Tag Archives: senses

L is for learning style

I was digging through my archives looking for something else when I came across a post that sounded like a really interesting idea. (I can say that because it was a guest post.)

I find that I hit the same senses over and over again, and neglect the others. This happens in writing and in real life, too. I think this has a lot to do with my learning style. During our series on writing the senses last year, somehow I recruited someone with actual expertise to write about how learning styles can affect how we use our senses. Perhaps the most interesting idea is giving our characters different learning styles than we have, and tailoring their sensory experiences to their learning style.

Also beginning with L: this week’s LDS Writer Blogfest. Writers who are members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (Mormons) blogged about their favorite address from the latest General Conference. I participated on my other blog. Read all the participants:

Annette Lyon: “Desire”
Annie Cechini: “The Spirit of Revelation”
Ben Spendlove: “The Atonement Covers All Pain”
Chantele Sedgwick: “LDS Women Are Incredible!”
Charity Bradford: “LDS Women Are Incredible!”
Jackee Alston: “The Eternal Blessings of Marriage”
Jenilyn Tolley: “What Manner of Men and Women Ought Ye to Be?”
Jennifer McFadden: “Establishing a Christ-Centered Home”
Jessie Oliveros: “Establishing a Christ-Centered Home”
Jolene Perry: “It’s Conference Once Again”
Jordan McCollum: “What Manner of Men and Women Ought Ye to Be?”
Kasey Tross: “Guided by the Holy Spirit”
Kayeleen Hamblin: “Become as a Little Child”
Kelly Bryson: “The Atonement Covers All Pain”
Krista Van Dolzer: “Opportunities to Do Good”
Melanie Stanford: “What Manner of Men and Women Ought Ye to Be?”
Michelle Merrill: “The Eternal Blessings of Marriage”
Myrna Foster: “Opportunities to Do Good”
Nisa Swineford: “Desire”
Sallee Mathews: “The Eternal Blessings of Marriage”
Sierra Gardner: “The Atonement Covers All Pain”
Tamara Hart Heiner: “Waiting on the Road to Damascus”
The Writing Lair: “Waiting on the Road to Damascus”

How to dress your story with style

This entry is part 10 of 10 in the series Writing the senses

by M. Deane

There is one more element to writing with a story with all five senses—style. Years ago, I discovered this hidden element when I took a second job as a dog trainer. My mentor insisted I read books about how humans learn so I could have a better understanding of how to reach our students. What I found out was fascinating—there are three very distinct learning styles.

First, there is the visual learner. Most people are visual learners; these people think in pictures, love lectures where there are diagrams and slides, and usually sit towards the front so they can get an unobstructed view.

Next up is the auditory learner. These are the people who learn through hearing; they like to read aloud or listen to books on tape, and often have to talk through things to grasp a concept.

The last is the kinaesthetic (or tactile) learner. These are the people who learn through touch and movement; they take a hands-on approach to understand what they are learning, and can usually be found fidgeting or doodling during lectures and meetings.

What does this have to do with writing?

Well, there is a two-fold answer to that. Most writers tend to describe things in their own learning style. This can be both a strength—and a weakness. I am a kinaesthetic learner, so I love to throw in action and tactile words. I have no problem describing a couple getting up in the morning, having a conversation while they go through the mundane tasks of brushing their teeth and getting dressed and making the bed. On the other hand, I generally fail to describe visual and auditory cues, such as facial expressions and sounds. I learned this lesson the hard way when I finished a book and then realized I had never once described the color of the truck the main character drove!

The second part of the answer is that writers generally create characters who all share the same learning style. Once I discovered learning styles, I realized that this is another way I can break out of my own viewpoint, and create more depth. Perhaps I am writing a story where I will be exploring the same scene from several points of view. One subtle way to make those viewpoints distinct is to give the characters in the scene distinct learning styles. Perhaps one character walks in, looks around with his hands in his pockets, and immediately notices the unusual burn marks on the wall. The other character, though, puts on gloves and kneels, and begins to examine the remains in the middle of the room.

What is your learning style? Do you think there might be an element missing in your writing because you lean towards your learning style?

Learn more about learning styles

About the author
M. Deane started writing the minute her first grade teacher pressed a pencil in her hands. She currently lives in Central Texas, and works in the IT field. Poetry is her true love, but her muse keeps insisting on making strange forays into fiction. She keeps an online journal, including some writing samples, at http://calamitycrow.dreamwidth.org/.

Photo by djneight

Experimenting with your characters’ senses

This entry is part 9 of 10 in the series Writing the senses

In my freshman writing class (I think), we read this really amazing autobiography by a man who began a French Resistance group as a teenager in WWII. After a few years, the Gestapo found him and he was sent to a concentration camp for nearly two years. But his story was more than just a story of survival—he was unique not because he survived, but how.

The how is kind of hard to explain, but the basic reason was because saw a type of “light” within his mind that allowed him to discern about people and situations. If he heeded the guidance from that divine light, he was always able to find a way through difficult times.

And the biggest reason he was able to be in tune with this light? He was blind. Being blind also helped him to develop his other senses to compensate, so his hearing was sharper than others’, etc.

Our characters’ senses can be their strengths—but they can also be their crutches (or ours!). Especially when we’re trying to focus on non-dominant senses (i.e. taste, smell and touch), one way to bring these senses out is to deprive our character of other senses in the long term or short term.

You might try this as just a writing exercise, or as a scene to use, but here are just a few reasons a character might lose a sense for a time:

  • It’s dark.
  • He’s blindfolded.
  • Close-range loud noise (gunshot, anyone?)
  • She has a cold. (That can affect smell, taste and hearing. Oh the joys.)
  • Medical procedure, such as eye surgery.
  • She’s wearing hearing protection, ear plugs or even earmuffs.
  • Shock.
  • He lost his glasses or contacts. (I’d be legally blind without mine.)

You can rewrite an old scene or create a new one where your character doesn’t have access to the full range of senses. If you deprive your character of a dominant sense (sight or hearing), how will her other senses compensate? Does she listen for his tone more carefully or is he especially attuned to the scent of her perfume?

This is an idea I had while writing this series, but it’s not something I’ve had time to try yet. So if you’re up for it, let us know how it goes!

What do you think? How else would senses compensate for a lots one? How might a character temporarily lose one or more senses?

Photo by Mirko Tobias Schaefer

Selecting character senses

This entry is part 8 of 10 in the series Writing the senses

Last week, I read an excellent article by author Jade Lee (aka Kathy Lyons). It was called “Setting as Character,” but the underlying message is that characters always interpret the setting through their internal lenses (or precepts, the term the author uses in the article).

To help her remember her characters’ internal precepts, Jade assigns them images that reflect (and control) their internal states, external behaviors, clothes, movements—and even what senses they tend to rely on. One of her examples (emphasis added):

The heroine of Cornered Tigress was a skittish cat. That gave me her colors: black and gray. It also gave me how she moves: on her toes silently, or she pounced or stalked. Cats don’t see as well, they’re very texture and taste oriented. So she became a cook and whenever she entered a room, she tasted the air and noticed the fabrics. When she grew frightened, she hid in tiny closed spaces like a closet, but she would fight like a demon when cornered. The hero made her feel safe. When he caressed her, she wanted to stretch and purr.

In the comments, Jade helps others find these images. One thing to remember is not to focus on events, but behaviors and characteristics—internal factors rather than the action of the story (or backstory). Focus on adjectives and describing your characters’ personalities (even if you only have a sketch), then look for something that matches—something in nature, or something man-made, but ideally something that can grow, develop or change. This can even fill in blanks for you as you’re creating a character.

The most instructive comments even give a guide for finding these, and several examples (emphasis mine, again):

Think of your heroine — is she powerful take charge like a race horse? Fiesty, never say die even though it’s stupid like a small terrier? Cold and stand offish like a frozen fountain? seething beneath in anger like a volcano? Get some general words associated with her — three or four key characteristics. You gave me her main baggage issue, but I don’t have a feel if she’s a do-er or a be-er (action first or feel/fit into a situation first before you act) If she’s afraid or angry or determined first. That will lead to more imagery that will lock it down in your head. . . .

[B]ackstory and plot [are] not what makes him unique. And that certainly isn’t what DRIVES him. What are his internal precepts? What gets him out of bed in the morning? What does he believe he has to do in this lifetime before he dies? That will tell me what kind of man he is. And then we can begin fleshing him out with an image.

If you need a different way to look at it—think this…Name one core belief that he lives beyond all others.

Granted, if the best image for your character isn’t an animal, this may not be as helpful in the sensory writing. But it can still help to focus on their senses and the way they interact with their environment.

What do you think? What kind of images spring to mind for your characters?

Photo by Chrissy Wainwright

Tapping into your character’s senses

This entry is part 7 of 10 in the series Writing the senses

Yesterday (and throughout this series), I mentioned that we have to focus on our characters and what they perceive when we detail the sensory information. We’ve talked about how to get into a character’s head (waaay back when), but sometimes seeing with our character’s eyes (or using their other senses) is a bit more challenging than just understanding what they’re thinking.

One thing that I’ve done to work on this (can you tell this is actually what I’m working on now?) is to go through each scene and write down all five senses for that character in that setting. As I do this, I ask myself questions about the character in the setting:

  • Which of my character’s emotions or experiences would color this setting? Does the sandy desert remind her of her grandmother’s house, or him of Desert Storm? (Or make up new experiences, if you feel like it.) If you need a setting to have an impact, sensory data could trigger strong memories for your character. Or if you just want your character to have a strong emotional experience, sensory data from the setting might be the way to go. Emotional
  • Is this a new setting for the character? If so, keep in mind your character’s personality and purpose there. Someone accustomed to danger might scan for the best escape route first. (And she won’t sit with her back to the door. Don’t even ask.) But if she’s there to meet a friend, looking for that friend will be a close second priority.
  • Conversely, is this setting very familiar to the character? If, for example, it’s their home or workplace, they may not “experience” it anymore. So if you need to be in that character’s POV in that setting, focus only on what stands out. Most of us don’t know what our own house smells like (unless we’re the ones buying the air fresheners!), but we’ll notice the overripe garbage.
  • In a familiar setting, can I have other people interact with the set? The other characters’ interactions with the POV/owner character’s furniture may suddenly draw her attention to the ratty patch on the arm of the couch where her cat sharpens its claws—or maybe the cat does that itself.
  • Do we remain grounded in the setting? Do we go too long without referencing something concrete in the “real world” of the story, devolving into people talking in space? (That’s one of my big things to work on.) Note: we don’t have to redescribe the drywall, but even interacting with a prop keeps us from floating off into space.
  • Do we remain grounded in the character? Kind of the opposite phenomenon—do we spend too much time on the description so that we kind of lose track of what the character is doing/thinking/feeling? (And thanks to Andrew for bringing this to mind in the comments!)

What do you think? How do you get into your characters’ senses?

Tomorrow, we’ll have more about picking which senses to focus on for your character!

Photo by Vestman

Dealing with sensory overload

This entry is part 6 of 10 in the series Writing the senses

I thought I was only going to spend five days on writing with the senses, but there’s more to sense-rich writing than just focusing on each sense. In fact, focusing on each sense can actually make it harder for your readers to get that deep, in-character experience.

Why? Because instead of having a scene where something happens, we get distracted repeatedly by these perceptions. The setting keeps interrupting the action. (And you wondered what would happen if these walls could hear!)

In writing the senses, we have to carefully balance the sensory data with the action of the scene—and always focus on only the most important details.

  • First time’s the charm. The first time we see a set or meet a new character is usually our best opportunity to describe.
  • Wait as long as you can. Describing at the first opportunity doesn’t mean stopping the story to give every detail. Start with the most noticeable aspects, and then weave in other pertinent details when they matter. For example: you know that halfway through the scene the precise arrangement of the furniture will be important. Can you wait until then to describe it, so that it will be fresh in the reader’s mind? Will they remember how the settee and the arm chair are positioned after three pages anyway?
  • Focus on the character. I said something along these lines for most of the senses, but remember who the POV character is—what s/he would notice and how s/he would interpret it.
  • Focus on action. Long, static descriptions are boring. Remember the action of the scene and put most of the focus there, with enough setting to enhance that action.
  • Focus on emotion. Senses can be most useful in enhancing the character’s emotional experience (and thus the reader’s). If a sense brings out an important emotional reaction, don’t neglect that stimulus/response.
  • The rule of three. What are the three most important, powerful sensory inputs that the character experiences? Start with those. As above, weave in other sensory data as it makes sense.
  • Variety is the spice . . . . Make sure you don’t use the same senses too much. Smells may create the biggest emotional response, but unless your character is a bloodhound, a smell in every scene might be overdoing it a little.

What do you think? How do you decide which senses to use and when?

Photo by the Lichfield District Council

A rose by any other name

This entry is part 5 of 10 in the series Writing the senses

So the last of the five basic senses is smell. We all know our sense of smell is intimately bound up with our sense of taste. Some scientists have found interaction between smell and sound (“smounds,” they call them. Really.). And they say that smell is the strongest memory or emotional trigger of all the senses—hence why it’s especially important to include in our writing.

Smelling up the place

  • Track the scent to its source. No, you don’t have to hire a bloodhound, but the specificity of “fresh paint” or “old paper and dust” brings a more vivid scent-image to mind than “new building” or “musty.”
  • Work on your smell palette. Just like with taste, we can try to expand our smellcabulary. (No?) Smell foods before you eat them, and analyze the scent for its constituent parts (especially handy if you made the food—then you know everything that went in). Go give your spice rack a spin and sample the smells. Try a blindfolded test.
  • Kaye Dacus recommends this one:

    Try this exercise. Close your eyes (well, after you finish reading this paragraph!). Imagine you are walking into your favorite restaurant. What does it smell like? Start breaking apart the smell into layers (yes, like an onion, Shrek). What are the component parts of the aroma—garlic, basil, tomato? Corn, cilantro, peppers? Feta cheese, oregano, lamb?

    Note the clustering of threes as well.

  • Kaye also recommends reading perfume descriptions to observe what “notes” and aromas the creators describe, so check out White Diamonds or Polo for Men on Perfume.com
  • Make them active. Even a short smell description carries more power if it’s part of an active construction. Contrast this example from edittorrent:

    The scent of fresh-brewed coffee permeated her nostrils.
    vs.
    The scent of fresh-brewed coffee teased her awake.

    Note that I also agree that smells shouldn’t be so active as to permeate, assault or do just about anything else to a character’s nose/nostrils/smelling apparatus.

Then again, maybe I’m not the person you should ask about this. I have a weak sense of smell in the first place, and this week I have a Sudafed-proof head cold. 😀

What do you think? How do you highlight smell in your work?

Photo by Deann Barrera

Adding flavor to your writing

This entry is part 4 of 10 in the series Writing the senses

Taste is a tough sense to convey in writing. It’s generally going to be confined to two basic usages: a character eating and a character tasting fear/blood/etc. Latter is a sensation that can be very powerful as a visceral response—unless it’s overused. Generally, it’s remembered fairly well.

For the first example, we don’t want to spend too much time describing something we’re all familiar with. The taste of chicken? You’re probably better focusing on the spices or side dishes.

However, when a character is tasting something new and unfamiliar to them and your audience (chilled monkey brains!), describing that taste can help them experience this new food along with your character.

Taste testing your writing
Although taste is tricky to convey in writing, there are a number of ways to convey taste effectively in writing.

  • Expand your flavor vocabulary. Sour, salty, bitter, sweet and spicy are a good start—but they’re awfully generic. That doesn’t mean we should hop straight to just naming garam masala or vegemite as the flavor, either. There’s a whole spectrum of common flavors out there—smoky, lemony, nutty, yeasty, buttery—that can serve as references.
  • Use familiar references. Again, don’t just name an obscure flavor and hope your readers will get it. Some might, but if it’s important enough to name, it’s important enough to help your readers experience, right?
  • Expand your actual palette. Take a cooking or tasting class, or host a tasting party of your own—cheese is usually a good place to start, since you can get several varieties in almost any grocery store. Invite over some friends, taste the cheeses, take notes and compare.
  • Actually eat the food you’re describing. Even if it’s a familiar food, you might pick up on something to bring out your character or scene better with another taste.
  • Remember texture. Like I said yesterday, texture is an important part of an eating experience. (And hey, temperature can be, too. Cold pizza vs. hot, anyone?)
  • Consider the character. If this is a restaurant, what would s/he order? Why? (I like to use real restaurant menus as starting points, but you don’t have to.) Also, think about your character’s culture—was she raised on collard greens and KFC or colcannon and Abrakebabra? What flavors do they like, and is their flavor vocabulary, and how can you make sure that translates well to your audience?
  • Empower emotions. Is there something about these flavors that triggers a memory or other reaction from the character? Does s/he like or dislike this taste?

Also, take into account your setting and genre. Culinary cozies, for example, will probably feature far more taste than fast-paced thrillers—unless those thrillers take place at Le Cordon Bleu.

What do you think? How do you convey taste in your writing?

Photo by Mike Burns