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Storytelling

Where do you start?

By Teresa RentonPublished 3 years ago Updated 7 months ago 7 min read
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Photo by Teresa Renton (author)

… but I don’t even know what a skunk smells like?

How do you tap into your creativity? Where do ideas come from? Whatever stage we're at, we can often get into a pit of ‘stuckness’.

What should I write about? (or paint, sew, or compose) I feel like I have exhausted my well of interesting ideas and there’s nothing left to lift my soul, nor that of others.

I'd like to share some specific strategies that help me when I need a nudge. These strategies focus on using your senses to spark ideas for poetry, prose, memoir, and stories.

This is a deep dive into the juicy pool of sensory pleasure and exploration, running with thoughts, creating stories, and evoking senses in poetry and other writing. I'll focus mainly on the sense of smell, but the same tips apply to each sense.

Identifying five types of smell:

-actual

-memory triggering

-sensory layering

-anticipated

-unknown

Let me explain each one in turn.

Actual

Firstly, there are the obvious smells in the here and now. Inhale the scent and savour the feeling and any memories that are evoked. Describe the smell, dig deep and draw out the essence of the smell. Write it down if you can, on your phone or in a notebook. There is no need for perfection, just note down what comes to mind. Here is an example of one of my scribbled notes:

…damp earthy smell of autumn leaves...

Memory triggering

Often, actual smells blend seamlessly into memory triggering smells. The autumn leaves took me on a journey into my mental diaries and found a memory.

...drifts up, surrounds me with memories of collecting shiny conkers with friends; they looked good enough to eat--chestnut nuggets stuffed into coat pockets with a scarcity mindset only children have in relation to such treasures.

Once you describe the sensory experiences surrounding you, you trigger memories. Write these down too, in as much detail as you can recall. Remember to lose yourself in the moment; this isn't the time for rushing. Notice whether the memory relates to the smell directly,

I remember these mulchy leaves from my childhood; I was always foraging for conkers;

or whether a smell has led you to a place, person or event,

My favourite place was Epping Forest, where I hid behind the large oak and my grandad thought he'd lost me.

Sensory layering

The scent of one thing could lead to a memory that triggers feelings and emotions. Imagine walking past a fragrant magnolia bush; it triggers a memory of your grandmother’s favourite perfume. This could be a beautiful recollection of how you would always know when she was approaching; how her scent reached you first, followed by kindness streaming from her crystal blue eyes, and her warm smile, (memory triggering). Tears settle in your own eyes as you remember. You remember how you never got to say ‘goodbye’ (sensory layering). Write it down. The potential of your creativity is in your story.

Anticipated

As you continue to walk, you see a farm, in the distance and you already have the sweetness of the hay tickling your nose. You know that around the corner is the chocolate factory but your tastebuds already react to that sweet aroma before it actually reaches you. Minutes from the park gates, the familiar coffee trailer will sit in its usual place by the swings. The cheery vendor will have your brew ready for you because he knows. He knows that you have anticipated the whiff of rich, complexity from his brew and that you won't resist his single-origin organic coffee. You think,

I'm particular about my coffee, I'm like those people who enjoy a single malt whisky.

You consider,

hold on, I hate the smell of whisky, although it does remind me of my Uncle Wilbert, who bought one expensive bottle every Christmas. It lasted all year.

Now how have you arrived at your Uncle Wilbert’s idiosyncrasies regarding whisky? It's by anticipating the smell of the coffee at the park gates. Do you see how this works? Write this down.

By now, your creative cells should be dancing and sparking your synapses into party mode.

Unknown

Have you considered unknown smells? You walk past a windowsill, upon which sits a jasmine plant. You recall how your sister, a keen gardener, espoused the sensuous fragrance of the night-scented jasmine. You have never experienced this but would dearly love to. You recall the holiday you had in Poland together when you passed the flower stalls, brimming with a cornucopia of brightly coloured blooms smelling of fresh summer. She asked, 'Have you ever smelt night-scented jasmine?'

To this day, it is still on your bucket list of smells to experience.

Have you ever alluded to something that stunk worse than a skunk? I don't know how bad that really is, but it's an accepted fact that, with regards to this, ignorance is bliss. Unknown smells frequently visit our narratives and sneak in dressed up as the known. Night-scented jasmine evokes a sense of mystery meandering through veils of heady summer evenings; it's a fragrance of femininity. Whilst the suggestion of a skunk, well, I won’t go there.

We incorporate unknown smells into our stories without reservation. We often do this with the assumption that we know the associated feeling, even if we don't know the smell. Others have done the work, and we accept it as received knowledge.

Image by Teresa Renton (author)

Evoking the senses without stating them

This is a whole topic that warrants its own post, but I felt it prudent to introduce it here for completeness. Sometimes, I get carried away thinking I have to describe how something smelt, looked, tasted, sounded, or felt. However, we can economise on words by not doing that. I try to remember this when editing my drafts. Mentioning that you walked through lemon groves is probably enough. The reader gets it. Trust the reader. Create the image, let the reader experience. Look at these lines from The Coming of Yams and Mangoes and Mountain Honey by James Berry:

...mango soaked in sunrise,

avocado is a fleshy green.

Colours of sun, stalled in groups,

make market a busy meeting.

The sweetnesses of summer settle smells.

Mints and onions quarrel.

Nutmeg and orange and cinnamon hug

themselves in sun-perfume.

Is this not a cornucopia of deliciousness? Can you smell the market? Did we need a description of the smell of a mango, or cinnamon?

What about this line from Chaining Bikes to this Girl is Strictly Probibited by Caroline Bird:

Sorry for eating shit and borrowing your toothbrush.

Tell Your Story

Firstly decide how you approach this; you could go for a walk—real or imaginary, or just sit where you will have no disturbance. Next, let your mind wander; maybe recall some memory from the past if you need somewhere to start. Exciting or mundane, an actual event from memory may work better than a generic one; but see what works. As you set off on your real or metaphorical walk, do so with purpose. As you wander, pay attention to what you experience.

What is in your notebook, or phone? Perhaps you didn't take notes, but simply revelled in the experience and the meditative mindfulness of focussing on smell, and where it took you. Perhaps you prefer to re-live that walk now, with the coffee you bought earlier, and write about your experiences.

Maybe for you, these sensory experiences have been brewing in your mind and are now ready to be unleashed upon the blank page. See if you can revisit the experiences from your notes or your mind. Sit awhile and reflect on them; perhaps other memories will arise.

Then write. Write with abandon and do not stop. Go back and flesh it out. Edit and shape and, if possible, leave it to rest. I guarantee you will be happy with the result. It's of no consequence whether you choose to share this writing with anyone else. You may decide to incorporate snippets into a work in progress. You may rework it into an essay. It may live in the private haven of your journal.

However, harnessing creativity is like any other skill: you need to practise and train that muscle. This entire exercise not only improves your writing but also your memory, mindfulness, gratitude and wellbeing.

Let's recap

Image by Teresa Renton (author)

Notice what you sense in the here and now;

Notice what you remember when a scent greets you;

Notice how one experience triggers memories of another;

How does it make you feel?

Notice how you anticipate a scent before you smell it;

Notice how you own the unknown.

I am still always learning, and I know many others are too. There are some brilliant books on the art of writing, but how do you start? How do other aspiring writers go about things?

I want to share my journey and grow with you. I want to show you what I am learning. I would like you to share your tips, approaches, and methods with me. I'm sharing the things that I want to see out there—practical steps people are taking in their creative journeys.

Please engage with me in the comments below. If you can recommend any Vocal stories around this subject, please share with me, and if you enjoyed this post, I would love it if you would share it too.

Thank you for reading. Now go forth and create.

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About the Creator

Teresa Renton

Inhaling life, exhaling stories, poetry, prose, flash or fusions. An imperfect perfectionist who writes and recycles words. I write because I love how it feels to make ink patterns & form words, like pictures, on a page.

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