How do you Engage the Senses?

Many times it's not a consistent engagement of the senses, rather the engagement occurs at the right moment to pull the reader in to the story. Some little thing that makes you laugh, or cringe, or sympathize with the characters. I suppose what I'm trying to convey is that judicious use of this sensory ploy can be more effective than constant use.

There's a book that I read twenty years ago. The Game of Kings by Dorothy Dunnett. Early in the book she deftly described a scene that had me laughing, and entranced by how I could nearly hear and see it unfold. That scene hooked me, even though the MC was infuriatingly opaque. Humor was sparse, but the original scene was followed by others dealing with different emotions, in critical junctions, that kept me glued to the series. Constantly engaging all the senses would exhaust the reader. Judicious use of that technique was more thrilling than a giant roller coaster.

You're in for a treat and a slog, then. Dunnett's two series 'Lymond' and 'Niccolo' are massive historical fiction with an edge of magic realism.

Filigree said:

You're in for a treat and a slog, then. Dunnett's two series 'Lymond' and 'Niccolo' are massive historical fiction with an edge of magic realism.

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True. It's not a quick read, by any means. However, I've read through both series at least twice. Either that's a sign that they were well worth the effort, or I need to get a life.

Synonym said:

True. It's not a quick read, by any means. However, I've read through both series at least twice. Either that's a sign that they were well worth the effort, or I need to get a life.

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Which comment brings up a point I feel needs to be made: Just because something isn't a "quick read" by no means means it isn't rewarding to read. And just because something IS a "quick read" doesn't mean it's worth a damn.

some of the most rewarding works I've ever read took me significant time to read. Why? Because they were filled to the brim with wonderful stuff.

caw

In my own defense, I was responding to the 'slog' description. I've devoured many weighty tomes in my day, due to the fact that they were indeed filled with wonder.

Currently trying to find the time to re-read that...hmmm, what was it? Quirky characters, lots of battles. Oh yeah. That Erikson guy and his Malazan Empire stuff. Sounds like a good way to spend the winter months.

ETA: Once I pry about half the books away from my oldest son. We've been sharing them back and forth since he first discovered them.

I think this has a lot of what showing is vs. Telling. Showing the reader how it feels. I agree it can't be overdone or it will be too bogged down with it and will lose the reader.

I would say that Joann Harris is masterful at engaging the senses, sometimes in ways opposite of what would be expected. Taking a pleasant smell, for example, and equating it with something unpleasant. Of course, she's also excellent at taking a pleasant smell and making it practically erotic.

The Five Senses "rule" (I'm calling it that because I've seen it often enough in "how-to" advice for writing romance) is like any "rule"--more of a guideline, and sometimes romance writers exhibit a heavy hand with it. I can just see the editors notes: "Can we get some senses in here?" and every sense is addressed at once, in two sentences.

Obviously this technique is really important in writing romance (your audience for the conference) to create sensual depth. I think in teaching about it, it's important to also encourage subtlety in its use. As in real life, sometimes the most powerful sensory experiences are the fleeting ones. A whiff of an old, familiar smell, a sight you thought you saw but then is gone when you look again, the velvety feel of a leaf as the MC passes through a garden toward an assignation...

Dang, Evelyn, now I wish I was going to the conference!

Evelyn, may I suggest that you pick a passage that is so devoid of 'engaging the senses' that it shows what you're trying to say? It shouldn't be too tough to write up a short paragraph, with and without, to make the point.

I don't really pay that much attention, though I always think I should. I rarely notice how things smell in my normal life, unless it's particularly strong, so I never think to include those descriptions in my writing. Similarly, I can't remember any times in which I've noticed an author telling me how something smells.
Then, I'm not very descriptively minded in general.

There was a scene in Nabokov's Pnin where Pnin was watching his friend catching butterflies by a shallow brook. I need to reread it again, but I remember the passage vividly as if I was there. The sense that evoked that scenery was the sound of the brook, the sough of the wind, and the splashing of feet. Sound was the dominant stimulus in this scene, but just evoking sound alone brought a deluge of stimuli for the other senses.

It's a hypothesis, and I'd like to look into how other writers handle the engaging of senses. I think that engaging all of them might be too much or unnecessary, but I could be mistaken on that.

For anyone who wants to effectively expand sensory information in their own writing, I would highly recommend reading A Natural History of the Senses by Diane Ackerman. It's a sensual feast all on its own, and you'll never see the five senses the same way again.