Go Beyond 5 Senses in Your Fiction Writing

by C. S. Lakin

Fiction and nonfiction writers alike need to immerse their readers into the story they are telling, and the best and most obvious way to do this is by utilizing sensory detail.

While most of us have been taught that there are five senses, there are actually more than twenty specific senses humans experience. Keep in mind that senses aren’t just about responding to outside data. They’re not only about what we see and hear and smell.

Some of the most common and important sensory details come from within our body, and it’s these senses that writers ignore, for the most part.

I will venture to say, though, that a masterful writer will consider the whole range of sensory possibilities when writing a scene or descriptive passage that shows characters in any activity, even just sitting and thinking.

And not only that—insightful writers will think carefully about word choice, mood, and mind-set of their POV character, because sensory detail should be purposeful, targeted, and powerful. Sensory detail should be used specifically to help accomplish the objective of the scene or passage the writer intends.

In other words, don’t just throw in a few sounds or smells or clothing descriptions at random and call it good. Every single word you write should be strategic and help create microtension.

I want to focus on sensory details that are often ignored by writers. For each of these types of senses there are numerous applications, but here are some specific ones:

• How the body feels temperature on the skin and internally
• The sense of the relative position of one’s own parts of the body and strength of effort being employed in movement
• The overall sense of body position, movement, and acceleration
• Pressure/touch on the skin/body
• The sense of balance or equilibrioception
• The quality of sound (not just what is being heard), such as timbre and pitch, and sounds felt or heard through/inside our bodies
• The quality and source of light: dimness or brightness and how light fills spaces

Let’s look at an excerpt from The Dazzling Truth, by Helen Cullen. This brilliant passage is chock-full of sensory detail masterfully described so that we get deep into the character’s emotional state without being told outright what he is feeling.

“Murtagh opened the front door and flinched at a swarm of spitting raindrops. The blistering wind mocked the threadbare cotton of his pyjamas. He bent his head into the onslaught and pushed forward, dragging the heavy scarlet door behind him. The brass knocker clanged against the wood; he flinched, hoping it had not woken the children. Shivering, he picked a route in his slippers around the muddy puddles spreading across the cobblestoned pathway. Leaning over the wrought-iron gate that separated their own familial island from the winding lane of the island proper, he scanned the dark horizon for a glimpse of Maeve in the faraway glow of a streetlamp.

In the distance, the sea and sky had melted into one anthracite mist, each indiscernible from the other. Sheep huddled together for comfort in Peadar Óg’s field, the waterlogged green that bordered the Moones’ land to the right; the plaintive baying of the animals sounded mournful. Murtagh nodded at them.

There was no sight of Maeve.”

Pay attention to Cullen’s word choice. We’re not merely told “it’s raining.” The character steps outside and flinches at a swarm of spitting raindrops. There is so much packed into that one line of sensory detail that goes far beyond telling it’s raining. Same with the blistering wind that mocks his threadbare pyjamas.

Here is a man that is at a loss regarding how to deal with this wife that wanders off in the night. His sense of failure and inability to fix this problem is reflected in the word choice. Spitting and mock imply humiliation, vulnerability, victimization. Swarm gives us the sense of engulfing, overwhelm. These are senses he experiences on his skin and body as nature touches him (rather than him just hearing the wind or seeing the rain).

What sounds does Cullen include? Only two, but very important ones because they paint that mood and convey important information. There is the brass knocker that clangs against wood, which she uses as a way to show his concern about waking his children. And then there is the plaintive baying of mournful-sounding animals. Nothing needs to be said here about how that reflects Murtagh’s state of mind.

The visuals are also chosen purposefully. There are muddy puddles he has to navigate (mirroring the “puddles” of his life), a dark horizon, and a blurred or indistinguishable dark horizon (again, reflecting his inability to find his wife or fix this problem). The waterlogged green also gives us the sense of heaviness, saturation, even sinking or drowning. All mirroring his mind-set.

Another strong visual is the sheep huddling in the night, for warmth and comfort, which is in great contrast to this lonely, fearful, worried man who has nothing to warm or comfort him, and also contrasts with what he might imagine his wife is experiencing, out there somewhere, wandering the island. Why does Murtagh nod at them? They no doubt don’t see or understand the gesture. Perhaps it’s because he sees this very contrast in this moment.

The only light source we’re shown is the faraway glow of a streetlamp, which aids greatly in setting the ambiance of the scene. Literally and figuratively (and symbolically), it casts little light on the environs as well as on his situation. It does not give the illumination he needs to see by in order to locate his missing wife.

I hope this brief look at some of these sensory details will get you excited to dive into your writing and find places in which to put in creative, powerful sensory elements that many writers often ignore.

Want to learn more about how to write masterful scenes packed with sensory detail and microtension? Take my in-depth course that will teach you the 8 essential elements to writing a commercially successful novel. And check out all my online video courses at cslakin.teachable.com .

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C. S. Lakin is the fiction track coordinator for the San Francisco Writers’ Conference and the author of more than 30 books (fiction and nonfiction). She offers more than 1 million words of instruction for writers at her blog Live Write Thrive and does 200+ manuscript critiques a year.

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