Writers Should Be Great Observers

Art, in what I believe to be the purest definition, is interpretation.

Art, no matter the medium, whether it be writing, painting, music, or otherwise, is an expression, in some way, of how the artist views the world around them.

Sometimes this can take more abstract forms than others. An artist like Kandinsky, for example, interpreted the world in a way many would find unrecognizable. Then, could not the same be said for great writers of fantasy and fiction? Gene Wolfe certainly saw something in society or humanity that many did not recognize. Heck, I’d even say Melville presented an interpretation of humanity that went over like a lead balloon for those looking for a clear pane of glass- so to speak.

So yes, art, your writing, is an act of interpretation.

Then what, exactly, is it that we are interpreting? As already alluded to, we are filtering our view of the things we see, touch, smell, experience, etc., through the medium of our art.

For this reason, writers, like all artists, should be keen observers. Your curiosity of the world around you, or the skies above, or the universe inside you of your thoughts, feelings, and sensations, should be unceasing. You should be in a near-constant state of observation, taking in the details, wondrous and subtle, of everything you come in contact with.

This sounds overwhelming. And distracting. It doesn’t have to be. The kind of critical eye we want to have as writers, is being able to suss out what we believe can help inform our work.

Let’s start with the most direct form of observation: visual observation. Learning to take notice when you find something striking and how to ‘archive’ those observations for later use. Look out the window. Really look! Don’t just cast your eyes outward. Take it in. Be present in what you are gazing upon. Take a moment and see the world.

What do you notice?

Better question. Why do you notice what you noticed? Further, why do we notice things more often when we are in unfamiliar surroundings? If you’re really puzzling on this because you think it’s a trick question, it’s not. We notice things more in unfamiliar situations precisely because they are unfamiliar. Our brain is a pretty miraculous thing in terms of how it filters information for prime efficiency. That also means that it stops finding wonder in our day-to-day surroundings because it would be cognitively inefficient to do so.

However, when we travel to new locations, we are struck by the almost stark differences between them and our normal surroundings. Every minute detail that could be information the brain needs later stands out. The greater the difference, the more you notice it. That’s why seeing something like the Grand Canyon or Niagara Falls for the first time can be a borderline zen experience. It’s a moment of near total awareness.

So the challenge is to find ways to have a Niagara Falls moment in your everyday. This requires, again, a sort of zen practice. A sort of external mindfulness. Where instead of being hyper aware of yourself, you instead turn your awareness outward and become fascinated by every detail around you.

Next, you want to find a way to interpret what you are seeing. This is where your creativity comes in as a writer. I like to do a separation exercise here where I delineate between the ‘brain’ and the ‘mind.’ For our purposes in this exercise, the ‘brain’ is going to tell us what we are seeing, and our ‘mind’ is going to tell us why it is important. Here’s an example.

While driving through New Hampshire last week as part of my travels, I was absolutely struck by the landscape and started taking copious notes. At one point, as the sun was starting to go down, the lighting seemed particularly interesting. I chose to interpret this through the lens of a horror writer on this occasion. My ‘brain’ was telling me “the light is getting lower and shadows are objectively getting longer.” My ‘mind’ chose to interpret this as the note ‘a dim, murky twilight that lingers far too long into the afternoon fails to penetrate the devouring shadows of the dense forests.’

Had I been in a more romantic mood, I might have written ‘a warm glow of sunlight cascades across dozens of little groves and dances atop the leaves.’ Or something like that.

Here’s your assignment. Look back out the window from yesterday. Those things you noticed? Write them down. First as a ‘brain’ observation and then again as a ‘mind’ interpretation where you begin to turn them into art.

Observation can be difficult when it comes to being in your own body. So much of what goes on inside us, even on an emotional level, is almost a background noise of mundane experience. Which, sounds a bit bleak or disconnected. And it is. Disconnected anyway. Part of that goes back to optimum cognitive efficiency. Your brain would be working overtime if you really noticed every time you went from being mildly amused at something to quietly delighted. Make sense?

However, part of this also relates to a modern plague of non-presence. Lacking presence of mind, or simply not being present in the moment. Our talks in the space of digital distractions allude to this. There is so much going on around us at such a pace that our minds wander to anywhere but the here and now.

I’ll give you a heads up, this next observational technique might sound a bit crunchy or woosa for some of you. But trust me, this can really improve you as a writer.

Let’s try and get reconnected to the feelings, sensations and emotions going on inside our own body. Why? Well because when you try to write a character experiencing an emotion, how do you expect to make it realistic or relatable without first understanding how you, yourself, experience that feeling or emotion? How do you intend to write about the pain of a broken bone, the elation of a promotion at work, the heartache of a painful breakup or the comfort of a cozy robe unless you have paid attention to those experiences in your own life? These are just examples, of course, but you see the point.

Here’s what I want you to do. Learn a body scan meditation method. There are a lot of apps out there to help you with this- I recommend ‘Insight Timer,’ it’s what I use and it’s free.

Body scanning is the act of bringing all your focus and attention to each part of your body and noticing how it feels in the moment. In mindfulness and meditation, you notice and then let go, so this is where our exercise as writers will deviate. I want you notice and hold on to those sensations. Record them. Understand how your body feels in its own skin. Maybe you pick up on a stiff neck or a creaky knee. Seems pretty relatable, right? How much more realistic would it be to add these attributes to a character you’re writing to make them seem all the more alive?

Repeat the body scan exercise, but this time noticing your emotions. Even slight ones. I mean, be honest, when was the last time you really felt truly completely neutral? What little anxieties gnaw at your attention? What tiny excitements are you holding on to? Do you have lingering doubts, or a rising tide of gladness?

Record these things. They are ALL fodder for your writing.

Now that we have spent some time practicing intentional observation, let’s apply those lessons to the remaining senses. What I want you to do is go into your writing, right now, and pick out a scene where one of your characters is experiencing something. Maybe they hear a sound for the first time, or taste something interesting, or feel a fine cloth. Whatever it is, I want you to read back to yourself how you have described that sensation to your audience.

Now, I want you to go out, and as best as you can, experience that same thing your character is. Seek out that cloth and run your fingers across it. What does it remind you of? Is it smooth? Fuzzy? Coarse? Bring your thesaurus if you have to, but write down as many words that come to mind as you touch that thing. Same for the other senses of observation. Take the time to really experience them. When you hear a raptor scream from the skies, how would you describe that to someone? What is it that makes it so unique and attention-grabbing? Why do you notice the odor of garbage, or the acrid scent of fresh tar?

Remember: your brain tries to cut down on the amount of input it processes to optimize efficiency. It’s not just the things you see that eventually fall into background noise. It’s what you touch, and smell, and hear, and taste. I want you to start bringing your focus to these things. Really experience your life.

I realize that sounds a bit like a motivational speaker. But consider that part of what makes the human experience stunning is our very ability to sense the world around us. Your job as a writer is to interpret those observations and convey them back to a reader who may never have felt, or seen, or heard, or smelled those same things.

The better you are at being present and intentionally observing how even day-to-day things impact you and shape your experience, the better you will be able to bring those same experiences to the page. Readers like to be engaged. Especially in fiction, they want to be swept away and feel like they’re experiencing something alongside the characters they’re reading about. Even in non fiction, like in advertising or marketing, there is a real advantage to being able to effectively impart an experience to someone.

Observe intentionally. Everything.

Artistic interpretation is the license you have to take an observation and mold it to the moment. Everyone sees a sunset differently. How do you want the sunset to fit your narrative? You can describe the colors of it, but through what lens do you filter the experience of a sunset, not just the sight of it? Does it convey a sense of dread as it is a harbinger of creeping monsters coming out at night? Does it stir excitement at the possibility of an evening of frivolity and revelry? Is it a quietly sad final note on a long-lived day? Your observations are the colors in your palette, and your artistic interpretation is the brush you use to paint the picture.

Every experience is important. Even the mundane. You never know when you’ll need to write about the slog of rush hour traffic or the dull buzzing of the fluorescent lights of a corporate office. Never discount something you are observing because it feels ordinary to you. Those are all valuable experiences for you to potentially impart.

So observe with intention. Be present in your daily life. It will make you a better writer.