Sight, Hearing, Touch, Taste, Smell
Welcome back everyone. I’m sincerely touched that this series has been so well received. But that’s a different kind of touch than the sense of touch. Working the sense of touch into your writing can bring your words to life. It helps make it relatable. Although, I confess that it is the sense that I am most likely to overlook when I’m writing. Are you ready? Today we reach out and — Touch.
The first thing that comes to my mind when I think of touch is texture. (Granted, “smooth” is a texture, but I think you know what I mean.) Texture is pleasing to my eye. If I decorate a room or put together an outfit, I like to have elements with texture. Descriptions of a tactile experience can enhance your writing. Place your hand on your sleeve and think about how you would describe what your sense of touch tells you.
The sense of touch doesn’t have to come as something that your character literally reaches out to touch. Rather it can include things that touch them, like fog or sunlight. Also, some objects strongly bring to mind the feeling of touching them — without anyone laying a finger on them. A good example of this is a screen door or a window screen.
That reminds me of a scene from my speculative fiction story “Brother Love: A Crossroad.” Birdie Devovo sees, hears, and smells things that are so strongly connected to the tactile experience of them, that while reading I feel that she placed her hands on them, even when she did not. When you see a wet ring on a table, don’t you feel the moisture in your mind? When you look at grass, does the texture of it come to mind? In the snippet below, we join Birdie on a hot August night.
When the sun finally hid behind the horizon, the heat remained. I fanned myself futilely with a mimeographed flyer. It did nothing to alleviate the heat of the night, and the cloying odor of the ink turned my stomach.
I stared at the wet circles on the Formica tabletop as the ice melted in my glass of sweet tea. Absently I wondered if some pickle juice would remove the rings.
At last, a breeze! I thought with a sigh.
It rustled the pages of the Pan Am calendar hanging on the wall. August exclaimed “Back to Hawaii” and boasted a man and woman disembarking a plane while greeted by hula dancers and musicians. That scene was too farfetched for my imagination.
I liked July better. It showed a couple, suitcases in hand, laughing and walking fast. Yes, I liked that one best. They could be anyone, going anywhere… maybe the girl could even me.
The mimeographed flyer floated on the breeze from the table down to the cracked and faded linoleum floor.
For the umpteenth time I wondered who came all the way to the outside of town to leave it, but I was glad I missed them. They left the ad on the front door. Brother Love’s Traveling Salvation Show, it read.
Thunder rumbled faintly, very far away. Maybe there would be rain.
Or maybe not, I thought as I put the damp glass to my forehead.
It had been hot and humid for so long that the heavenly rumble seemed like an empty threat.
I crawled half-under the table to pick up the flyer. The kitchen light flickered and popped, causing me to bump my head. Then all the lights went out.
The screen door creaked open. Normally it would bang shut, but it closed softly. At the sound of footsteps, I scrunched the rest of the way under the table.
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Your Turn!
Okay, now it’s your turn. The Pixabay image below of a luxury passenger train of yesteryear could relate to many types of writing, not just fiction. Gaze at this image. Really focus and put yourself into it. Put your suitcase away. Adjust the window shade. Sit down on the neatly made bed. Turn on the lamp. Pour some water into the glass. Now describe something that involves your sense of touch.
What did you touch? Is the blanket cuddly or scratchy? Can you feel feathers through the pillow case? Is the water decanter cool? Did your fingers encounter the powdery texture of dust on the lamp shade? Did you feel a scratch on the windowsill?
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