A Sensuous Christmas

A lesson from the festive season

Among other things, Christmas is a feast for the senses: the smell of pine, the aroma of mulled wine, all those twinkling lights, the sound of laughter, the roar of an open fire, the taste of rich food, the texture of snow (if the weather obliges!). Everything is designed to heighten our appreciation of the event and send our senses into overload. Maybe one of the reasons Christmas is such a rich and memorable time is because we celebrate it with all of our senses.

If writers want to create vivid scenes, they need to appeal to the senses too. If we can help our readers to smell, taste, touch, see and hear our descriptions, they are more likely to be immersed in them. Sometimes, when I read my scenes through I realise they are ‘flat’ and lacking in texture. I am so keen to get down the dialogue and establish some actions that I forget to engage my readers in events by appealing to their senses. One such example is an episode from my first novel, ‘The Oceans Between Us’ when Jack, my protagonist, discusses with his adoptive parents what he should call them.

Here is how I first wrote it:

There’d been a debate about the names Jack should use for the Sullivans.

‘I think you should call us Mum and Dad,’ said Kathleen.

Jack wasn’t sure how to answer. If he turned down Kathleen’s suggestion, she might send him back to Bindoon and replace him with another boy, one more eager to please. If he accepted, it would be as if his own parents hadn’t existed. It was hard to remember much about them now, though. He’d been too young when his father had died to recall anything of Mick Malloy other than his name. And all he had of his mother were some increasingly blurred memories of her dancing and singing. Although whenever he caught the scent of lily of the valley, Mum came to mind.

For once, John came to the rescue. ‘He only had one mum and dad and they’re dead,’ he said. ‘What about Mr and Mrs Sullivan?’

Kathleen baulked at that one. ‘Too formal.’

‘All right. John and Kathleen, then. What do you think, sport?’
Jack nodded with relief. John and Kathleen suited him fine. He could still tell himself he’d only had one mother.

The key points come across here, but they are delivered in a vacuum and hence the reader feels remote and disengaged.

Now here is the scene again with some actions added and senses appealed to:

There’d been a debate about the names Jack should use for the Sullivans.

‘I think you should call us Mum and Dad,’ said Kathleen. She was making jam in the kitchen, stirring the bubbling red liquid in a huge saucepan. A warm, syrupy smell oozed through the room. Jack hovered near the door, wondering if he dared dip a finger in if Kathleen happened to turn away. It would be worth the pain of a burn. They were never allowed jam at Bindoon. The promised oranges hadn’t appeared either. All they’d eaten was porridge, dried bread, and gristly meat, slip-pery with grease.

Kathleen didn’t look like his mum. Her hair was fair where he thought his mother’s had been brown; it was pinned up close to her head where he sensed Mum’s curls had hung down the side of her face. Mum was younger too. But maybe they were both the same shape.

Jack wasn’t sure how to answer. If he turned down Kathleen’s suggestion, she might send him back to Bindoon and replace him with another boy, one more eager to please. If he accepted, it would be as if his own parents hadn’t existed. It was hard to remember much about them now, though. He’d been too young when his father had died to recall anything of Mick Malloy other than his name. And all he had of his mother were some increasingly blurred memories of her dancing and singing. Although whenever he caught the scent of lily of the valley, Mum came to mind.

For once, John came to the rescue. ‘He only had one mum and dad and they’re dead,’ he said, laying out sheets of newspaper on the floor ready to polish his shoes. ‘What about Mr and Mrs Sullivan?’
Kathleen baulked at that one. ‘Too formal.’
‘All right.’ John dipped a brush into a flat tin of soot- coloured paste. ‘John and Kathleen, then. What do you think, sport?’
Jack nodded with relief. John and Kathleen suited him fine. He could still tell himself he’d only had one mother.

Hopefully, those extra sensuous details help the passage to come to life and absorb us more intensely as a result.

This is my last blog before Christmas so I hope you have a wonderful time – and may the sensuous elements of the festive season live on in your writing for the months to come.