Full Contact Writing

I have carpal tunnel. It’s a side effect of typing at a computer for most of the day, every day, for the past twenty years. Many people have it and we’ve figured out how to live with it. I also study karate, and that requires impact on my wrists at times. One of my teachers can always tell when I’ve been doing a lot of writing because my wrists are more tender than usual. The last time he noticed, he said to me “Full contact writing again?” I laughed because karate-related injuries can happen in our dojo and we all know how to deal with them, but writing isn’t a contact sport. It’s sitting in a chair all day, and the only things moving are your fingers.

After I went home, though, I thought about what he said.

Full Contact Writing.

Actually, that *is* what I do, or, at least, what I strive to do. I don’t mean this in a physical sense, like chucking a book at someone’s head. I mean mentally, intellectually, and emotionally. When I read a great story, it makes an impact on me. A hard hit in karate can leave bruises, which usually last about a week. In a good book, the characters and situations leave an impression on my mind, sometimes for days after I’ve finished it.

A book that can do this has effectively used all the working parts: relatable and interesting characters, unpredictable plot, vivid and believable world-building, increasing tension, satisfying conclusion, etc. But the thing that really ties all these together is the writing. Good, solid, strong writing.

What makes writing good?

I’ve taken quite a few writing classes over the years. Inevitably, someone picks out a flowery sentence and reads it aloud as an example of amazingly good writing because it sounds so beautiful. But, does that make it good writing? In my opinion, no.

Beautiful sentences and turns of phrases work great in poetry or books in verse. But in a regular story? Nope. For me, it makes it sound like the author is trying too hard to impress the reader, and she comes across as pretentious. These sentences also do a disservice to the story because the reader is no longer absorbed in the story, she’s focusing on the words. The best writing is invisible, seamless, and never distracts from the characters or the story. It’s the stitching that binds the various pieces of the story together, and stitching is best when it’s not the focus of the whole work. Occasionally, some stitching is visible and adds to the overall beauty of the whole, but it’s never the focus, and it’s never what you notice first.

So, how do you write invisible and seamless sentences? That’s the topic for next week.

 

Writing Exercise: Ghirardelli’s Ice Cream

As promised, here’s a writing exercise I did several years ago. It’s a memory instead of a mundane task, but the focus is on all five senses. Enjoy!

***

The sweat rolling down my back soaked into my shirt and plastered it to my skin. Cars zoomed down Michigan Avenue, horns blaring and tires screeching. The acrid exhaust mixed with the sweltering air, choking me. I really wanted to go for a dip in the pool, but it was closed for cleaning. I would have to settle for the next best thing: ice cream at Ghirardelli’s. I practically ran down the block to the cheery blue and white striped awning.

I opened the door, and the air conditioning washed over me like a wave of relief. A smiling lady handed me a menu, and I stood in line next to the soda bar. Kids and adults perched themselves atop tall bar stools with red vinyl cushions, eagerly watching the employees make malts and sundaes. Soon, they’d be making mine.

But what should I get? There were so many choices! The World Famous Hot Fudge Sundae had two scoops of vanilla ice cream, warm chocolate syrup, and lots of whipped cream. The Golden Gate Banana Split had three scoops of ice cream, a banana sliced down the middle, crushed pineapple, sliced strawberries, chocolate syrup, and even more whipped cream. Yum! I decided on a butterscotch sundae, though, and placed my order.

I found a place to sit next to the window with the awning, where a man was wiping off some tables. The marble tabletop was still damp when I sat down, and smelled faintly of soap. I ran my fingers across the wet streaks, the marble cool on my fingertips.

A woman brought ice cream to the family sitting next to me, and the little boy squealed with delight. He stuck his hand into the whipped cream of the nearest sundae and spread it all over his face.

Another woman set my sundae in front of me. It was huge! The long-stemmed glass was filled to the brim with vanilla ice cream and butterscotch, and a huge mass of whipped cream—topped with a cherry—covered the whole thing.

I shoved a spoonful of whipped cream into my mouth. It was light and fluffy on my tongue, like I imagined a cloud would taste. I dug my spoon deep into the sundae, emerging with a dripping mound of ice cream and butterscotch. The sweetness of the ice cream blended with the richness of the butterscotch, and the cold soothed my hot tongue and throat. I took another bite, and butterscotch rolled down my chin. Giggling, I wiped it off and sank in my spoon for a third bite.

Slowly, the sundae disappeared until all that was left was a mixture of butterscotch and melted ice cream. I wrapped my sticky fingers around the stem of the glass and scraped out the last bite—tink-tink-tink! I put it in my mouth, slowly drew out the spoon, and pressed the butterscotch against the roof of my mouth. I let it ooze down my throat, savoring every last drop, then dropped the spoon into the empty glass.

It wasn’t a dip in the pool, but it was close enough.

Challenge: Mastering Description

Recently, I posted about how to keep descriptions from sounding like laundry lists. Today I want to talk about how you can create a description that will make the reader feel like he’s stepped into your story. The key to doing this? Senses.

Sight is, by far, the dominant sense for most people and that’s what automatically gets put on the page. But there are four others: sound, taste, touch, and smell. These senses are always there and our brains process them even if we’re not aware of it. We hear a buzzing next to our ears and swat away the insect before we’ve had time to think about it. We smell something rotting in the trash and wrinkle our noses. We touch something hot and our hands jerk away involuntarily. We try a new food and our brains automatically compare the taste to other experiences—for example, to me, grilled vegetables taste like summer, but oysters taste like salty mucus. :)

Without all of these senses, your story will feel two dimensional. Including all of them in your story will bring in that third dimension. The only exception, of course, is if your main character is missing a sense for whatever reason. I.E. he is blind, deaf, etc, and then your story will contain at least some elements of how his other senses compensate for the missing one. In either case, though, the senses still need to be there.

There’s another bonus to this as well: it will add another dimension to your character. I’ve written countless exercises where my main character performs a mundane task, and I focus on bringing out what he notices and how it affects him. I hate the smell of stargazer lilies, but I know people who love it. It baffles me, but these differences in taste are what make us individuals. Including details like this give my characters a chance to show themselves, round them out, and help my readers better understand them.

It’s a difficult thing to do because, as writers, we have to consciously pay attention to how our brains process our senses, and then we have to imagine how our characters’ brains will process their senses. It requires taking a step back from ourselves and analyzing our experiences objectively. No easy feat. But, if you can figure out a way to do this, you’ll be well on your way to creating a 3-D character in a 3-D story.

Challenge:

Write one full page which only consists of a description of someone walking through a door.  Pay attention to the details around that person and use all five senses.

There are many mundane tasks your character can do in writing exercises like this, and I recommend trying as many as possible. I’ve just included one in this exercise, but feel free to change it to whatever you want. Or do multiple! If you feel up to it, include yours in the comments. We’d love to read them. :) I will be sharing one of mine next week…

Challenge: Describe Some Action, Part Three

Last week, I wrote a post about keeping your descriptions from sounding like a laundry list. Today I want to get into the details of describing setting.

Basically, I think setting should be treated as a character. Why? Because every setting is quirky, just like people. Every setting is also unique, just like people.

For example, I live in Chicago so my neighborhood is loud. There are always cars driving down the streets (bicyclists often swearing at them), horns honking, sirens blaring, the “L” train clattering by, etc. If I stick with this kind of description, it kind of seems like your typical rat race where everyone’s in a rush to get where they’re going and no one speaks to anyone at all. But that’s not the case.

My neighborhood almost feels like a small town, without the small town politics. Everyone walks everywhere because driving is such a pain, so we all go to the same places—as a result, we get to know each other. I look forward to going to certain businesses because I love the owners who run them. So, it kind of feels like a small town because I see people I know all the time. And yet it’s still different. The small town gossip doesn’t exist. No one cares if so-and-so got a new car that they probably can’t afford. Or if person A is making eyes at person B. There are enough other things going on that no one cares about these things.

My neighborhood has other quirks, too, specifically with transportation. I can’t count how many nice and helpful people I’ve met on the streets of Chicago. Honestly, this city is full of them—until they get behind the wheel of a car, or climb onto a bicycle. And then some of them turn into self-righteous, homicidal maniacs. Before anyone gets offended and yells at me, let me clarify that there are some very nice drivers on the street, and extremely polite bicyclists. But then there’s the handful that aren’t, and these people are certifiably insane.

Some drivers have a nasty habit of camping out in the right-hand turn lane at a red light, but then, when the light turns green, they slam the gas pedal and swerve left. Basically, they don't want to actually wait their turn to get through the stoplight, so they use this trick and often almost hit the person they're trying to cut off (or actually hit them, which happened to me once...grrr). 

Then, there are some bicyclists who do things like blow through a red light (or stop sign) without looking, or even slowing down, and then cuss out the driver who almost hits them. Again, this isn’t everyone, but these people are out there. You know who you are. :) But once they get out of the car, or off the bicycle, they turn into normal people again. It’s bizarre.

Anyway, I could keep going, but I think you get the idea. If I go to the other end of Chicago, I’d find different quirks. If I go to a suburb, I’d find something else entirely because, guess what? Each setting is unique with its own quirks.

If your character’s home town only has one grocery store, what does it look like? Who works there? What items does it stock? Who runs it? What’s next to it? Who hangs out there, or doesn’t hang out there? How do people get there? These are the kinds of details that need to go into the setting of your story, and that’s what will bring it to life.

Challenge:

Choose a setting that you know well and describe it. Keep in mind that, for this exercise to work, you need to choose a setting that’s big enough to use in a story. In other words, your house isn’t going to cut it. :) Instead, choose a town, a specific neighborhood, a particular region in a country, etc. What quirks does this place have? What kinds of things happen here? What makes this place unique?

Feel free to share your work here in the comments, or keep it to yourself. Your choice.

Challenge: Describe Some Action, Part Two

Last week, I wrote a post about bringing in action when describing your characters so it doesn’t sound like a laundry list. Today, I want to talk about describing other things.

Object description is even more likely to sound like a laundry list because objects don’t move. If it doesn’t move, how can the description seem active? Well, there are plenty of options.

One way is to use active verbs in the description, giving the object its own personality. The curve of a statue could be sweeping. A pendant could be shaped like a tear drop, heavy and drooping. A rug could be bright and bold, and a table could be crisp and shiny.

Of course, even if you use active verbs like these, your description will still sound like a laundry list unless you add a key element: your characters. After all, who perceives these objects? They do! Show us the object through them—how they perceive it, what feelings they evoke, how they interact with them, et—and it will be much easier to introduce action. Especially since people can actually do things while objects pretty much just sit there.

Really, though, it all depends on what's going on in the story, and how important that object is. If it's just an illustration of something already established, then there's not much needed. For example:
She arranged the stack of magazines on the polished table.

Here, the table is just adding to the character, how she wants everything 'just so.' The table doesn't mean anything to her, except to look nice. In fact, she probably doesn't even think about it being there.

But if an object means something to a character, then she will notice far more details. For example:
The pendant dangled from its gold chain, a tear-drop-shaped piece of carved stone. The swooping scroll design faded into the pocked and worn surface. I turned it over. It was heavier than I expected, and...warm. The way stone feels when it’s been sitting in the sun for a long time. My fingers kind of tingled, too.

Here, the character is interacting with this pendant and, at the same time, forming a connection to it. So, she notices far more details about it. And, the more active your verbs are, the more vivid your description will be, the more you will engage your reader.

Challenge:

Take an inanimate object from your childhood (or some other time in your life) and describe it using active verbs. The object can’t move by itself, and you’re not allowed to interact with it to make it move. Instead, focus on the kinds of verbs you use to describe it, as well as the emotions it evokes in you. 

Feel free to share your work here in the comments, or keep it to yourself. Your choice.

Next week, I want to get into the nitty gritty of describing setting. I think setting should be treated as another character, but we’ll get more into that next week. :)

Challenge: Describe Some Action!

Last year, I wrote a post on how to incorporate the senses in description. That goes a long way toward bringing your prose to life, but we can still do more to bring descriptions alive.

Most often, description sounds like a laundry list, especially with characters.
For example:
Jonah had startling green eyes, tousled chestnut hair, and wore a blue t-shirt with fitted, dark-washed jeans.

Eye color? Check. Hair color? Check. Clothing? Check. Yep, it’s a laundry list. I don’t know about you, but I find those to be pretty boring. Not just because it’s a laundry list, though. Mostly, they’re boring because it doesn’t show us the character.

When we first meet a person in real life, we usually get a sense of them, at least on a general level. Cocky, awkward, shy, easy-going, nervous, weird, dorky, confident, etc. This is what needs to be conveyed when we first meet a character in a story. The best way to do this is to use action.

For example:
Jonah strolled across the dance floor, easy and languid, his dark jeans stretching over corded muscles. His green eyes caught and held mine, and a slow smile stretched across his face. He leaned toward me, the heat from his breath on my neck and his tousled chestnut hair brushing my cheek.
“I think you need to dance with me,” he said.

In the first example, we don’t get any sense of who Jonah is. We only see what he looks like, and we don’t even really know if he’s that attractive. In the second example, we have a much better feel for what kind of person he is: confident, charismatic, and not afraid to go after what he wants. Granted, example 2 is a bit cliché, but you get the idea.

Challenge:
Think back to the last person you met. Write that scene and describe the person using action—show not only what the person looked like, but also how they came across. See if you can capture that person’s personality on the page.

Feel free to share your work here in the comments, or keep it to yourself. Your choice.

Challenge: Describe The Senses

Description. Some writers love it, some hate it. Some overuse it, some don’t have enough. Most often, though, I think the right amount exists, but it’s light on a very important element: the senses.

The most common sense used in stories is sight. It’s often reinforced through filtering words like I saw, I watched, I noticed, etc. But there are four other senses: smell, taste, touch, hearing.

In the real world, we use these senses without even thinking about it. The most common is sight, of course. Then hearing. I don’t know about you, but I love my sense for tasting. Good food is high on my list when going out for some fun. And who doesn’t like the feel of soft fabrics sliding through their fingers? Or the smell of cookies baking, or flowers in spring? Each sense is as important as the next, and we need to consciously include them all in our stories.

The best way to convey information through senses is directly. I.E., without any kind of filter. Telling us that “James felt cold” doesn’t give us a sense of how cold he is. Is it a slight shiver? Are his teeth chattering? Are his fingers turning numb? These details paint a more vivid picture in the reader’s mind. The stronger the senses come across, the more the reader can put himself in the character’s shoes.

This, incidentally, is a large part of how you transport the reader into the story. The key to this is how the character experiences the sense. If you use filtering words like I saw, I heard, I smelled, etc, then you’re keeping the reader from accessing a huge dimension of your story. So, instead of filtering the senses, try to give the reader full access to them by showing them how the senses unfold.

When we walk outside, we are aware of lots of things. We don’t often pay attention to it all, but we’re aware on some level. If someone asked us about a detail later on, we’d probably be able to remember it if we tried, even though we initially shrugged it off. The same needs to be true for our characters. The details that will become important later on need to be noticed and recorded in the moment. When the dots are connected later on, the reader will understand.

Challenge:

Take a simple action like stepping out of a car, getting in the shower, walking outside, etc, and write it using all five senses. Feel free to go nuts and make it a full page long. Just keep the action restricted to that one simple thing.

Feel free to share your work here in the comments, or keep it to yourself. Your choice.