Subtleties. Oh, how I’ve always loved them. Those ambiguous bits that convey so much more than is polite or comfortable. A look, head tilt, graze. But I’m getting ahead of myself — maybe. After years of pushing my writing to be direct, crisp and to the point, I’m learning — again — how to be indirect and precise. Love my advisor’s note. (She’s referencing an annotation I wrote about Joan Didion’s “The Year of Magical Thinking.” Her comments are in response to my surprise find: a moment of subtly in a work that I found mostly analytical and expository.):

Never on the nose! She assumes the reader’s intelligence and respects the white space within the prose.

As a photographer friend said as we chatted during a rainy evening and I mused about how to capture the images that moved in the coffeehouse, outside of it and reflected in its rain-coated window, a sight that captivated: “You’re learning to see, Christy.”

And each time I start to see, I wonder if my eyes were ever open…



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