Thursday, May 04, 2006

Noticing What Was Not Meant To Be Noticed.

One of the services we writers perform for our readers is pointing out things that others don't notice—particularly things that were meant not to be noticed. For example, next time you handle a paper-wrapped sugar cube, open the paper carefully and notice that there's a tiny rip in the inner flap. It's there to keep the wrapper from splitting somewhere more conspicuous, in case it expands from humidity.

The rip has always been there, but, of course, you never noticed it. A writer could build a story or a scene around that tiny hidden flaw. (Can you?) But if you don't see it, you won't use it.

So here's an exercise you can do anywhere to help you discover interesting things about the setting:

Pay attention and see if you can notice five things that were not meant to be noticed. Write them down, and work at least one of them into a story.

Here's an example (without the story):

Things seen in a restaurant that were not meant to be seen.

1. The waitress had "trainee" written in tiny letters on her name badge, but when I commented on it, she ever after took great pains to demonstrate her competence in every task.

2. The sign said drinks were extra, but it was small, placed inconspicuously, and partially covered with plastic leaves from a decorative plant.

3. One server flipped some spilled garbanzo beans back in the buffet bowl when he thought nobody was watching.

4. The customer at the soup counter didn't notice all my signs of age, and wanted to bet that he was older than I. He was 53. I, 72. After I told him, though, he noticed enough wrinkles to accept my word for it. I noticed him noticing.

5. There were three kinds of "butter" spreads on the buffet, labeled so you wouldn't notice that only one of them—the hardest one to reach—was actually butter.

So, give it a try and post your results.

1 comments:

Dan Starr said...

The word "maple" no longer appears anywhere, not even in such a context as "artificial maple flavor," on the most popular brands of pancake syrup. Who knows what the stuff's supposed to taste like?

Fine print on the comment page: "Comment moderation has been enabled. All comments must be approved by the blog author." Good thing--means that even though I'm commenting on an entry that's been "dead" since May, at least ONE person will read my comment...