Sense of Smell

It's been such a busy summer and I apologize for being so slow in writing this installment on The Five Senses.

Our sense of smell is another sense that tends to get downplayed in our writing. When I was able to find examples of it–after much searching–in my own or anybody else's work, it was usually used to alert the reader to something that could harm them, or to describe something that was extremely offensive. Maybe this is because we treat it the same way in our daily lives.

In a primeval world, your sense of smell could save you from a predator or help you track down your next meal. Imagine if you couldn't smell a brush fire bearing down on your home, or the biting smell of a poisonous substance in a juice bottle. What if you couldn't enjoy the smells of pumpkin pies and other spices during Christmas and Thanksgiving, or coffee brewing in the morning?

A few years ago, I worked as a technical editor and spent my nine hours a day in a cubicle that bordered the office's main hallway. I found I not only could recognize who was coming down the hall by their footsteps, but by their smell. The "smell" in this instance pertained to one guy in particular, not because he needed a bath, but because he wore so much cologne that it gave away his identity even when you couldn't see him.

Smells are all around us. Stop and sniff for a second. What do you smell right now? Nothing? Try again. Maybe it's your own perfume that you've grown accustomed to. Maybe it's that green tea with lemongrass that you just took a sip of. Or maybe you just removed your hot, sweaty feet from your tennis shoes. Phew! You get the picture.

As writers, we could have a lot of fun with this sense if we would only use it. Here are a few examples I found to get you thinking of how you can make sure you don't overlook it in your own writing.

From The White Mare by Jules Watson: "Outside, the tiny hut's reek of fish and dung smoke was washed away by the dawn air."

From Desire's Treasure by Linda Sandifer: "White hair poked out from under his mangled hat, and the rank smell of creosote and greasewood drifted up from his tattered britches."

From Fatal Voyage by Kathy Reichs: "The wind shifted and the smell of smoke grew stronger. I turned and saw a thin, black plume curling upward just beyond the next ridge. My stomach tightened, for I was close enough now to detect another odor mingling with the sharp, acrid scent. . . .the smell of charred flesh. One gorge over, people were burning."

From Last Breath by George D. Shuman: "There was a goldfish in a bowl, a ceramic angel on a clapboard dresser. She saw these things sideways, head on a bed, yellowed, stained sheets; the room smelled of cats and unwashed laundry."

From Outlander by Diana Gabaldon: "I smelled a faint flowery scent, as of lavender water, and something more spicy, mingled with the sharper reek of male perspiration."

Next up, the sense of touch. That one ought to be even more interesting!