Friday Feedback with Erin Hahn: Using the Five Sense to Make Your Scenes Come Alive

You know how you can instantly love a person your best friend loves? 

Well, it's the same with your agent or editor: if they love a writer, you love them, which is much how I feel about Erin Hahn who is here today, and whose debut YOU'D BE MINE is coming April 2019 from the fabulous Vicki Lame (MY editor! ;)) and Wednesday Books.

"Seventeen-year-old Annie Mathers is the folksy heiress to a country music dynasty that ended in her parents' tragic deaths five years ago. Since then, she's been hiding on her grandparents' farm where she intends to stay. Indefinitely. That is, until superstar Clay Coolidge shows up on her porch and convinces her to join his summer tour. . . " 

You can read the rest HERE. It sounds OH, SO Good! 

Erin is here today with a totally stellar post on using the five senses. To tell the truth, the most I've learned about writing, I've learned here on my own blog from guest authors who have taken the time over the past five summers to share gems like this one. I plan to steal this post verbatim -- with credit!!! -- when I teach!

If you, too, appreciate the work Erin has done here today, please preorder YOU'D BE MINE and help spread the word! And if you can't preorder, ask your local library to preorder it in! Oh, and if you want to follow Erin on twitter, you can do so @erinhahn_author .

One of the earliest compliments I received from an industry professional about my writing was that my style was “evocative.” I’ll be honest. I had to double check the definition and definitely did one of those “Who ME?” after reading it, but it’s stuck with me because it’s certainly something I’ve always strived for. I want to transport a reader. I want them to see something in my book exactly as I see it in my mind. Obviously, that’s a fraught expectation. I mean, everyone gets something different when they read a passage. But every now and again I’ll hit home with a reader and it’s so satisfying.

Believe it or not I have a process for this. Not intentionally, mind you, but one day I happened to be guest teaching fifth grade and the teacher left me with a very shallow creative writing lesson. Little did he know, creative writing was my full time job! So I ran with it, figuring I could always apologize later if he hated the outcome (spoiler: he did not, in fact, hate the outcome).

Here’s what it comes down to: Whenever you are taking a reader some place new, take an inventory of what it feels like, smells like, looks like, tastes like and sounds like. It’s the fastest way to get them to that place and while you’re at it, it has the added benefit of bringing you there as well. And the deeper you are in your own scene, the better.

In my current YA, I’m writing about teens who work in radio and they go all over the place, as teens tend to do. At the moment, I’m crafting a scene where my main character, Vada, is on a “date” with an older coworker at a small music venue. Think dive bar. My audience is YA, so I can assume most of them haven’t spent a whole lot of time in dive bars, so my work is cut out for me.

Here is the initial introduction to the scene:

“The venue is a dark and dismal kind of place. Lots of people milling around, but there’s only one I’m concerned about- the one I shouldn’t have said yes to.”

Okay, so this is a typical first draft intro for me. I’m more concerned with plot and character development at this point, so I often will put in a “place holder.” Get it? PLACE holder? Sorry. Essentially, remind myself where I’m at, set the tone just enough to give me some realistic character motivation, and move on.

So let’s pretend, though, that my draft is done (oh how I wish). Now it’s time for me to read back through and start fluffing out the settings. I’ll go scene by scene, making sure each one is giving the reader a clear picture of where the characters are. Almost like if they just walked into the scene with you. What do they see? Only two people talking in a blank white space? Or in my case, one person musing in “a dark and dismal” kind of place? No good. Let’s go back.

First, what do they feel? Not emotionally, although that could come too, depending on how you draft. Right now, though, I’m concerned with purely physical feeling. Here’s what I’m feeling in my mind: Overly air-conditioned because of the show, so goosebumps. My shoes are sticking to the disgusting floor. I might be feeling sort of clammy at all the nasty germs around, since I’m like that. Maybe my character sort of is, too. Maybe I feel the rush of air as strangers push past me. Maybe I feel them shove and press against me. Maybe my face prickles hot with discomfort since I feel out of my element with this date I didn’t want.

Feeling. Got it. Let’s go back to my original line and layer some feels in.

“The venue is a dark and dismal kind of place. Lots of people milling around, closing in and crushing against me as they wrestle for a better view, but there’s only one I’m concerned about- the one I shouldn’t have said yes to. I rub my arms, cursing my thin hoodie. It’s doing nothing against the overly air-conditioned chill. I shift and my cheeks prickle as a man in front of me gives me a look of annoyance. “Sorry,” I mutter, sidestepping and encountering something sticky under my shoe.”

Okay. Feels. Got them. Is this done? No way. Let’s hit up taste next. What does Vada taste? Again, my Vada is barely 18. YA all the way. So if I’m 18 and I just came from a dinner to a bar for a concert, there’s a good chance I’m chewing gum. Or drinking Sprite. Or an ice water. I might taste the garlic from my dinner. Maybe I’m so anxious, I taste bile in the back of my throat. Unless your character is actively eating, taste might be tricky to define but it doesn’t hurt to ask. So how does taste fit in my excerpt? Let’s look:

“The venue is a dark and dismal kind of place. Lots of people milling around, closing in and crushing against me as they wrestle for a better view, but there’s only one I’m concerned about- the one I shouldn’t have said yes to. The garlic pesto I had for dinner churns and swallowing hard, I can taste it in the back of my throat. I rub my arms, cursing my thin hoodie. It’s doing nothing against the overly air-conditioned chill. I shift and my cheeks prickle as a man in front of me gives me a look of annoyance. “Sorry,” I mutter, side-stepping and encountering something sticky under my shoe.”

Okay, Erin, you might be thinking, panicking slightly at the sheer number of words I’m adding. Chill. We will still edit, friends. Trust the process. Breathe. Moving on to sound.

Sound is easy on this one. We’re at a concert. It’s loud, blaring, in fact. People are singing and shouting over the singing. Whistling, screaming, clapping. But here is where I think we can step back. It’s not necessary to list all of those. My reader knows they are at a rock concert. I don’t need to list every individual sound. In fact, it’s way better that you don’t because I don’t know about you, but I’ve never heard each individual sound. I hear ALL the sounds at once. It’s a ruckus. Its more a feeling than a sound, isn’t it? Thrumming in your ears, pounding in your chest. So how do we incorporate that?

“The venue is a dark and dismal kind of place. Lots of people milling around, closing in and crushing against me as they wrestle for a better view, but there’s only one I’m concerned about- the one I shouldn’t have said yes to. The garlic pesto I had for dinner churns and swallowing hard, I can taste it in the back of my throat. I rub my arms, cursing my thin hoodie. It’s doing nothing against the overly air-conditioned chill. Usually, I love the pounding of the bass in my chest and the thrumming of the screaming music in my eardrums, but not tonight. Tonight, it’s too much to compute, my ears aching with the effort to hear the vocals over the racket of the crowd all around me. I stumble forward and my cheeks prickle as a man in front of me gives me a look of annoyance. “Sorry,” I mutter, side-stepping and encountering something sticky under my shoe.”

Alright, sound. Done. I should add that sound can sometimes be hard to pin down. Like I mentioned before, we don’t always separate individual sounds when we’re someplace, taking it in. It’s more natural to drown out sounds to hear what we need. I’ve been known to check out Sound Clouds on YouTube in the past. Or even Atmospheric stations on Pandora Radio. They work great with things like “Forrest at night” or “Busy city street” or whatnot. Give them a try!

 The last two are probably the easiest. Smell and sight. Let’s start with smell. At a concert, I’m smelling body odor and the sour scent of spilled alcohol and the skunky smell of pot… maybe too much cologne or perfume. Now that I think of it, concerts are pretty gross. But I digress.

“The venue is a dark and dismal kind of place. Lots of people milling around, closing in and crushing against me as they wrestle for a better view, but there’s only one I’m concerned about- the one I shouldn’t have said yes to. The garlic pesto I had for dinner churns and swallowing hard, I can taste it in the back of my throat. I rub my arms, cursing my thin hoodie. It’s doing nothing against the overly air-conditioned chill of stale, sour air. I wrinkle my nose at the unsavory combination of sweat and skunk, knowing full well on a typical night, I would be loving this.

Usually, I crave the pounding of the bass in my chest and the thrumming of the screaming music in my eardrums, but not tonight. Tonight, it’s too much to compute, my ears aching with the effort to hear the vocals over the racket of the crowd all around me. I stumble forward and my cheeks prickle as a man in front of me gives me a look of annoyance. “Sorry,” I mutter, side-stepping and encountering something sticky under my shoe.”

So our one line has turned into two paragraphs so far. Which is amazing. A reader entering into this scene is going to really feel like they are ENTERING into our scene and experiencing what Vada is experiencing. One last sense… sight. What do we see? I’m seeing couples kissing, frats guys pumping their fists and stage lights blaring and blinding. Of course, I want to see what VADA is seeing and she’s overwhelmed and feeling regret at showing up, so what she is seeing is tainted with that. She might not care about the couples kissing or the frat guys. She’s more likely getting a headache from the lights. Let’s try that.

“The venue is a dark and dismal kind of place. Lots of people milling around the small, raised stage, closing in and crushing against me as they wrestle for a better view, but there’s only one I’m concerned about- the one I shouldn’t have said yes to. The garlic pesto I had for dinner churns and swallowing hard, I can taste it in the back of my throat. I rub my arms, cursing my thin green hoodie. It’s doing nothing against the overly air-conditioned chill of stale, sour air. I wrinkle my nose at the unsavory combination of sweat and skunk, knowing full well on a typical night, I would be loving this.

Usually, I crave the pounding of the bass in my chest and the thrumming of the screaming music in my eardrums, but not tonight. Tonight, it’s too much to compute, my ears aching with the effort to hear the vocals over the racket of the crowd all around me. The neon stage lights flash and blind in an uncomfortable rhythm, confusing me. I stumble forward and my cheeks prickle as a man in front of me gives me a look of annoyance. “Sorry,” I mutter, side-stepping and encountering something sticky under my shoe.”

And that’s it. All our five senses. If you read carefully, you might have noticed that I changed her “I shift,” to “I stumble forward” somewhere in all of that. When I noticed that Vada was becoming distracted and disoriented, it made sense. I’m the author. I get to change it. 😊

So I’m going to edit real quick, reading my paragraphs aloud and seeing if I can cut anything or smooth it out.

“The venue is a dark and dismal kind of place. Lots of people milling around the small, raised stage, closing in and crushing against me as they wrestle for a better view. There’s only one I’m concerned about, however—the one I should’ve turned down—and he’s somewhere behind me at the bar, getting another drink. The garlic pesto I had for dinner churns and swallowing hard, I taste it in the back of my throat. My thin green hoodie is doing squat against the stale bar-air and I wrinkle my nose at the unsavory combination of sweat and skunk, despite knowing full well on a typical night, I would be loving this.

Usually, I crave the bass pounding in my chest and the thrum of screaming vocals, but not tonight. Tonight, it’s disorienting, my ears aching with the effort to decipher the lyrics over the racket of the crowd. The neon stage lights flash and blind in an uncomfortable rhythm and I stumble forward, my cheeks prickling hot, as a man in front of me glares. “Sorry,” I mutter, side-stepping and encountering something sticky under my shoe. Worst maybe-date ever.

There. I’m in a bar. Listening to a band. With Vada. Who isn’t having a good time, unfortunately. In my own writing, I would do something just like this with every NEW location I spend quantifiable time in. Obviously, if she came back to this venue later, I wouldn’t go through the entire list, but I might throw in a hint like, “only this time, the beer-and-skunk smell is gone” or whatever. You get the idea.

I should also note that I don’t always list details in two paragraphs right at the start (though, I might). Sometimes they get peppered through if I’m in a single location for a bit. As the author, you need to decide what is natural observation for your character. If it’s YA, they might not organically speak to the architecture of a place. If it’s adult, they might not snark about the smell. If it’s a picture book, they would be far more basic, sticking to familiar colors and textures.

Alright, so here we go! For my Friday Feedback submission, I offer you the above, now more polished, paragraph to give feedback on. Then, it’s your turn. Maybe take a section of a work in progress and run it through the five senses overhaul. Or write something new and explore how the scenes feel, sound, and smell!

And remember, Gae says if you are new to Friday Feedback, please read THE RULES (at the end of that post). And don't forget the only thing we ask for the time we put in here is that you order -- or preorder -- our books!!

Look forward to seeing you all in the comments!!

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            The venue is a dark and dismal kind of place. Lots of people milling around the small, raised stage, closing in and crushing against me as they wrestle for a better view. There’s only one I’m concerned about, however—the one I should’ve turned down—and he’s somewhere behind me at the bar, getting another drink. 

            The garlic pesto I had for dinner churns and swallowing hard, I taste it in the back of my throat. My thin green hoodie is doing squat against the stale bar-air and I wrinkle my nose at the unsavory combination of sweat and skunk, despite knowing full well on a typical night, I would be loving this.

            Usually, I crave the bass pounding in my chest and the thrum of screaming vocals, but not tonight. Tonight, it’s disorienting, my ears aching with the effort to decipher the lyrics over the racket of the crowd. The neon stage lights flash and blind in an uncomfortable rhythm and I stumble forward, my cheeks prickling hot, as a man in front of me glares. “Sorry,” I mutter, side-stepping and encountering something sticky under my shoe. Worst maybe-date ever.

xox Erin and gae