading the story to find out if certain details were true. To her disappointment, the details she was interested in were ones I made up.) I might just try your prompts and see if I can create something coherent.
Kathy: Your Alligator flash is incredibly poignant. I believe the older we get, the more pressure I feel anyway to feel it all, to see it all, to tell it all: this life that is mine and that I’ve shared with so many. (Also, an impossible task.)
Exactly the post and prompt I needed today! Alligator is powerful, Kathy. So well done. Off to float inside my own translucent bubbles of time and memory...
I just read 'Alligator' . It is wonderful, watching the spare paragraphs float, then cut down by the devastating replies. Such a powerful use of words and memory.
I loved Alligator. My powerful insight from reading Alligator was around rules/no rules. It had never occurred to me to write in shorter paragraphs with "punch lines" and how you dance between timelines but it all remains so cohesive, with a singular line that holds it together while it moves me forward.
You have given me permission to write "outside the lines" as it were. Reading Alligator out loud illustrated the rhythm and cadence that makes the piece feel like vignettes.
My favorite part is (because it feels like the entire piece is this): "I can no longer locate events in time. To remember is to look back in time. I try to get a toehold, but there are no markers, no rocks on the climbing wall. Time is a smooth, flat, vertical surface until it tilts and I’m no longer climbing but crawling.
Maybe crawling is the story."
In this one work you have taught me so much. Thank you.
This is so true. Uncertainty may feel like a vulnerability, but acknowledged it might become a strength.
Exactly!
I haven't even finished the post yet, and I love it! I had to comment. Your flash, Alligator, is FANTASTIC! Great work! So thrilling to read such a fragmented narrative about how hard it is to be coherent in such a flooded-with-senses and memory-filled world. Yes. Beautiful work. I can't wait to read the rest. Thank you!
Emma, thank you! I really appreciate the read and kind words. xo
That's such great advice, and I'll try to do the exercise
Thanks for reading, Juliet! And yes, do try the exercise. I'd love to hear how it went for you!
Kathy, I love what you did in Alligator! Indeed, time and memory are slippery, and I love the alligator as metaphor (we have a lot of alligators in Florida, and I love watching them … from a distance). And I love this post and the challenge to “perhaps” in writing memoir. I recently self-published a short story that, as I’ve told some readers, is so loosely based on my parents that the story has to be read as fiction, even though many details are factually based. (A funny aside: one of my cousins called me after reading the story to find out if certain details were true. To her disappointment, the details she was interested in were ones I made up.) I might just try your prompts and see if I can create something coherent.
Really appreciate the kind words, Marie! Yes do try the prompt and let me know how it goes!
Kathy: Your Alligator flash is incredibly poignant. I believe the older we get, the more pressure I feel anyway to feel it all, to see it all, to tell it all: this life that is mine and that I’ve shared with so many. (Also, an impossible task.)
Annie, yes that’s it exactly. Thanks so much for reading Alligator!
"How much creative license do we have?" Lots. Invent all you want. But don't fake emotions, like fear of going broke, when you never experienced it.
Exactly the post and prompt I needed today! Alligator is powerful, Kathy. So well done. Off to float inside my own translucent bubbles of time and memory...
Oh this is great to hear, Traci! And thanks for the kind words for "Alligator." : )
I just read 'Alligator' . It is wonderful, watching the spare paragraphs float, then cut down by the devastating replies. Such a powerful use of words and memory.
Oh, thanks so much, Leslie! I love the way you describe the piece. : )
Thanks for another great post and prompt, Kathy! 💙
Thanks for checking it out, Amanda! xo
I loved Alligator. My powerful insight from reading Alligator was around rules/no rules. It had never occurred to me to write in shorter paragraphs with "punch lines" and how you dance between timelines but it all remains so cohesive, with a singular line that holds it together while it moves me forward.
You have given me permission to write "outside the lines" as it were. Reading Alligator out loud illustrated the rhythm and cadence that makes the piece feel like vignettes.
My favorite part is (because it feels like the entire piece is this): "I can no longer locate events in time. To remember is to look back in time. I try to get a toehold, but there are no markers, no rocks on the climbing wall. Time is a smooth, flat, vertical surface until it tilts and I’m no longer climbing but crawling.
Maybe crawling is the story."
In this one work you have taught me so much. Thank you.
Oh wonderful! Thanks for reading , Nadia. Let me know how it goes!