Crafting Sensory Richness: Weaving Scent into Your Narratives
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Chapter 1: The Power of Scent in Storytelling
Recently, during a workshop, a student presented a piece that truly impressed me due to her exceptional ability to incorporate scent into her narrative. Remarkably, she achieved this without explicitly detailing any odors.
Sensory writing is an advanced skill that can be challenging to master. While writers often convey sight and sound with relative ease, other senses can be more elusive. Today, I'll highlight how this student skillfully utilized scent, a technique applicable to all sensory writing.
Scent as a Trigger for Memories
Before the pandemic, there was a video rental store right across from my home—a rarity in recent years. Upon stepping inside, I was instantly transported back to the 1980s and 1990s, an era when Friday nights were synonymous with Blockbuster and pizza from Domino's.
For those over forty, the scent is unmistakable: a mélange of cardboard and candy. Do I need to elaborate on its stale sweetness or the faint fruity notes from gummy worms? Probably not.
Certain words carry strong sensory implications. For example, when I mention "movie theater," the aroma of popcorn likely fills your mind. Similarly, terms like "cafeteria" may conjure memories of your school lunchroom, complete with overcooked vegetables.
Interestingly, my student never explicitly described any scents. Instead, she used evocative words that prompted me to recall familiar smells.
Consider these examples. If I mention:
- Chocolate chip cookies
- Freshly mowed grass
- Body odor
- A locker room
- Wet dog food
- Garlic
- Roses
You probably don't need me to elaborate on their fragrances. While your sensory memory might differ from mine, it’s irrelevant; the mention of these evocative words alone can trigger vivid scents in your mind.
Here’s a practical illustration:
Mary stepped onto her porch. Someone must have recently mowed their lawn; the fresh-cut grass always made her yearn for a glass of lemonade.
In this case, I detailed the scent of fresh-cut grass. However, we can tighten it up:
Mary stepped onto the porch. Someone must have recently mowed their lawn. Fresh-cut grass always made her crave lemonade.
By omitting "scent," we allow readers to engage their own sensory memories. They might hear the lawnmower or even taste the lemonade, creating a richer, more immersive experience.
This interplay of sensory words—like fresh-cut grass and lemonade—evokes the essence of summer without requiring excessive description.
The Art of Unexpected Associations
Another impressive aspect of my student’s writing was her use of unexpected, sense-evoking terms. This approach highlighted unique details brilliantly.
For instance, I might say:
The idea struck him like the fume of gasoline as he began fueling his Mustang. An overwhelming, full-body experience. Forget roses; he planned to pick up trout from the butcher for dinner.
In this sentence, we juxtapose two unpleasant scents (gasoline and fish) against a pleasant one (roses).
Do you require more detail to evoke their fragrances? These terms likely conjure immediate sensory experiences—perhaps you visualize, taste, or smell them.
By not spoon-feeding readers sensory details, they can immerse themselves more deeply, engaging not just their sense of smell, but also taste, touch, sight, and hearing based on their personal memories. This invites readers to claim the narrative as their own.
In conclusion, when it comes to sensory details, often less is indeed more.
Chapter 2: The Significance of Sensory Nouns
My favorite writing guide, Zen and the Art of Writing by Ray Bradbury, emphasizes the importance of creating a list of sensory nouns to inspire storytelling.
Nouns that evoke sensory memories—like gasoline, fish, roses, fresh-cut grass, and video rental stores—act as powerful tools to immerse readers in the worlds we create. If you incorporate a noun that triggers strong sensory associations, detailed descriptions may not be necessary.
For example, having spent twenty-five years in Las Vegas, the mere mention of "Las Vegas" invokes distinct sensory memories for me, likely different from those of a casual visitor.
The phrase "Las Vegas" conjures the scents of sage and the unique aroma of rain on dry soil—known as petrichor. I haven’t experienced this scent in Pennsylvania, where it’s perpetually damp, but in the desert, it’s unmistakable.
Conversely, someone who has only visited Las Vegas as a tourist might associate the city with cigarette smoke and buffet food. Others, unfamiliar with the area, may not have any sensory memory attached at all.
When I think of "Paris," I smell coffee, evoking images of cafes and pastries. Even though I’ve never been there, my mind quickly dances through a montage of sights and sounds connected to the city.
However, if I want to evoke specific scents, I might need to use different nouns. Instead of "Paris," mentioning "piss" or "sewer" would draw immediate sensory responses.
This concept of show versus tell is crucial. If I say "fresh-cut grass," I’m providing a visual cue. But if I elaborate on how sharp and juicy it smells, I’m telling rather than showing.
When editing your work, pay attention to evocative nouns. If you’ve used one and followed it with detailed sensory descriptions, evaluate whether that serves your narrative effectively. Provide enough detail to guide readers, but avoid overwhelming them. Writing sensory detail doesn't mean filling your text with exhaustive descriptions of specific smells, sights, or sounds.
The first video, "How to make your own scent story for fragrance inspiration | CandleScience Tips," provides insights into creating personalized scent narratives, helping writers enhance their storytelling through olfactory experiences.
The second video, "How to Write the Five Senses: Scent," explores techniques for incorporating scent into writing, offering valuable strategies for crafting sensory-rich narratives.
Shaunta Grimes, a writer and educator, resides in Northwestern Pennsylvania with her family. She is the author of several novels and is dedicated to teaching her unique approach to novel writing. Sign up for her Substack newsletter, Then See What Happens, to learn more.