All posts by Jordan

Upcoming series: Backstory

I’m planning my next series (starting next Monday!), and once again, I need your help. I need your questions, musings and and topics.

What do you want to know about backstory? What it is? How to tell it from the “real” story? How to work it in? Whether you need it?

As always, guest bloggers are welcome (check out my guest blogging guidelines here, but of course, the topic will be different this time around—you know, backstory?).

What do you want to know (or write!) about backstory?

Photo credits: question—Svilen Mushkatov

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

Yet another blogfest

Okay, this’ll be the last for a while. Today I’m participating in Secret Story’s Bar Scene Blogfest.

Set up: Special Agent Zach Saint is undercover as a Catholic priest after the parish mob murdered the last priest. This is his first week in the parish, and he’s joined one of the parish mobsters (Cally Lonegan) at the local bar. Zach doesn’t drink. Ever.


The bartender placed fresh glasses in front of Zach and Cally Lonegan. Zach took a tentative sip of his; it was bitter and alcohol-free as his last four drinks. Lonegan had guzzled 90-proof gin as fast as Zach could down his tonic and limes.

Lonegan reached for his tumbler, but looked away at the last second. The momentary distraction was timed perfectly for Lonegan to knock the glass over and spill the juniper-based spirit in Zach’s lap.

Great. Sighing, Zach grabbed a towel from across the bar to mop up the mess. Oblivious, Lonegan was busy flagging down a friend. “Doyle!” Even with the crowd, his shout was twenty decibels too loud. But it wasn’t the shouting that had Zach’s attention—was this Murphy?

Before he looked around, the full case file flashed through Zach’s mind. The crime scene photos of the last underling Murphy had had executed sprang to the forefront. He turned to follow Lonegan’s gaze.

Eyeing Zach, a man who carried his weight like he was used to being obeyed approached the bar. He looked just like his file photo: tall, hefty, and subtly menacing. “What kind of company you keeping now, Cal?”

“Who, this?” He punched Zach in the shoulder harder than necessary. “This is Father Tim. Salt of the Earth, that’s for sure!” Lonegan roared with laughter.

“Doyle Murphy.” The newcomer—the resident mob boss—settled at Zach’s left. Well, that was easier than he expected.

As long as he didn’t end up like the last guy who Murphy didn’t trust. The blood spatter on the sedate floral sofa hung in his mind. The Bureau believed the guy had been an hour late to deliver a shipment.

And then there was Father Patrick.

Zach fought back his racing pulse and shook the mobster’s hand. He’d been this close to vicious killers before. Worked with them, even. But a nagging feeling in his gut said ingratiating himself to this control freak over the next weeks—months, maybe—would be the most dangerous assignment he’d faced yet.


Yes, there’s more to the scene—but that’s where the chapter ends.

As always, read, participate and comment here!

Photo by Silus Grok

Murder Scene Blogfest

I’m still on a blogfest kick, with one for today and one for tomorrow. Today is the Murder Scene Blogfest, hosted by Anne Riley, and here’s my entry! (Note: it’s been trimmed here.)


In ten hours, they would be married. A mix of anxiety and adrenaline surged through Scott as he turned on to Abby’s street.

Squad cars idled in front of her building. His stomach turned cold. She was all right—she had to be. It could be anyone. It could be the building next door. It could be a traffic stop.

A traffic stop with three sets of flashing lights?

Scott sped up, scanning for a parking space. He’d missed her call last night thanks to his dad and his dreaded pre-wedding lecture. She hadn’t left a message. Was something wrong?

No. They wouldn’t keep three cars with flashing lights on the street overnight, unless—

He pulled alongside one of the squad cars, got his badge from the glove box and sprinted to the nearest uniform.

“What’s going on?”

“You’ll have to move along, sir.”

Scott shook his head. He flashed his badge. “What’s going on?”

“Murder.” The officer looked back toward the entrance to the parking garage beneath Abby’s building.

Fear grabbed his heart. “Who?”

“The guy who called it in couldn’t ID the body.”

“I know some people in the building. I’ll take a look.”

The officer glanced back at the ramp that led to the shadowed basement. “Don’t tell ’em I was the one that let you in.”

Scott nodded and started down the ramp. Each step tightened dread’s grip on his chest. By the time he reached the first level, he was almost sprinting.

He’d come here for an early morning run, but this wasn’t what he’d intended.

The plainclothes detectives clustered near Abby’s parking spot, and a darkening blood pool on the asphalt. A black body bag—full—sat on a gurney, waiting to be loaded into the coroner’s van. Scott stopped short, the fear freezing in his veins.

No. This couldn’t be happening. Not on their wedding day.

“Who let you down here?” one of the detectives demanded.

Scott kept his eyes on the body bag as he approached and pulled out his badge. “FBI.” Normally, he said it with force, but his voice sounded like a hollow echo ringing in his ears.

A grizzled detective threw up his hands in mock-joy. “Tell me the feds want this one. I have three hours till my shift’s supposed to start.”

“Have you IDed the body?”

The graying detective shook his head. “You live here?”

He nodded. Close enough.

The coroner’s assistant nodded at the detective’s signal and unzipped the body bag. He pulled back the flap before Scott could even brace himself.


(I think I should clarify here that when I hear the words “murder scene,” I automatically think of a crime scene, not a scene in which we watch someone be murdered. The murder here actually does take place “on screen” in the scene before this, but I have to rewrite that, so I went with this.)

Read, participate and comment here!

Photo by Mac

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