{"id":3494,"date":"2015-08-03T01:00:50","date_gmt":"2015-08-03T08:00:50","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/?p=3494"},"modified":"2015-08-01T16:16:55","modified_gmt":"2015-08-01T23:16:55","slug":"sensory-detail","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/sensory-detail\/","title":{"rendered":"Sensory Detail"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>Readers want to <u>see<\/u> the action and <u>feel<\/u> emotions. Readers want to be transported into other worlds. In a way, we want magical things to happen when we read: to be carried away, transformed. Writers can achieve these seemingly wondrous events by using sensory detail in writing.<\/p>\n<p>When including sensory detail, think of body parts: eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body and some add a sixth sense: mind.<\/p>\n<p>Verbs that describe the senses: see\/sight, hear\/sound\/auditory, smell, taste, feel\/touch, intuit.<\/p>\n<p>The sixth sense can be described as telepathy, intuition, perception, imagination. . . those traits that use the mind to create and understand. Some people believe the sixth sense is the ability to problem solve; using our minds to read and interpret signals, to pick up or sense energy.<\/p>\n<p>You can access any of these sensory details in your writers tool kit to create vivid and memorable writing.<\/p>\n<p>For the next few weeks, we will explore sensory detail on The Write Spot Blog.<\/p>\n<p>Sight. . . Seeing . . . is perhaps the most common sensory detail to write about. It&#8217;s easy to describe physical details: blue eyes, brown hair. So, how about going a little deeper? Perhaps more specific, or unusual. . . something the reader isn&#8217;t expecting, but believable. Something to make the reader sit up and take notice:<\/p>\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px; text-align: justify;\">She had bright auburn hair, pink cheeks, and wore crimson fingernail polish. She also wore high-heeled pumps and a red-and-white-striped dress. She looked and smelled like a peppermint drop. \u2014<em>To Kill a Mockingbird<\/em>, Harper Lee<\/p>\n<p>You can use simile to create memorable details, like Sandra Cisneros does in <em>Caramelo<\/em>:<\/p>\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">Doubt begins like a thin crack in a porcelain plate. Very fine, like a strand of hair, almost not there. Wedged in between the pages of the sports section, in the satin puckered side-pocket of his valise, next to a crumpled bag of pumpkin seeds, a sepia-colored photo pasted on thick cardboard crudely cut down the center.<\/p>\n<p>\u00a0Do you see the crack in the plate?<\/p>\n<p>There is also texture in this excerpt: porcelain, the fine strand of hair.<\/p>\n<p>With the mention of &#8220;sports section&#8221;. . . can you see the newsprint and feel the weight of the newspaper?<\/p>\n<p>The puckered side-pocket invites a visual image as well as texture. Can you &#8220;see&#8221; (imagine) the color of the satin side-pocket even though it&#8217;s not mentioned?<\/p>\n<p>Being specific with details adds to the ability of the reader to see the activity\/action (scene).<\/p>\n<p>Cisneros could have written &#8220;a crumpled bag of chips,&#8221; but that&#8217;s vague. I bet you can <u>feel<\/u> that crumpled bag and maybe you can hear it. You can probably see the pumpkin seeds. Perhaps you salivate at the thought of what the pumpkin seeds taste like.<\/p>\n<p>Even if you have never seen a sepia-colored photo pasted on thick cardboard, you can imagine it. You can see this specific color (sepia) and feel the texture of the cardboard. In your mind&#8217;s eye, you might even imagine who is in the photo.<\/p>\n<p>Cisneros covered all the senses: sight, sound, taste, feel, and if you are extraordinarily sensitive, you might smell the salt in the seeds, or you might smell the musty valise, you might even imagine\/smell the paste that was used to stick the photo onto the cardboard. I think she includes the intuitive sense with the word &#8220;doubt&#8221; and &#8220;wedged&#8221; (what does this hint or say to you?) and the cut cardboard (perhaps cutting someone out of the photo?).<\/p>\n<p>Simile\u00a0\u2014 A simile is a figure of speech that compares unlike things by using the words <em>like<\/em> or <em>as<\/em>:<\/p>\n<p><em>Doubt begins like a thin crack in a porcelain plate. Very fine, like a strand of hair . . . <\/em><\/p>\n<p><strong>Your turn:<\/strong> Notice sensory detail in what you are reading. Post your findings here, on The Write Spot Blog.\u00a0 And try using sensory detail in your writing.\u00a0 Just Write!<\/p>\n<p><a href=\"http:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/08\/Suitcase.notecards.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\" size-full wp-image-3512 aligncenter\" src=\"http:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/08\/Suitcase.notecards.jpg\" alt=\"Suitcase.notecards\" width=\"200\" height=\"283\" \/><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Readers want to see the action and feel emotions. Readers want to be transported into other worlds. In a way, we want magical things to happen when we read: to be carried away, transformed. Writers can achieve these seemingly wondrous events by using sensory detail in writing. When including sensory detail, think of body parts: [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"sfsi_plus_gutenberg_text_before_share":"","sfsi_plus_gutenberg_show_text_before_share":"","sfsi_plus_gutenberg_icon_type":"","sfsi_plus_gutenberg_icon_alignemt":"","sfsi_plus_gutenburg_max_per_row":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[126],"tags":[13,6,105,329,342,10,16,11],"class_list":["post-3494","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-just-write-2","tag-freewrite","tag-freewrites","tag-just-write","tag-the-write-spot","tag-the-write-spot-blog","tag-writing-freely","tag-writing-prompt","tag-writing-prompts"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p43Dj8-Um","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3494","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3494"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3494\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3513,"href":"https:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3494\/revisions\/3513"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3494"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3494"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3494"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}