Category Archives: Writing Mechanics

The Swooper/Basher Dichotomy

While reading Kurt Vonnegut’s novel Timequake recently, I noted he classified writers into two groups: Swoopers and Bashers. He said women tend to be swoopers and men tend to be bashers, adding, “Someone should look into this.” Let’s look into it.

Most writers are familiar with another grouping: plotters and pantzers, but that’s not what Vonnegut was driving at. He wasn’t distinguishing between those who outline and those who don’t. His alternatives focused on the speed of writing a first draft and the number of subsequent drafts.

Swooper

He said swoopers “…write a story quickly, higgledy-piggledy, crinkum-crankum, any which way. Then they go over it again painstakingly, fixing everything that is just plain awful or doesn’t work.”

Basher

By contrast, bashers “…go one sentence at a time, getting it exactly right before they go on to the next one. When they’re done, they’re done.”

Several bloggers have interesting things to say about the swooper/basher contrast, including Shannon Alberta, Philip Martin, Edmund Schubert, Paula Marais, and David Duhr.

Vonnegut himself claimed to be a basher. Why he chose the terms ‘swooper’ and ‘basher’ is a mystery to me. I can see how writing first drafts quickly might suggest swooping, but writing each sentence carefully doesn’t bring the verb bashing to my mind.

Note that neither method relieves you of the need for meticulous, word-by-word editing. It’s just that bashers do that up front, in the first draft, while swoopers edit in later drafts.

In any case, I doubt there is any gender distinction between the two. I suspect the real dividing point has to do with experience. My guess is that beginning writers tend to be swoopers and many of them become bashers later on.

Early on, a writer has no reputation to lose, and thus feels great freedom to experiment and play with words. Such a writer might have a tenuous grasp of the vision for the story, and therefore must write the first draft at breakneck speed to capture that idea in words before it flies away.

Later in life, after having many stories published and developing a readership, that same writer must be more careful. Readers have come to expect a certain style from the author and deviations aren’t appreciated. There is no longer a need to experiment and play to find out what will work in the marketplace. Moreover, such an author has learned, through experience, how to keep the entire story in mind while crafting each sentence in order.

My theory that beginners tend to be swoopers and veterans to be bashers is, itself, an over-generalization. In the end, it’s a matter of style, of finding what works for you. Among famous authors, I suspect you’ll find both swoopers and bashers. You’re free to experiment with both methods to discover which is better for you.

If you somehow separated swoopers from bashers, and then examined your collection of swoopers carefully, somewhere in that group you’d find—

Poseidon’s Scribe

October 4, 2020Permalink

Connecting those Interesting Bits

Alfred Hitchcock said, “Drama is life with the dull bits cut out.” True, but you can’t just write the interesting bits and call that collection of scenes a story. You must connect those scenes in a smooth, seamless way. Today’s post is about these connections, called transitions.

I Iike the way Jody Hedlund described transitions in her post, as tunnels for transporting readers from scene to scene. Without these tunnels, readers would feel disoriented and confused. However, the tunnel itself is boring, so it’s best not to linger there. Keep your transitions short.

In Beth Hill’s post on the subject, she cites the three usual types of transitions: (1) change in time, (2) change in location, and (3) change in point of view. She also discusses transitions as a way to show a (4) change in mood or frame of mind. You can also use these types in combination.

With time transitions, a subsequent scene takes place at a different time than the previous scene. You can separate your scenes by minutes, weeks, months, years, centuries, or millennia. In the case of flashbacks, you can even go backwards in time. It’s important to make clear to the reader how far in time, and in which temporal direction, the new scene is from the previous one.

Location transitions shift the new scene to a different place. Once again, make it obvious to the reader that the story has shifted elsewhere. Spend only as many words as you need to describe the new setting, so the reader feels she is there with the characters.

Point of View transitions can be tricky. It’s best to mention the name of the new POV character early in the scene, in the first sentence. Since no two characters think alike, start by having the new POV character think about something the previous scene’s POV character wouldn’t have, to make the transition more obvious to the reader.

You can combine mood transitions with the other types, and often a change in time or location explains the change of mood. If a character alters mood within a scene, you need to make reason for the change clear to the reader.

Some writers find transitions difficult to write. If that’s true for you, consider writing your scenes first and just skip the transitions. Then go back and write those transitions, focusing on helping the reader understand when the new scene is, where it is, and from whose point of view she’s seeing it. Make the change obvious and brief.

As you edit transitions, read the end of the previous scene, the transition, and the beginning of the following scene. Is the change clear? Is it too abrupt, or too long?

So, follow the advice of Alfred Hitchcock and cut out the dull bits, but make sure you transition well between the remaining dramatic scenes. Now, transitioning to my usual sign-off, I’m—

Poseidon’s Scribe

February 24, 2019Permalink

7 Techniques for Writing at Optimum Speed

Sure, fiction writer, you say you want to write faster. What you really want, however, is to write faster without losing quality, without giving up your writing style.

Your aim,therefore, should be to find your optimum writing speed. That speed may be faster than you write now, but it might not be. A wonderful piece by author Nalini Singh inspired this blog post. I encourage you to read her guest post.

I’ve taken Ms.Singh’s five tips, reordered and reworded them, and added two more of my own. My list is in order of helpfulness to me, from least to most. You may benefit from using any or all of these techniques.

  1. Overlap Your WIPs. A WIP is your Work in Progress. By keeping two or more writing projects going at once, you can shift from one to the other as your muse and mood dictate. This doesn’t work as well for those who prefer to focus on one thing until it’s complete.
  2. Limit Session Lengths. When I was nine years old, I didn’t enjoy practicing my cello, and eagerly stopped each day after thirty minutes. My Dad read an article about famed American cellist Leonard Rose, who said he never practiced more than four hours a day. With dry humor, Dad admonished me to limit my sessions to no more than four hours. Even if you have an entire free afternoon to write, there will come a point of diminishing returns. Whether that’s four hours for you, or some other duration,don’t exceed it.
  3. Get Your Blood Pumping. At some point, you may get tired, be unable to think what to write next, or write yourself into a plot hole. At such times, stand up and swing your arms around, walk up and down some stairs, go for a walk outside, or do some calisthenics. Even five minutes of that might be enough. Aside from the health benefit, you’re getting fresh blood to your brain, rebooting your system.
  4. Enjoy Play Time. Take ten minutes or so and devote it to uninhibited free writing. Write about anything except your WIPs. Let your mind romp and play about in the universe, without the pressure of thinking someone might read what you write. This helps you associate writing with fun, and it just might spark an idea for a future story.
  5. Set Writing Goals, in Pencil. Goals are funny things, aren’t they? The minute you set one, you feel a sense of purpose and direction. You feel a call to action; you start to plan and strategize. If you fall behind your schedule, or miss your goal, you feel like you’ve let someone down, even if it’s just yourself. Goals are good prompters;they urge you to complete what you start. But don’t get so focused on your goal that you feel depressed or miserable if you fall short.
  6. Use Chore Time. All of us must do chores, those mundane tasks that don’t require focused thought. These include showering, preparing food, mowing the lawn, cleaning your living space,commuting, etc. Why not use that time to think about the next scene you’re planning to write, or to work through solutions to plot problems? When you’re next able to write, you’ll be ready.
  7. Leave Yourself Wanting More.This variation of the old show business line really works. Stop your writing session at a point where you know what to write next. Try not to stop when you’re stuck for the next word. That way, the next time you sit down to write, that next word, sentence, and paragraph will flow as if you’d never stopped.

These techniques may help you write at your optimum speed. They work for author Nalini Singh, and for—

                                                            Poseidon’s Scribe

December 9, 2018Permalink

Distraction-Free Writing

As a fiction writer, you know distractions happen. You’re living a life, after all. But so what? Distractions are frustrating, but they don’t actually hurt the quality of your writing, do they?

Yes. According to a George Mason University research team led by Cyrus K. Foroughi, even short interruptions to creative work can worsen the output. As reported in the newsletter Fast Company, the GMU team conducted experiments involving subjects writing essays. Researchers didn’t interrupt Group 1, the control group, but did interrupt Group 2’s planning and outlining time, and interrupted Group 3’s writing time.

Independent graders judged the resulting essays. Graders rated Group 1’s essays best, Group 2’s essays second best, and Group 3’s essays worst.

This study considered only nonfiction essays. I’m unaware of any similar studies of the effects of distraction on fiction writers, but I suspect the effects would be similar.

For our purposes here, let’s assume the more you’re distracted during the writing of your first and subsequent drafts, the worse your story will be. If that’s the case, what can you do about it?

First, let’s divide distractions into two types: external and internal. External distractions are initiated by outside entities—other people, pets, or things. Internal distractions are initiated by you.

External Distractions

By definition, these are largely out of your control. But you can do some things to lessen the chances, frequency, and duration of them:

  • Write in a quiet place.
  • Tell others this is your writing time and ask them to leave you alone.
  • Either abandon your phone, or put it in “airplane mode” thus stopping it from ringing or vibrating.

Internal Distractions

These are completely within your span of control, but paradoxically may be more difficult to reduce. Here are some ideas to consider:

  • Buy a smart typewriter, such as FreeWrite or HemingWrite. These devices only let you write and save your work, not access the internet.
  • Buy and use uninterrupted writing software (such as Writer, Draft, or Calmly Writer). These include features to help you focus on writing.
  • Write longhand.
  • Write in a clutter-free place, with no windows, clocks, phones, TV, etc. Perhaps you have access to a bare room, or large closet, (or even the bathroom).
  • If working on a computer, resist the impulse to open new tabs, do research, check email or social media, etc.

Your Attitude Toward Distractions

Perhaps just the knowledge that distractions are killing your stories will make you more aware of them and less tolerant of them. Distractions are the enemy of good writing. Recognize what harm they’re doing; detect the onset of a distraction and refocus on your writing, if that’s possible.

And when he’s writing, never, never distract—

Poseidon’ Scribe

 

October 28, 2018Permalink

Write Like Mozart Composed

No way, you’re thinking. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was a genius, a child prodigy, a composer whose fame will endure forever. There’s no way you could write fiction one eighth as well as he composed music.

Mozart

Maybe not, but I’m suggesting you could aim for that end, strive to emulate his method. To the extent you can do that, you might well end up writing fiction beyond your current abilities.

How did Mozart compose music? He said, “I write music as a sow piddles,” which speaks to how naturally it was for him, but gives no hint of method. There is evidence he used sketches and did his main composing at a keyboard, but it’s also clear he had an amazing memory.

A scene from the 1984 movie Amadeus provides a hint of how he might have composed. I know it’s fiction, a movie, but it’s based on reality. I’ve long admired the scene; you can see it on YouTube, though you should watch the whole film.

In that scene, Mozart is gravely ill, bedridden, too weak to write. With the assistance of rival composer Antonio Salieri, he’s trying to compose the Confutatis movement of the Requiem in D minor. While Mozart describes, and sings, the various parts, Salieri scribbles as fast as he can. Repeatedly, Mozart asks, “Have you got it?” and Salieri keeps saying, “You’re going too fast.” In the background, the audience hears an orchestra and choir performing the fast-developing piece.

Mozart seems to be conveying a piece already fully formed in his mind. His task seems not to create or invent, but to capture and document. Speed is of the essence to him, not because he will forget any part of the piece, but because his health is failing and he’s running out of time.

One could surmise his entire composing career might have gone at a breakneck pace, even during his healthy times. He only lived to age thirty five, and it seems as if he were born with a century of music in his mind, but permitted only a third of that time to document it for others.

Here’s a thought experiment. Imagine if that were also true for you. What would it be like to have short stories, novels, and novellas already finished in your mind, every word clear and instantly retrievable? You don’t face a quality problem, for all those tales are perfect in structure, irresistible to readers. Nor do you have to struggle to invent characters, plots, or settings, let alone agonize over word choices or sentence formations. That’s all done.

Your only difficulty is writing them all down. You only need one draft—no editing—but there are too many stories. You have three lifetime’s worth of tales to scribble, but your hands and fingers will only last a single lifetime.

That was an enjoyable daydream, wasn’t it? However, you’re no Mozart, and neither am I. We toil away on draft after draft. The stories in our minds are but half-glimpsed, ghostly figments of perfect tales, and our attempts to recreate them in text are pitifully botched versions of those images. Our lifetimes of writing are spent slowly learning and honing the aspects Mozart found trivial.

At least we can envision what it might be like to be Mozart. If we can envision that, we can strive toward it, work to approach closer to it. It seems to me there are three aspects of Mozart’s abilities to work on: (1) attaining complete works in your mind, (2) ensuring those visions are in final form, and (3) conveying the vision to text rapidly.

Here are some exercises to develop each aspect:

  • 1A. Do as much story planning as you can—setting details, character traits and appearances, major plot points—before writing anything down.
  • 1B. Get the next sentence fully formed in your minds, and memorize it, before writing it down.
  • 2A. Practice editing a sentence at a time in your mind, trying various word substitutions, word orders, and structures, before writing the sentence down.
  • 2B. Work on limiting the number of drafts you go through before declaring a story done.
  • 3A. Participate in NANOWRIMO, and write a novel of at least 50,000 words during only the month of November.
  • 3B. Try writing software such as Write or Die or Flowstate, word processors that penalize you for getting distracted while writing.

I’m not guaranteeing these exercises will enable you to produce stories on par with Mozart’s music. Still, what if they made you half as good? Even a quarter as good? Writing stories one eighth as good as Mozart’s musical pieces is a lofty goal for—

Poseidon’s Scribe

July 15, 2018Permalink

Writing Aloud

Most writers type the first drafts of their stories. A few, like me, hand-write their first drafts. Perhaps you’d like to try a third way…dictating your stories.

That’s right. Forget the keyboard or pen. Just speak your story into a recording device.

Reasons

Why might you want to do that? On her site, Cindy Grigg offers 13 compelling reasons. I was struck by the first one, speed. After getting used to dictating stories, many writers find they can crank out their first draft prose much faster. That saves time and makes them more prolific.

Thomas A. Edison dictating in 1907

You might also benefit from the increased mobility. Speaking into your handheld digital voice recorder or cellphone, you’re freed from the shackles of your desk and chair and the need to have two hands on a keyboard. You can wander around the house, around the neighborhood, through the nearest park. The walking (1) keeps you healthier, (2) avoids any chance of eye strain or repetitive motion injuries, and (3) provides more varied stimulation for your senses that you can work into your fiction.

I think Grigg is onto something, too, in listing strengthened storytelling voice as another advantage. I’ve advised writers to read near-final drafts aloud before submitting them as a way of improving readability. Why not speak it aloud from the start?

Further, when dictating, it’s easier to turn off your inner editor. I’ve mentioned before how important that is when creating your first draft.

Methods

The objective is to get words from your head into word processor text. When you type on a keyboard, the process is direct. If you write by hand, there’s another step when you transcribe from your handwritten pages and type it on the keyboard.

For dictation methods, you can speak into your computer microphone or your cellphone and make use of speech recognition software to convert your words directly into digital text.

Or you can use a digital voice recorder or cell phone to record your voice into a .wav or MP3 format. Then you’ll go through a second step, to transcribe the words from one of those formats into the word processor. You can do that by (1) listening and typing them yourself, (2) paying someone else to do that, like Kevin J. Anderson does, or (3) playing your voice back into your computer’s speech recognition software.

The Adjustment

Shifting from typing or handwriting to dictation takes some getting used to. Be prepared for some discomfort at first. According to Monica Leonelle, in her interview with Joanna Penn, the shift can take a few months before you’re used to it.

My Experience

A few years ago, I tried Dragon NaturallySpeaking speech recognition software. I was able to train the Dragon, but I couldn’t get comfortable speaking my first drafts that way. I returned to writing by hand.

I’m having second thoughts about dictation now. For years, I’ve adapted my fiction writing to accommodate my day job. I’ll be retiring soon, so my writing habits will have to change. Perhaps writing aloud will prove to be the new optimum method for—

Poseidon’s Scribe

January 7, 2018Permalink

Defeating Distraction, Finding Focus

You’re writing at a good pace, but then get distracted, torn away from your story. You hate when that happens, but sometimes the diversion is irresistible. What causes that, and how can you prevent it?

We live in a distraction-rich environment. Even before the Internet, there were rooms to clean, library books to return, lawns to mow, desk items to straighten, and windows to gaze through. Today, there are Facebook posts to like, tweets to retweet, texts to answer, online stores to shop in, blog posts to read, and new sites to explore.

Still, this tendency to get distracted doesn’t make sense, does it? You sat down fully intending to write your story. Then things went awry; that best-laid plan went askew, you diverted to a tangent. Why does that happen?

Let’s separate two types of distraction—external and internal—and tackle each separately.

External Distractions

These attack you from outside and appeal to one or more senses. A funny show comes on TV, a favorite song blares from the radio, the cat snuggles against you, a pleasant aroma wafts from the kitchen.

The cure for these might seem simple; just eliminate external sources of distraction. Write in a bare, soundproof room with the door shut, on a computer disconnected from the net.

That might work for some, but for many of us it’s not practical. It’s better to start by eliminating your most common, most alluring distractions if you can. As for the others, learn to become aware when a distractor is pulling you away. At the onset of each distraction, make a conscious decision to allow it or not.

Consider setting up a “focus object,” an inspirational something to redirect you toward your story, akin to the busts of Beethoven atop pianos. I made a framed picture of Jules Verne with the caption “Keep writing, Steve,” and mounted it above my desk. Pick a focus object specific to you and glance at it when you feel the tug of some external interruption.

Internal Distractions

The internal ones are worse, since your own mind assails you and there’s no one else to blame. Your mind wanders away from your story and suddenly there’s something else needing your attention. You have a bill due today; this story idea needs additional research; you’re wondering what that old high school friend is up to.

These generally occur when you’re stuck and need to solve an unexpected story problem. You feel you have to pause and think before writing further. That’s the moment when your brain takes a meandering walk.

As with external distractions, part of the cure is learning to recognize the distraction at the moment it occurs. If you were truly stuck just before that instant, maybe a short break is just the thing you need. Your subconscious can work on the problem while you’re engaged in the distracting activity.

If you were making progress right before that moment, ask yourself this question: “Is this the best use of my time right now?” On occasion, the distraction will be the best answer. Most times, you’ll realize you should return to your story.

Final Thoughts

Visualization is another technique for dealing with distractions. Keep a vision of you finishing your story, admiring it, and submitting it for publication. Think of how good that will feel. Use that vision to get you focused back on writing.

Recognize, too, that you can’t stay focused forever. You need to give your brain a rest. The Pomodoro Technique can be a way to promote both proper focusing and reasonable breaks.

You’ll find more great advice on dealing with distractions at this post by Leo Babauta and this one by Margarita Tartakovsky.

I hope you enjoyed… Sorry, I’ve got to go. Something else has attracted the attention of—

Poseidon’s Scribe

December 24, 2017Permalink

6 Ways to Get Those First Words Typed

There before you glows that blank word processor screen. It’s staring back at you, mocking you. It’s daring you to type something, but you don’t know how to begin. It’s so intimidating.

You’ve been thinking about your story a long time, plotting it, developing the characters, working on the setting. You have notes, outlines, plot diagrams, and character descriptions up to here. Now it’s time to write, but no words are coming out.

Friend, you’ve surfed to the right blog post. I’ll get you through this. Most likely, you’re suffering from one of six conditions making it difficult to start. For each condition, I’ll suggest a remedy.

Condition 1: You’re so comfortable with planning your story that the idea of actually writing it paralyzes you. Remedy: Start writing an email to your Mom, or someone else with whom you correspond informally. Write: “Dear Mom, An odd thing happened today.” Then start writing your story. After all, it’s just an email to your Mom…or is it?

Condition 2: You’re looking for excuses to avoid writing. Remedy: Turn off, shut out, and eliminate all distractions. Then take five minutes to immerse yourself in your story notes again…regain the enthusiasm you had when this story was just a glorious notion in your mind. Then let words flow.

Condition 3: You’re afraid your writing will stink, that your first words will be so awful they’ll confirm your suspicions that you’re no writer. Remedy: You may have a misconception about first drafts. Trust me: your final story will look nothing like the first draft you’re about to write.

Condition 4: You believe, if the first words are this tough to write, the rest of the story will take forever. Remedy: Actually, the first ones are the most difficult. Beginning any task is the hard part. Lao Tzu said, “A journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step.” Accept this, and take that first step.

Condition 5: You’re afraid the hook (the beginning of the story) won’t seize the reader’s attention. You’re so worried about this that you can’t start. Remedy: Start writing a different section of the story. Come back to the hook later. You might even find that the “later” place you started is the real hook.

Condition 6: You believe you must write the hook first, and can’t imagine a way to entice the reader. Remedy: Okay, if you really must start with the hook, start by writing a bad one. Then write twenty alternate versions, trying diverse ideas and different ways to grab the reader’s attention. If none of those are any good, keep writing hook variants until you have one you like; you’ll know the one when you write it.

I’m confident one or more of these remedies will help you. When you successfully begin typing, take a moment to laugh in triumph at the once-blank screen that stymied you moments ago. You can tell it you won; you conquered it, with a little help from—

Poseidon’s Scribe

August 20, 2017Permalink

The 7 S’s of Your Writing Cave

You’ve heard of man-caves. Do you write in a cave? A nook? A special room dedicated to your craft? A place where all you do is write?

I’m curious about the percentage of writers who have such a place. Also, what’s the percentage of writers who don’t have a cave but wish they did?

Let’s explore the concept of writer’s caves and their characteristics. I believe there are seven features you might seek in setting up such a place. You could be looking for one, two, or any number of these aspects. Conveniently, they all begin with ‘s.’

  • Stimulation. You chose your cave because its window scenery inspires. Or you brought motivational aids into the space, such as pictures, incense, or music. You laid out the room so that it stirs your creative fluids and launches your mind in flight.
  • Silence. The cave is the one room in your dwelling that’s quiet. No conversation noise, no traffic noise, no TV or radio. You need peace to write and can only find it here.
  • Separation / Solitude. Okay, that’s two s-words, but they are related. To write, you need to isolate yourself from others, to be alone. The presence of spouse, children, or roommates requires you to attend to their needs, to engage with them, and you can’t write under those conditions.
  • Single-mindedness. You dedicated this chamber to writing, and that is all that occurs within. No distractions permitted. Here you focus only on creating masterpieces of fiction. You’ve banned all mental wandering, research, games, daydreaming, and navel-gazing from this room. It’s nose to grindstone here.
  • Supplies. You need certain stuff to write. Perhaps this stuff includes your computer, printer, ink, reams of paper, favorite pens, reference books, etc. You’ve gathered all these things in one space, convenient and ready at hand.
  • Security. Your cave didn’t start out as anything special, and perhaps it isn’t special now. But you’re just comfortable here. It’s become a habit. Since it’s working, why change a thing?
  • Setup. In your cave you’ve achieved ergonomic perfection. You’ve chosen a chair shaped for optimum comfort and proper spine support. The computer screen is at the right height. You’ve positioned the keyboard and mouse such that you could work here all day without fear of repetitive strain injury.

I’ll make two guesses about writer’s caves. First, I’ll bet they used to be more common than they are now. I say that because pens once required frequent dipping in an inkwell, and you didn’t want to be toting one of those around. After the advent of typewriters, those machines weren’t exactly portable either. These technologies chained writers to specific desks.

Only the invention of pens with internal ink reservoirs freed writers to write anywhere. Today’s laptop and tablet computers also provide portability that allows you to write wherever you choose, and to bring your digitized reference materials with you.

My second guess is that most successful authors have caves. Those who churn out best-sellers might cite any of my 7 s-reasons for their own caves, but after awhile, it amounts to Security. They’ve found something that works and see no need to change.

That’s not to say that caves are essential to writing success, or that all the best authors have their own caves.

What does Poseidon’s Scribe’s writing cave look like, you ask? I used to have one, but don’t any more. I had a den that I set up with everything I then needed—spacious desk, shelves of books, inspirational framed pictures, internet connection, printer, supplies, etc.

Subway writing caveI don’t write there very much anymore. Now I write first drafts while commuting on the subway.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

At home, I take my laptop wherever I’m close to an outlet, and it could be in any room, any seat, like Couch writing cave on the couch in the living room. In good weather, I sometimes write out on the deck.

 

 

 

 

 

In short, the world is my cave.

How about you? Do you write in a special place? What do you call it? What is it about that space that makes you want to write there?

Leaving a comment about that is your homework, assigned by—

Poseidon’s Scribe

March 6, 2016Permalink

Sensazione

We’ve come to the third principle in Michael J. Gelb’s remarkable book, How to Think Like Leonardo da Vinci. In recent blog posts, I’ve been relating each principle to fiction writers, encouraging you to think like Leonardo as you write.

SensazioneThe third principle is Sensazione, which Gelb defines as “the continual refinement of the senses, especially sight, as the means to enliven experience.” Leonardo knew that we experience life through our five senses; therefore, only the person who could enhance his or her senses in perception and accuracy could experience life fully.

Da Vinci’s sight and hearing were superb, and he worked to improve all his senses. He regarded sight as the most important, following by hearing.

The exercises in the Sensazione chapter of Think Like Leonardo da Vinci are among the most fun in the book. For example, Gelb suggests you smell and taste things while blindfolded until you can identify each odor and taste, even those with only slight differences.

How does this relate to writing? The Point of View character in your story also experiences life through her or his senses, just as real people do. However, the only way you can convey these sensations to your reader is through words.

I’ve blogged about the senses before, and encouraged you to incorporate all five of them in your stories. To apply Sensazione in your writing, you must choose words that precisely convey the sensations experienced by your POV character.

I don’t necessarily mean you should pile on adjectives like beautiful, pungent, sonorous, delicious, and velvety—or adverb forms. Adjectives (and to a lesser extent, adverbs) can be useful if you’re selective and choose just the most apt one. Some adjectives, like “beautiful” and “delicious” are not distinct; they tell rather than show.

Another method is with metaphors and similes. If you can compare the sensation your character is experiencing with something to which the reader can relate, and make the comparison distinct and descriptive, that’s Sensazione.

As Leonardo knew, sight is the primary sense for humans, and so it will be for your characters most of the time. But if you appeal to the other senses, too, it can only enhance the reader’s enjoyment. Also, there are times when a character’s first sensation is through one of the other senses, such as when a sight line is blocked and the character hears or smells something before seeing it. Your character might be blind, or in darkness, and will have to rely on the other four senses.

If you work to cultivate your senses in your own life, by going through Gelb’s recommended exercises, you should also strive to become more adept at describing each feeling and sensation in words. As your skill improves, readers will be drawn into your stories and connect with your characters’ experiences.

Ah! I see, hear, and smell breakfast being prepared. I’ll have to end this post now, for soon I shall feel the fork in my hand, and a succulent repast will be tasted by—

Poseidon’s Scribe

September 13, 2015Permalink