Writing with Sense

Thought for the day:  You can't blame a writer for what the characters say. [Truman Capote]

Mr. Capote was right. I would NEVER use some of the language (tsk!tsk!) my characters use... but some of the people I know might...

Hi-ya. It's that time again, folks. Time for our monthly IWSG posts. As always, thanks to our fearless leader, Alex Cavanaugh, for founding this fine group, and thanks to all the other nurturing guys and gals who've helped turn it into the thriving community it is today. To join this super supportive group of writers and to see links to other participating blogs, please go HERE

Okay, before I answer this month's question, let's take a minute to consider how we can incorporate sensory perceptions into our writing, shall we?

Studies indicate that the male brain, not to mention certain other sundry body parts, responds more enthusiastically to visual stimuli than the female brain. That is, the sight of bare flesh has the tendency to rev up a man's juices faster than it will a woman's. That doesn't mean men are more responsive to non-sexual visual stimuli, however. Smarticus considers traipsing around behind me in an art museum to be a scant step above having a root canal. Nor does it mean women are immune to the visual appeal of certain male physiques, either. I've heard some women say the only reason they watch football is for the sheer pleasure of ogling all those tight bottoms clad in tight breeches. (Not that I've ever noticed, mind you. I watch it purely for the game.)

An excellent athlete, I'm sure.

To varying degrees, we all react to visual images. Females respond viscerally to the sight of babies, both human and animal. Men are more apt to notice an anomaly in their surroundings. Or in a movie. This, however, may be due to the fact that while a teary-eyed woman is absorbed in the story, her man may be bored out of his gourd and is therefore itching to poke holes in the movie for his own perverse entertainment. (I mean, really, who CARES if a Roman gladiator is wearing Reeboks, right?)

Anyway.

The point is, yes, men react, women react, we all react to what we see. But why do some writers work so hard to reproduce a specific visual image in the minds of their readers while completely ignoring the value of our other senses?

Like hearing. It would be totally cool if life were accompanied by a soundtrack, wouldn't it? If music could warn us when danger's coming, or if maybe a goofy-sounding ditty could've let my son-in-law's Uncle Mike know I was just joking when I told him we'd already met our quota for Mikes at the wedding, so he'd have to leave. (Thankfully, after a brief awkward moment, he DID laugh ...)

If your entrance were marked with music, what do you think it would be?

I'd like to think mine would be some really cool, sexy down and dirty sloooow sax music with a nice bass backbeat, but unfortunately, I'm more of a bouncy Mancini's Baby Elephant Walk kinda person. (sigh)

Some writers listen to music when they write. It helps them tap into the proper mood they're attempting to recreate with their words. Kinda like adding a soundtrack to their writing. Do you think it's possible for a writer to provide some semblance of auditory stimulation for his readers, as well?

Yeah, I think it is. Can't provide a full-blown soundtrack, of course, but word choice makes all the difference. Take the statement: The dog barked. Sure, it provides us with the basic information, and we understand what the words are saying, but how about this statement: The chihuahua yapped like a pit bull on helium. It provides the same information but in a manner such that we can almost hear the little mutt.

Certain sounds leave indelible marks on our psyches, like fingernails scraping across a blackboard, a bugler playing the haunting notes of Taps, coyotes howling, and bombs exploding. When a writer successfully taps into the sounds existing in our collective psyches, he may indeed make it possible for a reader to clearly hear the action in his mind. (And let's not forget the potential power of POW-BOOM-SPLAT onomatopoeia, either.)

Incorporating taste and touch into our writings is also possible if we take advantage of common sensory experiences. Most of us are familiar with the taste of blood, salt, and vinegar, and the feel of silk, satin, and sand paper.

But I'm more interested in the sense of smell.

Smells have the uncanny ability to evoke very strong deep-rooted reactions and emotions. Don't believe me? Have you ever experienced the phenomenon of catching a whiff of baking bread, a dank musty cellar, a certain brand of perfume or aftershave, or even the scent of sulfur, and been immediately gut-punched by an unexpected memory?

Does the smell of sulfur elicit any memories for you?

Psychologists say our brains are hardwired to associate smells with memories. It's only natural that whenever I smell a dank dusty smell, I am immediately transported to my maternal grandmother's scary cellar. There's a certain expensive brand of make-up ... I don't know what it IS, because I'm ... er ... thrifty ... but whenever I catch a faint whiff of it, I'm cuddled up next to my paternal grandmother again. Old Spice? Can't smell the stuff without thinking of my father.

So, the wise writer will make an effort to incorporate smells into his work. Take advantage of your capacity to stimulate associative memories with your smelly words. Because the bottom line is, evoking a reader's reaction to the smells you describe in your writing will also evoke a strong reaction to your writing itself.

Ya know? Kinda makes me wonder if when I'm long gone, my children and grandchildren will associate any particular scent with me. 

                                         Hmmmm, maybe I'd better lay off the baked beans...

Question of the Month: Have you ever slipped any of your personal information into your characters, either by accident or on purpose? 

Hey, I'm no Hemingway, but I think he was right. To create realistic characters, I think it's only natural for writers to draw from some of the real people they know in real life. Kinda like making a witch's brew: a little bit from this one, a little bit from that one... such that characteristics we admire in certain people we know will logically find their way into characters we want readers to like, and traits we dislike may influence the portrayal of our villains. 

One could say that certain traits of my husband may have found their way into the portrayal of my character George in Hot Flashes and Cold Lemonade... but in no way was the character an accurate portrayal of my hubby as a whole. When Smarticus read the book, evidently he must have related to the character... so much so that he said, "Hey! I never said (or did) that!" 

Ditto, actual events from our lives may find their way into our books. For example, many years ago, one of my cousins really did toss her entire dinner out the door when her hubby came home from work acting like a jerk, and my memory of that led me to include a similar scene in my book. I mean, really, that's too priceless not to include. So, yeah, bottom line, I've done these things on purpose. 

However, I think the characters in my current book originated entirely within my imagination. (I am kinda accident-prone, though...)

Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

Argumentative Politicians and Classy Insults

Thought for the day:  The difference between fiction and reality? Fiction has to make sense.  Tom Clancy

Not only am I the kind of person who sees the glass as half full, but when I notice yours in that condition, I generally try to fill it up for you.

Optimistic. Idealistic. Yup, I'll plead guilty to both. When I heard JFK speak, my idealistic cup runneth over. Then, I was young and idealistic. Now, I'm old(er) but still idealistic.

At least, I'm trying, dadgum it.

But today's politicians make it awfully hard.

With all the partisan bickering, posturing and grandstanding that goes on these days, politicians make it awfully hard to keep those rose-colored glasses in place. I mean, I WANT to believe they're all truly interested in what's best for our country. But when I expect them to put aside their differences and cooperate so they can get the job done, what I get is this:

I'm not gonna get all politic-y on you, but I did want to pass along something I read about in Thomas Friedman's newspaper column. It seems that many Americans are seeing the glass as half empty these days when it comes to the current political climate, and are trying to fill that glass back up by forming a new more center-of-the-road political party. Sounds like a serious movement, too. Something like 1.7 million people ... Republicans, Democrats and Independents ... have already registered. Plans are to have their presidential candidate on every state's ballot next year, and to have that candidate included in the mainstream debates, as well. (And yes, I know all about the "best-laid plans of mice and men.") According to the COO of Americans Elect, "The questions, the priorities, the nominations, and the rules will all come from the community, not from two entrenched parties."  Intrigued?  www.americanselect.org

In the meantime, our politicians should learn how to argue more creatively. Or to be more precise, they need to be a little more classy with their insults. Like, check out the class in the following:

• He has all the virtues I dislike and none of the vices I admire.   Winston Churchill
• A modest little person, with much to be modest about.  Winston Churchill
• I have never killed a man, but I have read many obituaries with great pleasure.  Clarence Darrow
• He has never been known to use a word that might send a reader to the dictionary.  William Faulkner (about Ernest Hemingway)
• Poor Faulkner. Does he really think big emotions come from big words?  Ernest Hemingway
• Thank you for sending me a copy of your book; I'll waste no time reading it.  Moses Hadas
• He can compress the most words into the smallest idea of any man I know. Abraham Lincoln
• I've had a perfectly lovely evening. But this wasn't it.  Groucho Marx
• I didn't attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying I approved of it.  Mark Twain
• He has no enemies, but is intensely disliked by his friends.  Oscar Wilde
• I am enclosing two tickets to the first night of my new play; bring a friend ... if you have one.  George Bernard Shaw (to Winston Churchill)
• Cannot possibly attend the first night; will attend second ... if there is one.  Winston Churchill, in response
• I feel so miserable without you; it's almost like having you here.  Stephen Bishop
• He is a self-made man, and worships the creator.  John Bright
• I've just learned about his illness. Let's hope it's nothing trivial.  Irvin S. Cobb
• He is not only dull himself, he is the cause of dullness in others.  Samuel Johnson
• He is simply a shiver looking for a spine to run up.  Paul Keating
• He had delusions of adequacy.  Walter Kerr
• There's nothing wrong with you reincarnation won't cure.  Jack E. Leonard
• He has the attention span of a lightning bolt.  Robert Redford
• They never open their mouths without subtracting from the sum of human knowledge.  Thomas Brackett Reed
• He inherited some good instincts from his Quaker forebears, but by diligent work, he overcame them.  James Reston (about Richard Nixon)
• In order to avoid being called a flirt, she always yielded easily.  Count Charles Talleyrand
• He loves nature in spite of what it did to him.  Forrest Tucker
• Why do you sit there looking like an envelope without any address on it?  Mark Twain
• His mother should have thrown him away and kept the stork.  Mae West
• Some cause happiness wherever they go; others, whenever they go.  Oscar Wilde
• He uses statistics as a drunken man uses lamp-posts ... for support rather than illumination.  Andrew Lang
• He has Van Gogh's ear for music.  Billy Wilder

(Those insults are MUCH classier than I'm rubber and you're glue, aren't they?

OK, now I recognize that many people are content to admire an object without having the compulsion to take it apart to see what makes it work. Not everyone cares about the why of a situation. I, however, am one of those freaks who always wants to know the answers, and I've been graced with a wonderful husband who's a  real sport at putting things back together again when I screw them up. (Who, moi?) Anyway, it you don't give a good diddle about the reasons behind the connections between smells and memories, which I blogged about on last Wednesday's post, you can stop reading now. And I'll see y'all later.

If you DO give a good diddle, here goes a thumbnail explanation:

Information from the olfactory system goes to the limbic system, the primitive part of the brain, which includes areas that control emotion, memory, and behavior. It also goes to the cortex, which is the outer part of the brain that has to do with conscious thought, and to the taste sensory cortex, to create the sense of flavor.

So, the first time you smell a scent, your brain, stimulated at both the primitive and cognitive levels, links that smell to an event, person, thing, or moment. (Kinda like a filing system.) Then, when you encounter the smell again, your brain immediately calls up that link, which in turn, elicits the associated memory or mood. 

Not everybody likes the same smells, which makes sense, if you think about it. For example, the smell of roses may in one person be linked to a wonderful day walking through a garden, but in another, it may be linked to a funeral. I'd be very curious as to whether the brain is able to override its initial smell-memory link with a new one. Say, if the first encounter with roses were negative, would it be possible to reprogram the brain with a more positive connection at a later time? It would seem so, although I can't think of any personal experiences to back it up. Can you?

 From an evolutionary perspective, smell is arguably our most important sense, because the ability of our knuckle-dragging ancestors to identify poisons by smell was integral to their survival. Remnants of that evolutionary purpose may influence the modern day speed with which our brain links smells to memories, but the bottom line is, the initial association of a smell with an experience leaves a unique and lasting impression in the brain. U Smell -----> U nique connection.

When nothing else subsists from the past, after people are dead, after the things are broken and scattered, the smell and taste of things remain poised a long time, like souls, bearing resiliently, on tiny and almost impalpable drops of their essence, the immense edifice of memory.   Marcel Proust

Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.