Comments on: a detail hunt

By: the next writer in the series: may 1, 2014 | catching days

the next writer in the series: may 1, 2014 | catching days — Thu, 17 Apr 2014 14:06:59 +0000

[…] Sue and I know each other from Vermont College of Fine Arts, where she is a much-sought-after adviser–for her teaching skills, her knowledge of the craft, her ability to be honest on the page, her warmth, and her quirky self. Before I graduated, I heard her read more than once from The Pat Boone Fan Club. And before I arrived at VCFA, I knew Sue’s writing from her craft book, Fearless Confessions: A Writer’s Guide to Memoir. […]

By: cynthia

cynthia — Fri, 28 Aug 2009 16:42:18 +0000

In reply to jenniferneri. Jennifer, I love that you ask your kids one thing that stuck with them from the day. That's a great way to help them learn to be aware and reflective. It is interesting, isn't it, comparing what we notice and what that says about us.

By: jenniferneri

jenniferneri — Thu, 27 Aug 2009 02:47:48 +0000

Most nights, at bedtime, I ask my kids to say at least one thing from the day that stuck with them. One detail. My husband will walk into a room and notice if a book is moved. It will take me weeks to realize it is missing, but I will notice a smell, or a change in light bulb. It is like you say, all about perception.

By: cynthia

cynthia — Sat, 22 Aug 2009 15:53:00 +0000

In reply to judith. Judith, I love what you wrote in your comment, that the best stories allow us to slip inside the details. Thanks for adding to the conversation. I hope you'll be back.

By: cynthia

cynthia — Sat, 22 Aug 2009 13:10:02 +0000

In reply to survivorscribe. Cristina, yes, in revision is when I really go to work on the details, to make sure each one is there for a reason.

By: cynthia

cynthia — Sat, 22 Aug 2009 13:05:35 +0000

In reply to Emily. Emily, I love the "what bicyclist?" Your story reminds me of Marilynne Robinson telling us that she reads while she walks the dog! Thanks for your wonderful comment.

By: cynthia

cynthia — Fri, 21 Aug 2009 18:55:59 +0000

In reply to Sarah Laurence. Sarah, Sue William Silverman's cracked vase example was helpful to me as well, and I agree, it's usually when I'm revising that I can see where there's too much or too little detail. I try not to think about it too much when I'm writing. And when I'm writing, I have this amazing ability not to see anything that needs doing. But when I open my eyes, ugh, everywhere I look, a pile to attack. Thanks for your comment.

By: judith

judith — Fri, 21 Aug 2009 13:46:54 +0000

Yes. You are so right. Life is in the details. The best stories are those that allow us to slip inside them, into their cracks. I can’t tolerate those stories, or movies, that hit you over the head with what they are so desperate to tell you.
PS The “echo”, yes, perfect word

By: survivorscribe

survivorscribe — Thu, 20 Aug 2009 13:35:42 +0000

I will keep this in mind as I work on my revision as well. Thank you.

By: Emily

Emily — Wed, 19 Aug 2009 17:08:38 +0000

This is such a good post, Cynthia. It made me smile because in my household I’m notoriously absent-minded – when I take the dog for a walk, for example, I’m often working out design problems in my head or analyzing a book I’m reading, rather than noticing what’s around me. My partner, on the other hand, is hyper-observant; he was raised by research scientists and has SUCH an eye for details of the world around him. It happens very often that we’ll be out on a walk together and he’ll say something like “Wow, did you see pattern on the shorts that bicyclist was wearing?” And I’ll come out of my reverie to respond “What bicyclist?” We have this exchange so often that it’s become a running joke. 🙂 I have mixed feelings about being the unobservant party…I think it’s because my brain is very tenacious, and never wants to let go of whatever project it’s working on at the moment. I think my reveries certainly have their own set of benefits, but I’ve been thinking of trying to establish an “observant mode” as well. Anyway, thanks for the thought-provoking entry.