The Myth of the Five Senses

By Lois Winston

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The other day, I read a statement that blew my mind—and not in a good way. Someone had written, “Some writing coaches advise that each page should include a reference to the five senses: see, hear, touch, smell, and taste.”

No! No! No! Wrong! Wrong! Wrong!

The Internet is filled with bogus information and/or people who claim to be experts in fields where they have no expertise. I don’t know where this person got her information, but it’s certainly not from a credible source.

Writing Rule Number One 

All dialogue and narrative in a novel must do one of two things: either advance the plot or tell the reader something she needs to know at that moment about the point of view character. If it does neither, it’s filler and doesn’t belong in your novel.

Writing Rule Number Two

Only describe that which is pertinent to the scene and/or character. If it’s not pertinent, it’s filler.

Writing Rule Number Three

Filler is bad! Always. No exceptions. It kills your pacing and bores the reader.

The five senses can either be a writer’s best friend or worst enemy. When used judicially, they can grab readers and pluck them down in the middle of the book’s action. When overdone, they make readers’ eyes glaze over. And any writer who makes a point of cramming the five senses onto each page, will not only have her readers’ eyes glazing over, but she’ll have them tossing the book across the room. 

5 senses x 300-400 pages = 1500-2000 reasons to stop reading (and probably never pick up another book by that author.)

So, when should you insert the five senses? Refer to Writing Rule Number Two. Need some examples? Keep reading.

Your character is a New York City commuter, standing on the platform of the #7 subway during a hazy, hot, and humid typical August in the city. She doesn’t notice the trash spilling from the garbage cans or the graffiti-covered walls. She’s become inured to the heat and the stench. Not that they don’t bother her, but she’s too used to them to take note. 

As a former commuter, I can tell you the best way to cope with the subway in summer is not set foot in it, but if you must, you learn to close your mind (and your nose) to your surroundings. Which is what our fictional character would do. 

Instead of focusing on the heat and stench and how uncomfortable she is, our stalwart protagonist is most likely scrolling through her Instagram or TikTok feed as she awaits the train. She’d only take note of the sights, sounds, and smells if there’s a good reason for her to do so. I could offer examples, but I’ll spare you the gory details because some of you may be reading this while eating lunch.

Now imagine your character is a twelfth century Scottish nobleman. He wakes up one morning to find himself magically transported to that same subway platform, he’s bombarded with all those sensory images and more. Everything he sees and hears is foreign and frightening to him. The one exception? The stench. Since twelfth century Scots bathed as infrequently as once a year or at most, once a month, most of the offensive odors are normal smells to him. Anything unusual would likely be masked by the smells he’d ignore. In such a scenario, have fun describing every detail of the assault to this very confused poor guy’s senses.

In Stitch, Bake, Die!, the tenth book in my Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery series, Anastasia enters the victim’s kitchen to find the following:

Someone had ransacked the kitchen. Cabinets lay bare, their contents scattered across the floor in a haphazard array of pots, pans, and broken glassware and dishes. Drawers had been yanked out and tossed aside, appliances swept from the counters. Not a single package of food remained on the pantry shelves or in the refrigerator. Whoever had trashed Marlene’s kitchen had taken the time to open boxes, bags, and canisters and dump all the food. Everything from raisin bran to frozen broccoli florets to dried pasta peppered the room. A dusting of flour and sugar lay over everything like newly fallen snow.

Note, I wrote a short paragraph describing only what Anastasia sees. I don’t mention any lingering food smells or the sound of rain beating on the windowpanes. I don’t have her biting down on the inside of her cheek and tasting the coppery tang of blood or feeling her heart pounding in her chest. I don’t have her going weak in the knees and grabbing the door jamb to steady herself. All that is important to this scene is what she sees when she arrives in the kitchen. Given the plot and what happens next, further description would be filler.

The takeaway here? Describe what needs describing, then get on with your story.

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USA Today and Amazon bestselling and award-winning author Lois Winston writes mystery, romance, romantic suspense, chick lit, women’s fiction, children’s chapter books, and nonfiction. Kirkus Reviews dubbed her critically acclaimed Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery series, “North Jersey’s more mature answer to Stephanie Plum.” In addition, Lois is a former literary agent and an award-winning craft and needlework designer who often draws much of her source material for both her characters and plots from her experiences in the crafts industry. Her most recent release is Sorry, Knot Sorry, the thirteenth book in her Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery Series. Learn more about Lois and her books at www.loiswinston.com where you can also sign up for her newsletter and follow her on various social media sites.

The Importance of Strong Pacing and Dynamic Structure in Science Fiction

By Stu Jones and Gareth Worthington

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Pacing, style, and structure. Why does they even matter? I have worlds to build!

This mindset is the downfall of even some of the most accomplished science fiction writers. To a sci-fi author, world-building is often the driving force for the book in the first place. “I want to spend page after page describing, in vast detail, the intricacies of my new world.” After all, isn’t that the fun of being a writer? Creating every nuance and allowing readers to enter the world of our imagination? What could be better for a story than that?

Indeed, historically, this was the status quo. 

Once upon a time, taking our readers through endless reams of description was possible. Hell, it was standard practice in sci-fi and fantasy, as evidenced by many of the greats. From the late nineteenth to mid-twentieth century, a reader was more likely to shell out their hard-earned cash for an author’s latest work. If reading it didn’t conflict with listening to one’s favorite radio broadcast or later, catching one’s favorite television show at five p.m. on a Friday, then there wasn’t much else at home outside a game of cards or a roll in the hay, with which to conflict.

Not so today, at least for the most part.

While there are still readers who enjoy longer novels, with incredible depth of world-building, for the average reader—and therefore the majority of our audience—long side stories about how a certain kind of flora came to be grown on a terraformed planet just isn’t going to cut it. 

And why? 

Because, dear authors, we are competing for attention. In today’s world, a person’s phone is only an arm length away—if that. And if our story lags into page after page of lavish descriptors, our reader will yawn, set the book down, and start browsing cat videos. Or worse, reach for the TV remote to see what’s streaming. And there, in the world of television and cinema, lies our greatest ally and enemy. While we all yearn to have our book adapted for the big screen and enjoy watching the imagined worlds we read come to life, movies and television series mean that our audiences who also read no longer need us to describe things in ridiculous detail. The average reader now has so many visual frames of reference we, as the author, don’t need to work so hard to help them along.

Let’s try it.

Mars. One word. You are already conjuring an image of a red planet, dry and desolate without oceans. A rocky surface and a thin atmosphere. We did not need to tell you those things. One word was enough.

With this in mind, has the entertainment industry destroyed the beauty of science fiction writing? “What can we do against the tyranny of Facebook, Instagram, and three-hundred-million-dollar movies?” you cry.

The answer is two-fold.

Firstly, we can address structure and prose. We can describe where it is necessary, where the reader may not have encountered our particular nuance for a given fictional ecosystem. But where just a few words will suffice to give the reader that visual nudge, we can move on. We can drive the story forward. We are, of course, referring to pacing.

 So, what do we mean by pacing?

It means two things. Number one, always be moving the ball down the field. Something has to happen. And it needs to happen often from the work’s start all the way to the finish. Every chapter should have a purpose to move the story along, not just describe something we would like to tell the reader about our world. If we want to convey a detail, make that detail important to the narrative. Now don’t get us wrong and interpret what we’re saying as descriptors aren’t vitally important. Descriptive prose is the perfume that helps to draw the reader closer to your vision. But perfume alone the beauty does not make. In the end, it’s a delicate balancing act between enough description to draw the reader in, without detracting from where the story is going. It takes constant vigilance to ensure we, as authors, do not wax or wane too far one way or the other.

When we were writing It Takes Death To Reach A Star, we struggled with this. After all, we’d created this whole new world and there were so many elements to show and so many factions vying for a moment in the spotlight. Even though our entire story was set in a single city, we had created a universe with religions, cultural factions, and histories---not to mention the merging of real scientific theories and religious doctrine. At times we were totally overwhelmed with the scope of what we were trying to accomplish.

To our great relief, we feel we managed it with reviews applauding our world-building and comparing it to the likes of Philipp K. Dick. Yet the book is only eighty-four-thousand words. Quite average by any fiction standard. How did we achieve that?

Well, during the refining process, our amazing editor, Jason, came to us with a formula which we both now use in all our writing: The 25, 50, 75 rule. He said that at regular intervals, things should be happening. Little things. Everyday moments of story intrigue and character development. But interlaced between those moments, at major quarter intervals, something big should happen. Maybe it’s a major character reveal, a plot twist, or the development of an unforeseen love interest who promises to change the scope of the story, or a look into the villain’s plan to do something dastardly. But something important that is central to the story should happen. Then, between the little moments and the big moments, the reader is anchored to our story.

No more checking the smartphone or Netflix, because now our readers have to know what happens in our story. If we can achieve this, then it’s safe to go ahead and pop the champagne. When an author nails pace and structure and their story leaps to vivid life, everyone wins.

So, next time you’re outlining your book, think about the rule above. What are the big moments in the narrative? When you’re writing, try to include your descriptors as part of the story, the narrative. Let your characters experience the world and relay what you see in detail, but keep the experience moving. We don’t sit at our desks contemplating the shape of the keys at which we tap away. Instead, we press them and move our story along.

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A Dragon Award Nominee, Stu Jones is the author of multiple sci-fi/action/thriller novels, including the multi-award-winning It Takes Death To Reach A Star duology and Condition Black, written with co-author Gareth Worthington (Children of the Fifth Sun, A Time for Monsters).

Gareth Worthington is an authority in ancient history, has hand-tagged sharks in California, and trained in various martial arts, including Jeet Kune Do and Muay Thai at the EVOLVE MMA gym in Singapore and 2FIGHT in Switzerland. His work has won multiple awards, including Dragon Award Finalist and an IPPY award for Science Fiction.

Show Don’t Tell

By James Glass

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What Does “Show, Don’t Tell” Mean?

Good writing tends to draw an image in the reader’s mind instead of just telling the reader what to think or believe.

Here’s a sentence that tells:

Mr. Jeffries was a fat, ungrateful old man.

That gets the information across, but it’s boring. Most writers who tell tend to lose, rather than gain readers.  

Here’s a way to create an image of Mr. Jeffries in the reader’s mind:

Mr. Jeffries heaved himself out of the chair. As his feet spread under his apple-like frame, his arthritic knees popped and cracked in objection. Jeffries pounded the floor with his cane while cursing that dreadful girl who was late again with his coffee.

In the second example, I didn’t tell you Mr. Jeffries is fat. I showed you. I also didn’t tell you he was old, but showed you by mentioning his arthritic knees, his cane, and that he has a girl who tends to him. You probably guessed by now that he’s not a nice man. 

One of the most hideous examples of telling rather than showing is the “As you know, Mr. Jeffries,” dialog. This is when one character tells another something they both know. It’s almost as hideous when an author painstakingly uses dialog and action to convey something the characters all know.

However, like most rules of thumb, “Show don’t tell” is excellent advice most of the time, but writers can apply it too broadly, or in situations where it hurts more than it helps. You must be aware of the spirit, as well as the letter, of this particular law. New writers tend to lecture their readers. It’s never a good idea to bludgeon your readers with information. Or they may try to explain through dialogue. The key is to find the right mix between showing and telling. You don’t want to bore your reader. Pick up one of your favorite authors’ books and see how they capture your attention in the pages. Reading is one of the most effective leaning tools for a writer.  

If you find your writing feeling flat, take a step back and imagine the scene yourself. What sounds do you hear? What smells are in the air? What expression does your character have on his face? What are his motivations? Once you dig deeper into your own imagination, see if you can make your writing better by adding a few specifics. This will transport the readers to the scene you have in your mind.

So, let’s make today a good writing day. Whether one sentence, one paragraph or one chapter. It’s all progress. Make today a good writing day. 

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James Glass achieved the rank of Command Master Chief before retiring after 22 years in the United States Navy. After retiring from the Navy, he exchanged his rifle for a pen. He and his family moved back to Florida. James is also the president of the Panhandle Writers Group. He’s published five novels, one novella, and two (you solve the crime) chapter books.