Ready, Steady, Write - Day 3

What do you notice?

What do you notice?

Writers are people who notice things. They’re like secret detectives who lurk around corners, chewing their pencils and writing down what they see and hear. If you want to spot the writer in your class, look for the person who is always staring out of the window or the one who sits quietly in the corner scribbling and doodling on their notebook, the one the teacher tells off for daydreaming. If you can’t spot them it’s probably because you are that person. Daydreaming is a writer’s superpower. 

For this exercise though, I want you to really pay attention and tell the truth about the world around you. You might be in your bedroom, or another room in your house, or you might choose to sit outside to write. The great thing about this kind of writing is that you can do it over and over again in different places and get different results. You might even be able to use those snippets of writing in future stories. There’s a thick blanket of snow outside here as I write and, soon, I might take my pen and paper outside and write about how it feels to be outside in it. Then, maybe one day, if I’m writing a story set in the snow, I can retrieve my notes and recall exactly how it felt.

Pay attention to your five senses and write down everything you can see, hear, touch, smell and taste right here, right now, wherever you are. Good writing uses as many senses as possible but don’t worry if you can’t use them all. You can only write about taste if you’re eating something (which might be a good reason to sneak downstairs and get that chocolate bar from the cupboard…………)

Here’s what I wrote: 

I can see the kitten stretched out on the duvet, his head resting on his front paws, back legs relaxed. The other kitten sits behind my laptop. I can’t see him but I can feel his weight on my shins and I can hear him purr rhythmically like he is singing his own kitten song. Outside, the birds are tweeting and I can hear my neighbour’s voice and the thwack, thwack, thwack of an axe chopping firewood. Next door, the children’s feet are thumping up the stairs and I hear the flick of a page turning as my son reads his book. Homeschool is nearly over and there is snow outside. I feel the warmth of raspberry tea as I take a sip from my mug. The scent of lavender lingers on my pillow from the night before. All is quiet and peaceful.