Observe the Moment

Remember reading something and sitting back in amazement at how the author chose those perfect words to describe the scene? For example, this is how Charles Frazier described a character playing a fiddle in Cold Mountain:

It was a careening tune, loopy and syncopated, with little work for the left hand but the bow arm working as frantic as a man fighting off a deer fly from around his head.

That mental image is a delight. And I can't imagine those words coming to me if I was trying to describe something similar.

The World Through Your Eyes

The way you look at things is your strength. Not what you're looking at. Only you see the world the way you do. Pay attention to the little details that make the scene interesting. If you can't describe what you see in a captivating way, then it doesn't matter if you're looking at last winter's dusty grey wind-blown leaves on the patio outside your office window, or the red shoes clicking down the Champs-Élysées.

I was at the Corner Bakery in Draper one morning and wrote the following. It's an example of observing my surroundings and trying to put them down in my words, just an exercise that had nothing to do with the story I was currently writing.

There's a lady in one of the stuffed chairs in front of me. Laid back, reading and looking at pictures on her Kindle in the landscape position. Her fingers in a thoughtful position to her lips, holding a stylus that she never uses. Black windbreaker, matching stylish black cap, bright fuchsia shirt. Her blond hair in a faux wind-blown style sticking out from under the cap, narrow reading glasses, olive capri shorts. All the pieces in place, but the sum is less than the parts. In spite of all the effort it still feels like she's in a house dress with curlers—if anyone still wears curlers in their hair.

Changing your surroundings helps to break your routine. Go to a restaurant or coffee shop by yourself with your notebook. Pick somewhere they won't be rushing you out. Sit where you can observe people coming and going, other tables around you. Listen for unique words or phrases. Now capture some aspect of what you see. Your voice comes out by the things that capture your attention and the words you choose to describe them.

Even if you're at home right now, look around you. What are the details you observe that show your own character? Try to write a paragraph that captures the feel of where you are.

Capturing Memories (Without Digital Cameras)

A Record That I Was Here.

Last weekend when I went to the Corner Bakery Cafe in Draper to write, I also took a few minutes and painted my empty plate and napkin.

When it's so easy to snap a photo and post it to Facebook and move on, picking up a pen and notebook puts the world in slo-mo, and pause even. The same thing happens when I draw and paint. For these few moments I stopped my mind from constantly grinding through all my worries and concerns and focused on the napkin on my plate, the way the light reflected off the different textures.

I stopped and observed the people around me and tried to describe them in a combination of words that was meaningful to me. Out of all the moments that will make up today, all the moments I give to others, that dribble away watching something on TV, running errands… I have these few moments that are mine. I have a record of my attempt to capture these moments in words and images.

Writing at the Corner Bakery Cafe

I went to the Corner Bakery Cafe in Draper this morning. After a toasted sourdough panini breakfast sandwich I uncapped my pen and took a few minutes to write in my notebook.

There's a lady in one of the stuffed chairs in front of me. Laid back, reading and looking at pictures on her Kindle in the landscape position. Her fingers held thoughtfully to her lips, gripping a stylus that she never uses. Black windbreaker, matching stylish black cap, bright fuchsia shirt. Her blond hair in a faux wind-blown style sticking out from under the cap, narrow reading glasses, olive capri shorts. All the pieces in place, but the sum is less than the parts. In spite of all the effort it still feels like she's in a house dress with curlers—if anyone still wears curlers in their hair.

A couple tables away sits a soccer mom with her teenage son and his friend. They're in their high school soccer uniforms, she's pulled out knitting needles and a ball of dark grey yarn and is furiously knitting away while interrogating the friend. They're silently chewing and texting except for the occasional barely-audible grunt replies and barely-visible eye contact while she desperately pecks away at their teenage ennui.

After a few minutes to myself writing, I take a deep breath and the world feels right, at least for a little while. Not the best writing, not the worst. But at least I spent a few moments capturing my observations.