Fill up your senses...OR ELSE
As stress runs rampant through our bodies and deep focus remains as elusive as a greased watermelon, it's vital that all of us doing creative work surround ourselves with sensory comfort.
I’m sure some writing teacher or another told you at some point to pay attention to sensory detail.
Strong narrative writing appeals to all five senses. Human beings apprehend pretty much all of reality through sight, sound, smell, taste, and touch, and if your book doesn’t offer a fiesta of those to readers, nothing in it will feel real.
“Pay attention to sensory detail in your writing” is good advice. It is good advice that I hope you already know.
What your teachers might not have mentioned is that you must also pay attention to the sensory detail surrounding you as you write.
What I mean by that is: depending on how sensitive you are to external stimuli, the sensory context in which you write will affect the quality of what you write with an impact ranging from huge to gargantuan.
Sensory context wields an ENORMOUS—and in my experience underestimated—influence on creative process. This is especially true in a high-stress, high-trauma, high-reactivity time like Le Pando. Chronic stress depresses our executive function, the neurological librarian we all rely on to retrieve esoteric words, images, and ideas from the stacks of our memory. And we can’t summon creative genius without it.
After two years of nonstop shit, most of our inner librarians are exhausted to the brink of collapse. The few who haven’t quit already are now rocking back and forth dead-eyed at their desks, one stray fart waft, desk crumb, loud sneeze, or finger poke away from sinking forever to the floor.
In order to have a prayer of their staying on the job, we must give our inner librarians the nicest possible working conditions—IMMEDIATELY.
Part of what I mean by that is psychological: strong boundaries and healthy relationships as well as the sort of mindfulness practices and rituals I sent around last week.
The other part, the physical, is what I’m focusing on today. Our inner librarians should get delicious daily meal service, leveled-up luxury office supplies, shoulder massages, a nap room with lavender eye bags, and anything else their hearts desire (that you can also reasonably afford).
In other words: for most of us in creative fields, sensory nourishment is no longer optional if we want to have a prayer of producing quality work.
Yes, and: sensory nourishment might not be enough to get you there. If so: I’m sorry, and it’s not your fault. This is a pandemic, a social disaster; it can’t be broomed forth from your life with lavender and sage.
However, there’s a chance lavender and sage—or whatever equivalent pleases you—might give your creative genius just enough slack that it doesn’t bolt today. You know? Let’s control what we can.
If you haven’t considered your sensory surroundings as you write—or if you’ve told yourself they shouldn’t be a priority because you have work to do or other people to take care of or no one should “need nice things” to function or whatever—consider this an order.
Your brain needs sensory nourishment. Now.
Below are some low-cost suggestions of ways you might stimulate and please all 5 senses in your own working environment, all of which I like and use in my own home office. This stuff is really subjective, though. You know what you like to be around; please give yourself permission to be around it.
Anyway: