Sensory Language in Creative Nonfiction Short Stories

Ah, sensory language. It's the secret weapon in writing that grants readers the opportunity to walk in a narrator's shoes. From imagery to auditory and tactile detailing, sensory language makes for rhetorical strategies that breathe authenticity into a short story or scene.

I especially enjoy talking about sensory language in conjunction with creative nonfiction, as the doorways between personal memory and description often go hand in hand with ease.

Creative Nonfiction is a writing style that adheres to (or is at least greatly inspired by) true events or experiences. Its basis in truth is what grants the genre its partial title of nonfiction, but it offers interesting permissions by introducing itself as a creative writing genre. With creative writing, the author has the space to alter names, precise timelines, and even some details of the story itself without the risk of damaging the integrity of the true event.

Sensory Language refers to linguistic choices that refer to the 5 senses: sight, sound, smell, taste, and touch. Of course, sensory (or descriptive) language can be used to greatly enhance any scene. What I especially like to encourage among authors I work with is using sensory language to enhance absence in a scene. Sensory language is for much more than describing the people, places, or things in a story; it's there for exposing deep vulnerability in the writing.

Examples of Sensory Language in Action:

First, let's take a look at a scene that aims for emotional appeal, but perhaps neglects effective sensory language in favor of narrative interiority:

Christmas morning without my husband there seemed colder, somehow. The house was too quiet this morning as the girls jostled me out of bed, scurrying to the living room piled with glittering toys. He went overboard this year because he knew that he would be missing today, hundreds of miles away onsite with his work. He's missed a lot of days lately, and the girls are finally showing it, the nervousness. They hope he's thinking about them as much as they think of him, but they just aren't sure. I'm not sure. Like always, he was doing his best to support us, but still our daughters looked at me with new dolls limp in their hands. They asked, "When is Daddy coming home?" How can I explain this to them, today of all days? I'm so sorry, girls, I want to say. I'm so sorry Santa Claus isn't enough this year.

Next, let's look at the same scene that has more focus on sensory language.

Our girls giggle on the living room floor, papers and bows torn and glittering in a circle around their Christmas morning joy. In their bubbling laughter, I can't help but feel myself thinking of my husband. It was his turn to work Christmas Day this year, but it isn't enough to say we miss him today. I miss him today. His work is far away, and it supports our family; that much is true, but mornings like this leave me focusing on all the spaces where he should be. I take a sip from my steaming mug of coffee. The breakfast blend floated out of the kitchen with me as the girls tore into their first gifts, and I nestle into the him-shaped indent in his leather chair. Another sip, and I close my eyes, willing his wide smile and bright eyes into view. Any second now, I think, he could walk through that door, a silly Santa hat flopping in front of his eyebrows.

"Mommy?"

There he goes.

"Where is Daddy?" our oldest asks. "It's Christmas."

---

Analysis

Of course, both paragraphs in these examples have merit as scenes. They both lay successful groundwork for themes that can resonate with a target audience. By incorporating a layer of sensory language, however, the scene provides more for the readers to view and experience.

Phrases like "bubbling laughter," "steaming mug," and "the him-shaped indent in his leather chair" all engage sensory language. They work to open the scene more holistically for the reader. For an occasion that might be familiar to most readers, Christmas morning, there are still signs here that offer a glimpse into someone else's realistic worldview. These nods to small intimate details can bring resonance to a piece. By provoking something so special and familiar as the audience's own Christmas morning traditions, yet contrasting that familiarity with unique sensory details, the author effectively draws readers in.

---

Let's Practice!

Here's a quick exercise you can try on your own to bring out stronger sensory language in your creative writing:

First, write a couple of sentences that describe your morning. Keep them short, sweet, and simple. For instance, "I'm always the first one awake, and today was no different. The pets scrambled for my early morning attention. I brewed a whole pot of coffee, sipping my hot to-go mug even as I slipped out the front door."

Next, look for all the places where you could add description to those sentences. Can you better create an image of the people/places/things in your sentences? You can even go so far as to describe yourself here as one of the people in the scene. Are you a morning person? Was this morning different somehow? What added stress, or interrupted the normalcy of the routine?