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The weather has lost its damned mind
By now I oughta know the date a season begins is merely “suggested”, like yogurt or the half-life of spent uranium. Where we live –gesturing vaguely to the top of California – winter arrives early. Summer swelters into fire season, until fall is left with a scant few weeks to show its splendor. And spring, well, it keeps turning off and back on again like it’s being controlled by a caffeine-addled IT guy.
This matters because our garden, now in its second year, is meant to offset the ravenous bellies of our brood. I mean, have you looked at the price of berries lately?
As I write this, snow has just melted from an atmospheric river — a weather event with a better marketing than most start ups. But that river brought an extra 2” of water to our property we hadn’t expected.
I’ll be closely watching the strawberries for signs of life. As will the brood.
Viral Load
Last week I posted a note that struck a chord. I meant what I said and have spent the last few days reading, liking and commenting on quite a few “old” posts1. There are indeed some talented mofos out there.
If you’re new here to Tiny Worlds because of it: Welcome! Wonderful to meet you all!
be sure to check out my archives and let me know in the comments what I should read of yours!
Time Dilation
Note: What I’m about to talk about is not new – just new to me – but I thought I’d take you along for the ride.
As I work on writing more, particularly longer pieces, I've been considering how much "reader time" I occupy at any given moment. Maybe, like me, you find it challenging to balance creating a vivid scene while avoiding excessive navel gazing? What I find particularly difficult is conveying just enough information without overwhelming the reader or appearing too forceful, like saying, "look here!"
That leads me to think about how time dilation in writing works. Again, this is all nascent for me. Below are, roughly, two takes on the same scene at different paces: one fast, one slow.
Fast
The door slammed. He fumbled his resume, sweating. The interviewer barked a name; it might've been his. Questions rattled – strengths, weaknesses, salary. His answers blurred, too fast, too desperate. The handshake was clammy, the door slamming again a relief, and a failure.
Slow
The heavy door creaked open a sliver, and his heart pounded behind it. With every step, his shoes echoed on the polished floor. The nameplate on the desk gleamed: Ms. Anderson. Her eyes scanned his resume, one long pause on the gap year that still stung. "Tell me about your time in...," her voice began, each word measured. He fumbled for an answer, words sticking in his dry throat. When her hand extended, it felt like a century had passed or a mere second – he couldn't tell which.
To be sure, the structure of a moment can be impacted by a “ticking clock” narrative device built into a story. Some scenes need to simply move along (or, one could reason, not exist at all) while others need to linger in a moment.
I’m also experimenting changing the pace within a scene by calling it the Matrix-effect. It looks like this: Fast-slooowwww-fast. I’m sure there are literary examples of this that don’t involve copious amounts of leather or firearms.
Questions:
How do you handle time dilation in your own writing?
Have you seen any great examples?
Sounds on-tap
Guadalupe Plata 2023 - Guadalupe Plata
Exceptional tracks: Y.N.T.M.A | La Cigüeña
Little Green - Cara Beth Satalino
Mother Road - Grace Potter
Exceptional tracks: Masterpiece | Good Time
Where’s My Utopia? - Yard Act
Exceptional tracks: Dream Job | We Make Hits
While you’re at it, the first Yard Act album The Overload is great.
Things I’m reading on Substack:
Old on the internet is relative, no?
I like this idea of working with time dilation, particularly because I tend toward slower-moving, introspective writing. Adding some sort of clock in the narrative is something I may experiment with.
Here is an exquisite short example of a combined quick-slow style from my favorite substack fiction writer, Jim Cummings. He presents beautifully detailed, evocative description and then spare, truncated dialog. He never points out the Era in which the story takes place, but the style and idiom is pure Mid-century. I enjoyed your post this morning, J. ( is that Jim, Jack, Jeremy, John, Jonah?)
https://jimcummings5251.substack.com/p/a-letter-from-proxmire?