Authors: In the realm of the Scent's

[CharleyH]

For whatever reason, when I was walking around today I began to think of the movie Perfume . I loved the film. Visually, there were many gorgeously masterful scenes that dripped with the work of a creative cinematographer. However, the movie was about scent and not vision, at least not vision in the primary text anyhow. As I started to recall the movie, I began to notice the scents around me. It's not that I've ever not noticed scents before, but rather I just didn't quite stop to notice them in this specific way and I began to wonder if that particular movie had a serious flaw in it: the inaccurate interpretation of scent.

Movie aside, I started to then (as one does walking around) wonder how writers describe scent. I seriously can't think of any well-known author that lingers on scent descriptions, but this of course is in recollection and I must admit that I'm a much more visual reader. Yet, scent plays a potent role not only in our lives, but in stories.

As I walked from the library back home a man was using a hose to clean the sidewalk in front of his store. The water on the pavement had the slight hint of dirt similar to the smell of the city after a rain storm, yet it didn't just have a scent. I specifically felt, as I walked over the wet pavement, as if I'd passed through a bubble of coolness. Similarly, passing a small bit of construction, I could smell the gas from the truck that was running and simultaneously felt the heat of the gas as I passed through the smell. It had me pondering whether or not all scents have a similar hot and cool or cold effect – if all smells also have a 'feel' or 'touch' if you will.

Question:

As a writer, how do you describe scent? Do you merely tell what something smells like or do you simultaneously describe the scent's taste and feel? Do you think that you should describe anything else other than the actual smell when you are writing about a particular smell in a story?
How important is 'scent' to a story?

 

[Vermilion]

Question:

As a writer, how do you describe scent? Do you merely tell what something smells like or do you simultaneously describe the scent's taste and feel? Do you think that you should describe anything else other than the actual smell when you are writing about a particular smell in a story?
How important is 'scent' to a story?

God, I don;t think I can describe how important scent is to me as I write a story. This, however, does not always come through into the story... I know I've mentioned scent in them, though I can;t think of any specific examples right now, but when I am in the process of writing a story I have everything *so* clear in my head that I can smell the smells I'm thinking of.

I'd like to think this makes its way into the writing, but I couldn;t say for sure... are there any readers of my stories here? Did you get a strong sensual impression apart from visual/touch?

x
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[BonsaiBeauty]

Lovely thread. I'm a huge believer in the power of scent. It creates intese eroticism and makes people/situations/places stronger in memory.

I always try to use olfactory descriptors in my writing to define smell both in terms of the actual odors/scents created and the feelings evoked by them. A particular smell can even be the driving force behind a reverie in my writing.

I can think of several writers who use this to great effect. Tennessee Williams is one, also Henry Miller and Anais Nin. Shakespeare also created one of the best olfactory descriptions (IMHO) in "Antony & Cleopatra." He describes Cleopatra thus:

The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne,
Burn'd on the water: the poop was beaten gold;
Purple the sails, and so perfumed that
The winds were love-sick with them; the oars were silver,
Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made
The water which they beat to follow faster,
As amorous of their strokes. For her own person,
It beggar'd all description: she did lie
In her pavilion--cloth-of-gold of tissue--
O'er-picturing that Venus where we see
The fancy outwork nature: on each side her
Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids,
With divers-colour'd fans, whose wind did seem
To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool,
And what they undid did.


Sorry to quote the entire passage, but it's one of my favorites. And, the part about the smell is the part that I always remember most.

 

[CharleyH]

God, I don;t think I can describe how important scent is to me as I write a story. This, however, does not always come through into the story... I know I've mentioned scent in them, though I can;t think of any specific examples right now, but when I am in the process of writing a story I have everything *so* clear in my head that I can smell the smells I'm thinking of.

You are a reader, V. If scent is important to you as a writer, then on some level it must be important to you as a reader. There must be influences somewhere? Hopefully, you will think of them.

Without giving a sample of your writing, how do you write scent? Do you consider the feel of it, for example. What are your considerations?

are there any readers of my stories here? Did you get a strong sensual impression apart from visual/touch?

While there is nothing more I'd love to do than have a thread critiquing your stories, I *smell* self-promo. My intention is to discuss scent and its importance or not in writing and to us as authors more than talk about our own writing.

 

[Vermilion]

You are a reader, V. If scent is important to you as a writer, then on some level it must be important to you as a reader. There must be influences somewhere? Hopefully, you will think of them.

Without giving a sample of your writing, how do you write scent? Do you consider the feel of it, for example. What are your considerations?



While there is nothing more I'd love to do than have a thread critiquing your stories, I *smell* self-promo. My intention is to discuss scent and its importance or not in writing and to us as authors more than talk about our own writing.

Sorry Charley, it wasn;t self-promo. No point, no new stories for a while and everyone here has seen my old ones already. I really was just hoping for a heads up if I had used it at all. I know I've described food in a very very detailed way, so I imagine that had smell in it.

As a reader though... I should imagine one of my favourite authors, Elizabeth Berg, has used smell, but you'll have to excuse me while I rootle through our chaotic (thanks for 'tidying' Fiance) bookcase to find a book by here and see if I can find an example.

x
V

 

[Vermilion]

Nope sorry. I know it's there, but it's buried beneath heaps and layered heaps of Ian Flemings and Frederick Forsyths... <sigh>

I know there are detailed descriptions of sensual experiences in those books, for example in Never Change where the main character is making a lemon meringue pie and later when she eats chocolate brownies and I am 8sure* there is something about smell there. Dammit. I;m cross now. Where's that fucking book?
x
V

 

[dr_mabeuse]

Scent is the most emotionally evocative sense, bar none. A whiff of grandma's jewelry box or an old toy can take us instantly back to a point in memory before we could even talk. It's kind of staggering to be faced with a memory from a time when we saw the world differently, and smells can bring them back just like that. Nerves from the olfactory bulb in the brain go directly to the amygdala which is involved in emotion regulation and the association of emotion with memory, so there you go.

At one time the entire world was raw emotion, snorted through the nose - fear in that direction, anger in that one

I use scent a lot in my stories, simply because it's such an easy way to set a scene. I wanted a loft to feel hot and claustrophobic so I had it like dust and like machine oil. Out in back of the Chinese restaurant it smelled like hot iron and garlic oil. After a rain in the city it smells like steamy concrete.

The thing with writing scents is that they're like flavors. They can be named, but they're almost impossible to describe. I still don't know what "pungent" means. Like ammonia? Like crap?

For some reason my smells always seem to be associated with temperatures. Maybe that's because in real life we notice smells when the temperatures change.

Wait-- Another thing: I use odors an awful lot when I write horror. When I write horror I bring everything down close to the mouth - a lot of tastes, a lot of smells, a lot of "texture-y" things, people getting things in their mouths and noses all the time, air getting thick. I have a special horror of suffocation, so maybe that's it...

 

[CharleyH]

Sorry Charley, it wasn;t self-promo. No point, no new stories for a while and everyone here has seen my old ones already. I really was just hoping for a heads up if I had used it at all. I know I've described food in a very very detailed way, so I imagine that had smell in it.

As a reader though... I should imagine one of my favourite authors, Elizabeth Berg, has used smell, but you'll have to excuse me while I rootle through our chaotic (thanks for 'tidying' Fiance) bookcase to find a book by here and see if I can find an example.

x
V

It's ok babe, just want to stay on point. I still think you said something important in your first post. You said that scent was important to you. Why do you not think it comes through in your stories? Do you feel something else takes precedence? What would you love to add to your stories, about scent? Again, I am not looking for a sample of writing, just your opinion on looking at your own writing or the writing of others that inspire you.

 

[CharleyH]

Lovely thread. I'm a huge believer in the power of scent. It creates intese eroticism and makes people/situations/places stronger in memory.

I always try to use olfactory descriptors in my writing to define smell both in terms of the actual odors/scents created and the feelings evoked by them. A particular smell can even be the driving force behind a reverie in my writing.

I can think of several writers who use this to great effect. Tennessee Williams is one, also Henry Miller and Anais Nin. Shakespeare also created one of the best olfactory descriptions (IMHO) in "Antony & Cleopatra." He describes Cleopatra thus:

The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne,
Burn'd on the water: the poop was beaten gold;
Purple the sails, and so perfumed that
The winds were love-sick with them; the oars were silver,
Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made
The water which they beat to follow faster,
As amorous of their strokes. For her own person,
It beggar'd all description: she did lie
In her pavilion--cloth-of-gold of tissue--
O'er-picturing that Venus where we see
The fancy outwork nature: on each side her
Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids,
With divers-colour'd fans, whose wind did seem
To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool,
And what they undid did.


Sorry to quote the entire passage, but it's one of my favorites. And, the part about the smell is the part that I always remember most.

You look to a lot of plays rather than novels, and I find this intriguing. It's been so long since I read Tennessee Williams, but I am especially trying to recall 'Suddenly, Last Summer' where I know he MUST have added scent into the dialogue.

You mentioned you were an entertainment writer. Quoting you, I am now wondering if you write screenplays and I am curious about how one would write "scent" into one without dialogue?

 

[CharleyH]

Scent is the most emotionally evocative sense, bar none. A whiff of grandma's jewelry box or an old toy can take us instantly back to a point in memory before we could even talk. It's kind of staggering to be faced with a memory from a time when we saw the world differently, and smells can bring them back just like that. Nerves from the olfactory bulb in the brain go directly to the amygdala which is involved in emotion regulation and the association of emotion with memory, so there you go.

At one time the entire world was raw emotion, snorted through the nose - fear in that direction, anger in that one

I use scent a lot in my stories, simply because it's such an easy way to set a scene. I wanted a loft to feel hot and claustrophobic so I had it like dust and like machine oil. Out in back of the Chinese restaurant it smelled like hot iron and garlic oil. After a rain in the city it smells like steamy concrete.

The thing with writing scents is that they're like flavors. They can be named, but they're almost impossible to describe. I still don't know what "pungent" means. Like ammonia? Like crap?

For some reason my smells always seem to be associated with temperatures. Maybe that's because in real life we notice smells when the temperatures change.

Wait-- Another thing: I use odors an awful lot when I write horror. When I write horror I bring everything down close to the mouth - a lot of tastes, a lot of smells, a lot of "texture-y" things, people getting things in their mouths and noses all the time, air getting thick. I have a special horror of suffocation, so maybe that's it...

Interesting points I must say. I never really thought about the word "pungent" before. Not sure I've ever used it, either. Pungent might be a word I would write when I want to get across an especially powerful smell that wasn't to my taste (but as a writer what is pungent? To me it may be one thing, and a reader might consider the same word a turn-on - ie a foot fetishist might find pungent attractive) I think it's the kind of word that, maybe, needs a qualifying description of smell?

Also, interesting that you automatically associate smells with temperature. I honestly just discovered it walking around today. I noticed that the temperature actually changes depending on the smell, and that is what fascinated me most in my walk. And I am interested in learning a little, here - thank you.

You use the word odour when discussing horror and not aroma or scent? In the context that you exemplify I can understand why you choose this word. Odour (semiotically, of course, and in the context of horror) ) might stimulate the imagination to think of something a bit on the 'unwanted' side, something foreboding or even bad. Scent and aroma don't have that same "mal" effect. Just talking aloud and not making sense to most people, but thank you for the insight, Doc.

 

[Roxanne Appleby]

In my stories I have described the scent of pussy, and referred to the scent of coffee. The first is explicit, the second evocative. (shrugs)

 

[CharleyH]

In my stories I have described the scent of pussy, and referred to the scent of coffee. The first is explicit, the second evocative. (shrugs)

Interesting. :| Might I ask why (maybe I am a little afraid to do so) you described the scent of pussy with an analogy to coffee? (edit to add other than the addictive qualities).

 

[damppanties]

Interesting. :| Might I ask why (maybe I am a little afraid to do so) you described the scent of pussy with an analogy to coffee? (edit to add other than the addictive qualities).

Maybe she drinks her coffee out of...uh...?



I think she's talking of two different instances, Charley.

 

[Roxanne Appleby]

Maybe she drinks her coffee out of...uh...?



I think she's talking of two different instances, Charley.

Roger that.

The first happens during explicit sex scenes involving people who are tasting pussy for the first time. The descriptions are actually more taste now that I think about it, but I'm sure there's some scent in there too. It's pure "stroke" language. The coffee references occur like, oh the next morning, and have nothing to do with sex. Depending on the time of day they are kind of like porn to me too , but they in the story they are about creating a setting for comradely rehashing - " 'Wow, that was some good fucking last night!' (Sip.)"

 

[gauchecritic]

I'm not sure that I write about scents, even knowing that aroma holds a gigantic part of the memory (ghost sightings are often reportedly accompanied by the smell of fried onions).

I know they are extremely evocative, but they are very personally evocative. I have no doubts whatsoever that they are in the class of attempting to describe music. They both may give a common experience to the author and reader but it is hardly likely that they evoke the same things in any large percentage of both.

You can qualify that and say 'it always reminds me of' but the scent itself has its own connotations for most people. Whenever someone describes old people as lavender and flour I have absolutely no idea what they're talking about. As part of my job I've visited a very large number of old people's houses and never once have I come across lavender and flour. In fact when I get home from work I change clothes immediately, not because I can smell anything different but because my wife can smell 'old people'.

An interesting point I found some years ago, there are friends houses that I visit regularly, some are very welcoming or familiar (the house not the people) some are faintly unsettling and uncomfortable and some are entirely without character at all. I eventually discovered that it wasn't the furnishings, it wasn't the people it wasn't even little yappy dogs that I wanted to kick through the window it was the very different and distinctive smells of each house.
Some had cats, some were always brewing or baking, some were smoke filled but it wasn't any of those activities that made the entire smell of the house, it was the lived in quality of the aromas.
The houses that I least liked entering at all were those that were bereft of any odour at all.

 

[CharleyH]

Maybe she drinks her coffee out of...uh...?

Enema's are fun, I guess.

 

[CharleyH]

Roger that.

The first happens during explicit sex scenes involving people who are tasting pussy for the first time. The descriptions are actually more taste now that I think about it, but I'm sure there's some scent in there too. It's pure "stroke" language. The coffee references occur like, oh the next morning, and have nothing to do with sex. Depending on the time of day they are kind of like porn to me too , but they in the story they are about creating a setting for comradely rehashing - " 'Wow, that was some good fucking last night!' (Sip.)"

Indeed, pure stoke. So how do you describe the scents of ... sex?

 

[CharleyH]

I'm not sure that I write about scents, even knowing that aroma holds a gigantic part of the memory (ghost sightings are often reportedly accompanied by the smell of fried onions).

I know they are extremely evocative, but they are very personally evocative. I have no doubts whatsoever that they are in the class of attempting to describe music. They both may give a common experience to the author and reader but it is hardly likely that they evoke the same things in any large percentage of both.

You can qualify that and say 'it always reminds me of' but the scent itself has its own connotations for most people. Whenever someone describes old people as lavender and flour I have absolutely no idea what they're talking about. As part of my job I've visited a very large number of old people's houses and never once have I come across lavender and flour. In fact when I get home from work I change clothes immediately, not because I can smell anything different but because my wife can smell 'old people'.

An interesting point I found some years ago, there are friends houses that I visit regularly, some are very welcoming or familiar (the house not the people) some are faintly unsettling and uncomfortable and some are entirely without character at all. I eventually discovered that it wasn't the furnishings, it wasn't the people it wasn't even little yappy dogs that I wanted to kick through the window it was the very different and distinctive smells of each house.
Some had cats, some were always brewing or baking, some were smoke filled but it wasn't any of those activities that made the entire smell of the house, it was the lived in quality of the aromas.
The houses that I least liked entering at all were those that were bereft of any odour at all.

LOVE IT! You are becoming all mushy semiotic on me. Can you explain more about the experience of 'lived in' qualities? Actually, a question for all here ... what does your home smell like?

I am living out of a suitcase right now, but will think about the current house and get back to you on it.

 

[Roxanne Appleby]

Indeed, pure stoke. So how do you describe the scents of ... sex?

"Both were naked, and fully aroused, in a room redolent of the aroma of stimulated-and-satisfied female lust . . ."

 

[Sapphire_O]

One of my childhood books that I remember the best had a lot of scents in it. "Up a Road Slowly" by Irene Hunt. The smells in the book were almost magical in that story.

Most of the erotica that mentions smells just say things like "her aroma." I think trying to descirbe the specifics of that could become humorous of even gross in the wrong hands.

 

[cantdog]

Scenting

Scents are linked to memory. I smoke a pipe, and I do it outside, nowadays, since smoking has become an exclusively outdoor sport. At least once in ten days someone comes up and tells me they love the smell of pipe tobacco, and they usually add that some beloved grandfather or uncle or dad smoked a pipe. Smells evoke memory as nothing else does. A whiff of wild roses or of balsam fir at Christmas can evoke a suite of memories. Old, sick dogs; open ocean; blood; burnt powder from guns, the swamp; the woods; the farm-- each is a key to memory, if your earlier life included them.

Smells are pleasant or unpleasant largely due to the memories one has associated with them. Gasoline (petrol), for instance-- some people actually get sick to their stomach smelling it, whereas to me, it has a clean, chemical smell. Growing up, I smelled it most often at camp, because of the outboards. Camp was fun, camp was good. Therefore, on the whole, I have a good feeling about gasoline smells.

Smells are also even more visceral than that, because of pheromones. House apes have several different scent producing systems, as many mammals do. Pussy! Yum. Uh, I mean, for example, there are glands, well, never mind.

Ahem.

Many disease processes have characteristic scents, too. Measles, for instance. I know most of us were inoculated, but anyone who has had the disease or had the care of a person with it can testify that there is a characteristic measles smell. It is unmistakable. I carried a person on my ambulance and told the nurse to whom I turned her over that I was entirely certain she had measles. A phone call later confirmed it, but I only made the call to satisfy my driver, who didn't think it was entirely proper that I be diagnosing, as a mere EMT.

Fuck that, I said. When you know, you know. What if someone hadn't had the shots? They'd be at risk, treating her, if they didn't have a warning.

Gangrene is another example. Unfortunately, I know way too much about that smell. Cat is right. Impending death is detectable, even for us. We suppress and discount our sense of smell a lot, we house apes, and it's because, while it is never impolite to notice things, it is frequently rude to say so. Smells, especially. There's a social fiction that smells do not exist, in polite society.

I trained my own sense of smell, deliberately, as I tried to develop a palate. (I cook.) I can tell shallots from scallions in a cooked dish, by smell alone, now. I can identify many different herbs in a restaurant meal. These things are not difficult, but you have to train your awareness. Took me better than a decade of work on it. It's not a dimension of life that a lot of people cultivate, but all gourmets and most cooks will know what I mean.

During some of that time, I was still in the fire service, and it made me useful. Some of our calls are smell-of-smoke calls. Someone smells something hot, or smells smoke, or seems to smell melted plastic, melted insulation or charring, and they call the firemen. On calls like this, I was the go-to guy. The sooner you can find the source and satisfy the caller with an explanation of what it was that he was smelling, the sooner you can go back to the station and sleep! C Crew was very glad to have me along on smell-of-smoke calls.

So I believe the cat is non-mysterious, except only that it chooses to snuggle with the dying. All cats would surely know who was on the way out via disease, but why would this one go and sleep with them?

 

[cantdog]

So in my stories, I mention it when smell becomes important. Sex is one of those contexts for it. But if you see a character in one of my stories who, I say, has noticed a smell, and who does so often, you will know that this character is the good guy, man.

 

[Edward Teach]

I have used smell in stories but not nearly often enough. I think to be truly effictive, smells need to be rather common ones. Most readers would understand new mown grass that smells like watermelon but a perfume smelling of honeysuckle probably wouldn't be quite so familiar.

In one of those 100 word blurt threads, I recently used lemon scented air freshner as a metaphor for a love affair gone sour. I kinda liked that.

 

[neonlyte]

Interesting points I must say. I never really thought about the word "pungent" before. Not sure I've ever used it, either. Pungent might be a word I would write when I want to get across an especially powerful smell that wasn't to my taste (but as a writer what is pungent? To me it may be one thing, and a reader might consider the same word a turn-on - ie a foot fetishist might find pungent attractive) I think it's the kind of word that, maybe, needs a qualifying description of smell?

I like 'pungent' and use it in the sense of momentarily overpowering, a smell that grabs at the back of the throat, might make you sneeze or your eyes water. Sometimes, but not always unpleasant, like walking into an old church, unventilated, beewax and dust, stale cloying incense, spluttering candles, overwhelming olfactory assault while my eyes adust to the darkness.

 

[Vermilion]

Interesting points I must say. I never really thought about the word "pungent" before. Not sure I've ever used it, either. Pungent might be a word I would write when I want to get across an especially powerful smell that wasn't to my taste (but as a writer what is pungent? To me it may be one thing, and a reader might consider the same word a turn-on - ie a foot fetishist might find pungent attractive) I think it's the kind of word that, maybe, needs a qualifying description of smell?

Also, interesting that you automatically associate smells with temperature. I honestly just discovered it walking around today. I noticed that the temperature actually changes depending on the smell, and that is what fascinated me most in my walk. And I am interested in learning a little, here - thank you.

You use the word odour when discussing horror and not aroma or scent? In the context that you exemplify I can understand why you choose this word. Odour (semiotically, of course, and in the context of horror) ) might stimulate the imagination to think of something a bit on the 'unwanted' side, something foreboding or even bad. Scent and aroma don't have that same "mal" effect. Just talking aloud and not making sense to most people, but thank you for the insight, Doc.

OK, just woken up so please bear with me...

I just find it interesting that, in describing smell, people use musical terminology (top, middle and base notes) but that smell itself does seem to comprise of temperature... for example, I think you could probably class smells as warm or cool, much in the same way as colours... let me have a go...

Cool
cut grass, rain, strawberries, lavender,

Warm
Coffee, musk , hay, roses, bread

ok. brain power has now run out.
breakfast time
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