There was a sort-of-dirty book a few years back about a man who loved trees and suffered many slivers, but Google only knows about a man who planted trees and won`t find that one for me.
Okay, what do you think about this? Her branches sprawled in different directions, like the errant tresses of the exotic dancer who has tossed her hair vigorously. I already know "different directions" is kind of superfluous. And I feel like the sentence can be made better.
They don't sprawl: that means lying down. Shot out? And I'd say all direction, rather than different. Well, really, I wouldn't say any of that, because this squat, twisted, braided old thing lacks all resemeblance to a lissome dancer.
If it were a younger tree which was thin and slender, would this work? Her branches shot out in all direction, like the errant tresses of the exotic dancer who has tossed her hair vigorously to an enthralled audience.
I guess... Not so much with an olive tree: they're never all that graceful. They're working trees: warm, generous, modest. They smell good, but they don't dance. A young aspen, maybe; a willow, very much more likely.
You are right. Willow is a great example. So this is my base sentence: There stood in the corner of the garden. A willow in her prime. Her branches shot out in all direction, like the errant tresses of the exotic dancer who has tossed her hair vigorously to an enthralled audience. How do you think it can be made better/more dramatic? By the way, shouldn't it be all "directions"?
Yes, it should. This new example works nicely, but you should combine your first 2 sentences into one: There stood in the corner of the garden a willow in her prime. This actually has a nice rhythm to it, sounds like the beginning of a poem. I like that you're doing more than one sentence at a time now—a paragraph does a lot more than a sentence can.
I appreciate that. It means a lot. I feel like I am making progress thanks to the generous members of this forum.
So, that was my way of describing it. How would you describe this willow? Since tumble down is used for hair, can it be used here for her branches?
Little problem: most people will think of a weeping willow, which has drooping branches. There are, of course other kinds, all soft wood, fast growing and easily broken. They have small leaves, and so the branches can look uncannily like hair in a brisk wind. Anyway: There stood in the corner of the garden a willow in her prime, her branches flung out in all directions, like the errant tresses of an exotic dancer . Sometimes it's better to stop when you're ahead. Of course. Sloppy typing on my part.
Looks like I missed a couple of steps in that last post. On that willow, you have branches all drooping down. "Tumble" is more reminiscent of water than hair, but it's okay. They'll toss and whip like crazy in a storm, but that trunk is well past its swaying years. Just wondering: why female? I mean it can be either: you can't tell male and female willows apart except in early spring when they produce catkins. Whether you need so much dramatic description - and what tone that description should take - depends on the purpose of the piece, no? So, how I would describe it depends on whether a pair of lovers were meeting under its shade, or a child in a coracle being swept down the river needed something to hold onto, or a weary traveler, a bit droopy himself, had just returned from years of exile and recognized the young willow he used to lean against when skiving off from school. Or, I suppose I could be writing a poem specifically about this tree. Only the last case would I wax lyrical -- within bounds.
It does, yes. Because you wanted them in all directions, and a weeping willow can only do that when its branches are tossed by a gusting wind.(In the "things that annoy me" thread, somebody posted a picture of a bear. In the background, there is a whole phalanx of what looks like bebb willows, with stiff branches sticking up and out in several directions, but it's a shrub with no discernible trunk and hardly ever found as a single specimen. I'll have to think about that. It's been years since I wrote any poem bigger than haiku, except as satire. Maybe tomorrow?
I see. So, flung works for when there is a heavy wind blowing, right? And if there is no wind, I should use droop: There stood in the corner of the garden a willow in her prime, her branches drooping in all directions, like the errant tresses of an exotic dancer . Take your time. No hurry at all. When and if you feel like it.
Yes, a person can fling their hair out in all directions, or toss it. Droop sounds wrong though, A person doesn't droop unless they're tired or sick or depressed. Well, I suppose it would work if the exotic dancer is of the skeezy, drug-addicted type. Hang works but has the same connotations as droop, though not as strongly.
Going back to the concept of longevity of trees, can I use the term "ephemeral"? Our lives and our pain and our hopes to her [the tree] seem profoundly ephemeral.
So, is this perfectly okay? Our lives, our pain and our hopes to her seem profoundly ephemeral and insignificant.
I'd end it there. Adding another line is excessive, IMO. But if you want to add the line about lives, shorten this one.
I see your point and it was not my intention to use both sentences at the same time. Just so I'm clear, this sentence is okay, however, it's too much? You mean it's overly dramatic? Our lives, our pain and our hopes to her seem profoundly ephemeral and insignificant. Semantically speaking, have I used "ephemeral" correctly?
Yes, you have. What I mean is, if you use too much poetic description and imagery, you detract from the story itself. There are times when it's appropriate, depending on the atmosphere and style of the story. For example, if the tree in question is the centrepiece of the story and its age is a key plot point. But if not, for example, you're just describing a tree in a garden to set the scenery, it's excessive. Describe it succintly, then move on. Readers usually don't want to read too much flowery prose.
I wouldn't modify 'ephemeral'; can't see how a life can be either profoundly or superficially fleeting. And the exotic dancer has had her moment, I think. Seems cruel to make her droop in the corner!