What makes you a better writer?
You may have heard the advice to read more and to write more.
And that’s, of course, good advice.
But there’s more …
To be a good writer, you also have to practice the art of noticing.
When you learn how to observe better, you can write more vivid descriptions, communicate your ideas with flair, and engage your audience more strongly.
The 3 practices outlined below not only help you write more vividly, they may also help you nourish your soul, find a moment of calmness, and reconnect with yourself.
Shall I explain?
The art of noticing
I recently read the book The Sound of a Wild Snail Eating by Elisabeth Tova Bailey.
Bailey is bed-ridden due to illness, and a friend brings her a pot of violets and a common woodland snail. The snail becomes an object of fascination and a companion during Bailey’s lonely days:
One evening I put some of the withered blossoms in the dish beneath the pot of violets. The snail was awake. It made its way down the side of the pot and investigated the offering with great interest, and then began to eat one of the blossoms. A petal started to disappear at a barely discernible rate. I listened carefully. I could hear it eating. The sound was of someone very small munching celery continuously. I watched, transfixed, as over the course of an hour the snail meticulously ate an entire purple petal for dinner.
Have you ever slowed down so much and paid so much attention that you could hear a snail eat?
It doesn’t matter whether we write a memoir or a poem, a blog post or a sales page, all good writing is precise and vivid.
And to write precisely and vividly, we need to stop and pay attention.
Why is that so hard?
Exercise #1: 10 observations
Poet and teacher Marie Howe suggests paying attention is hard because we find it uncomfortable to be fully present with what’s right in front of us.
In an interview with Krista Tippett, Howe shares an interesting exercise:
I ask my students every week to write 10 observations of the actual world.
The trick is not to use metaphors (it’s like …), not to use abstractions (I saw a lot of people …), and not to interpret what you see (it made me think of …). Howe thinks this exercise is hard because an object in front of us—e.g., a grey mug with peppermint tea—doesn’t feel important enough. We want to give it more meaning. We want to look away.
According to Howe, after 4 weeks of practicing such observations, a transformation takes place:
The fourth week or so, [the students] come in and clinkety, clank, clank, clank, onto the table pours all this stuff. And it’s so thrilling. (…) Everybody can feel it. Everyone is just like, “Wow.” The slice of apple, and then that gleam of the knife, and the sound of the trashcan closing, and the maple tree outside, and the blue jay. I mean, it almost comes clanking into the room. And it’s just amazing.
This exercise in descriptive writing is, of course, a way to get out of our head and engage our senses.
And we can only do this if we slow down to a snail’s pace and if we care to really look and listen.
Exercise #2: The missing words
Paying attention is not just about describing our environment.
Slowing down to a snail’s pace also helps us notice our own feelings and emotions.
One of the features in Rob Walker’s newsletter on The Art of Noticing is a description of missing words. Below follows a description submitted by one of his readers—Mirja:
I am searching for a word for the lovely feeling when I am very cold and approach a front door and know it will be warm once I get inside. The same feeling as when I’m freezing and arranging logs in the fireplace but haven’t yet lit them, so I am still very cold, but feeling safe, knowing I will be nice and warm very soon.
Do you recognize that feeling?
And which other words for feelings are missing? Can you describe such feelings?
Finding the language to describe our feelings, helps us connect with each other. We learn that we’re not alone.
Each of our stories is unique, our lives are different, and each of our experiences is particular. But our feelings make us all human and connect us to each other.
There’s a shared suffering and a shared joy.
Exercise #3: The art of delight
A few years ago, the poet Ross Gay set himself a target to write a daily essay about a delight.
A selection of these “essayettes” are published in The Book of Delights. For instance, Gay describes the delight of seeing two people carrying a sack of laundry together:
It at first seems to encourage a kind of staggering, as the uninitiated, or the impatient, will try to walk at his own pace, the bag twisting this way and that, whacking shins or skidding along the ground. But as we mostly do, feeling the sack, which has become a kind of tether between us, we modulate our pace, even our sway and saunter—the good and sole rhythms we might swear we live by—to the one on the other side of the sack.
When we direct our attention to the small beauties around us, we can find delight everywhere. The abundance of green colors in the woods. The shapes of the clouds in the sky. The cheerful birdsong. The card received from a friend. The tulips received as a present. The smile of a passerby.
As Gay writes, his essayettes emerged from “a practice of witnessing one’s delight, of being in and with one’s delight, daily, which actually requires vigilance. It also requires faith that delight will be with you daily, that you needn’t hoard it. No scarcity of delight.”
Looking for delight doesn’t mean we ignore our pain or sadness (Gay writes about those, too).
But we give ourselves permission to find joy, no matter what. Especially when the world feels chaotic and scary, small beauties and tiny acts of kindness can fortify us and keep us grounded.
When we slow down to a snail’s pace, we can feel more human, and we can reconnect with ourselves and each other.
The art of noticing
Sometimes, writing feels like an act of rebellion in our world of busyness, distractions, and chaos.
It’s easy to feel we always have to speed up, be more productive, and get more done.
But good writing requires us to slow down and pay attention.
Slowing down and paying attention can help us write more vividly and more precisely. It can help us be more creative as we gain new insights and discover new connections.
But paying attention can also help us connect more strongly with each other and appreciate each other.
Paying attention not only helps us become better writers.
It can make us better humans, too.
Books mentioned in this post:
- The Sound of a Wild Snail Eating by Elisabeth Tova Bailey
- The Book of Delights by Ross Gay
- The Art of Noticing by Rob Walker
Recommended reading on the art of noticing:
How to arouse the magic of sensory words
Imagery examples: How to paint pictures with words
9 “show don’t tell” examples from inspirational storytelling
Absolutely loved this.
Thank you.
Thank you, Christopher 🙂 Happy writing!
Dear Henneke,
This article blew my mind. Thank you so much for suggesting it to me, as it is precisely captures the subject and content of my blog. You have more than answered my question; you have helped me make connections that I wasn’t yet able to see. My last small post was about a sense of longing — inspired by Susan Cain’s Bittersweet — when seeing a stuffed animal discarded on the side of the road — similar to what you describe in exercise #2 with shared suffering and joy.
And the snail munching on his purple petal — I must get this book.
Now I will write my tagline.
With gratitude,
Suzanne
I thought you might like this 🙂
Happy writing!
Hi Henneke,
What an insightful article! I am trying to write a fiction book, and I have learned a lot from your blog. You share a lot of amazing tips that can help aspiring writers. This article was an amazing read as well, and I will definitely be implementing these practices to become a better writer. Thanks a lot for highlighting the power of noticing, and sharing these helpful exercises. It will be a great help, really looking forward to trying it out!
Great! Happy writing, John 🙂
The most important thing I take away from your posts is your unapologetic use of the advice you give—no grey areas.
For this post, I love the exercises and how your writing gets an instant boost when you do them.
I’m glad you’re enjoying my blog, Paul. Happy writing!
This is enlightening and inspiring at the same time. The part about how we can find delight everywhere if we pay attention to the little beauties around us really got me. Thanks for sharing
Thank you, Chloe. I am glad you enjoyed this.
The simple act of paying attention can take you a long way – Keanu Reeves.
So true. Great quote! Thank you for sharing, Kuldeep.
Thank you for this, Henneke. The details about paying close attention, listening and delight really speak to me.
In the past year I have spent a lot of time scuba diving here in Cape Town. I love to be underwater, because it keeps me 100% in the moment and — you guessed it — paying close attention, listening and being delighted.
Wearing a dive mask means I have only a 30 degree window of vision and that view is packed with colour; the sounds of the reef are lively crackles and pops, as well as sometimes hearing larger animals (seals, sunfish, whales) in the distance; my delight in the life forms I see is absolute.
Your post has inspired me to find ways to link my delight in diving with my writing and drawing for the next wee while — something to look forward to 🐠
Thank you so much for stopping by, Alison, and for sharing your experience of being in the moment and paying close attention while diving. That sounds such a wonderful experience. I’ve never scuba dived and I always thought it would be mostly a visual experience. But recently I heard about whales singing and that sounded so interesting.
I love your idea of linking your delight in diving with your writing and drawing. I should pop back into Instagram soon to see what you’re up to! I hope you’re keeping well and safe. 💜
What a wonderful post, Henneke! I just returned from a spiritual retreat where one of the eight points was “slowing down”. Your article speaks to this aspect so perfectly – noticing and living in the present moment, engaging our senses to realize the true nature of things (without metaphors or abstractions).
I think I’m hearing that our writing can improve when we slow down enough to recognize how we feel about our stories.
What a wonderful comment. Thank you, Kit. I like your interpretation: “Our writing can improve when we slow down enough to recognize how we feel about our stories.”
There are so many benefits to slowing down—it improves our writing and our lives!
I love “The Art of Noticing”. Definitely going to check out the other titles you mentioned on the article. And those are all great tips, thanks for the inspiration!
I’m glad you enjoyed this, Giovanna. Thank you for stopping by, and happy reading!
Henneke, thank you for this brilliant resource. It will also translate well to a coaching exercise. Much appreciated, with gratitude. Pollyanna. x
Thank you, Pollyanna. I’m glad you find it useful.
Henneke, I absolutely loved this. Thank you so much for sharing, I’m sure your tips will be of great inspiration in my own writing.
Thank you, Kat. If I can inspire one or two people with this post, I’m happy. Thank you for stopping by!
That is a lovely thought. The snail’s eating noises are a magnificent example. And you are so right! It is about slowing down.. not speeding up.
The book by Bailey was such a surprisingly lovely book. I’m not sure how I came across it but I’m glad I did.
I can imagine.
And I can hear the snail eat…
In the end, that is life. A snail that eats a petal.
Hi Henneke,
This really encourages me to take note and notice. I love that you said that we need to notice how things are, and “record” the facts, rather than connecting our observations to our individual experiences.
Often, we can’t help but judge (and bring our own experiences into) what we see, but a writer’s first responsibility is to observe and record –and share!– things just how they are.
Thanks, Vanessa
I think there’s a place for both—to record our observations but also to connect them to our individual experiences. It depends very much what you want to achieve with a piece of writing.
I found this a lovely quote from Elisabeth Tova Bailey’s book, too: “The snail and I were both living in altered landscapes not of our choosing; I figured that we shared a sense of loss and displacement.” That’s very much connecting her own experience to her observations of the snail. But then again, this is a memoir, so you’d expect that.
Your words always surprise and startle me into a new way of thinking about writing. It becomes visceral.
Thank you, Sheila. Your comment means a lot to me, encouraging me to keep going. Thank you.
I imagine myself word painting in fine detail and subtlety and my readers huddled about me to catch every minutiae of my work.
What a lovely image!
This post is amazing. No, you are amazing.
How in the world do you come up with the ideas for these posts?
I am inspired and cannot wait to start “noticing” what is happening around me.
Thank you.
Mike
Thank you so much for your lovely compliment, Mike. And good to see you again here and to know you’re still reading my work. It humbles me.
I’m always hunting for ideas, and I also just follow my curiosity. I’m fascinated by the concepts of attention, focus, and mindfulness, and also how people find joy in their lives (no matter how hard life can be). That all came together in this post. Of course, I’m also interested in writing, and I’ve found there are parallels in how we live and how we write. When we can find joy in the hard work of writing, we can also find joy in living.
Very good exercises! I will try them.
I hope you’ll enjoy them!
Never imagined slowing down actually helps in writing more vivid details as you so lucidly explained !
And, you know, I’ve even found that slowing down helps to write a blog post faster. It’s weird how that works.
These are not only Writing tips .. brilliant Henneke .. appreciate every lesson I learn from you 🙏
Thank you for your lovely comment. I’ve found that there’s a parallel between finding writing joy and living joy. The skills that make the writing process more joyful apply to life, too.
I’ve gone back to the basics; I’m reading from “books” and not my iPad or Kindle…
I’m also looking to write better and reading your Blog – as well as taking your writing courses – which has made a definite impact on another aspect of my day-to-day way of looking at life: I never thought I’d be more serene and calm! Benefits all around!
Thanks!
Thank you so much for sharing your experience. That’s so wonderful to read. Thank you, Marc.
This is such a wonderful read. Nowadays writing seems to have crossed the barrier and jumped the “hobby” fence into a mandate for living. My mandate.
Thank you.
Thank you, Ayomide. I’m glad you enjoyed this.
This was intensely captivating as I read to the very end! Thank you Henneke for this enlightening piece!
And thank you for your lovely comment, ‘Dara
Hi Henneke,
What a wonderful post to read and reflect upon.
In the midst of the third wave of COVID in Alberta, Canada, time has slowed down enough to view the neighborhood scenery in much detail. We take a similar walk each day and I notice much more than ever before with the landscape turning from winter brown to spring green. The grass gets greener day by day and the trees are producing buds. It has been a forced hiatus from traveling but there are wonders in my own backyard.
Thank you for your post with inspiring me to notice even more and enjoy the moment.
Kind Regards,
Diana
Thank you for your lovely comment and for sharing your experience, Diana.
My experience has been similar. I’ve always enjoyed travelling. My year was planned around travelling and visiting family and friends abroad so staying in one place for over a year has been quite a big change for me. I’ve barely left the small town where I live and I’ve become more appreciative of our local surroundings and am paying more attention to the seasonal changes. The flowers. The grass. The first ducklings in the pond in the park!
Thanks Henneke for a reminder to slow down and focus on the now. It’s a daily struggle for me. Ironically, I read your post while forced to sit for 15 minutes after receiving my second vaccine. Normally I would have done something productive. Instead I sat quietly and just observed.
I also find it hard. Especially when I’m tired, it feels so much easier to pick up the phone and let myself be distracted.
Thank you for stopping by, Pierrette, and congrats on your second vaccination!
I have been using daily meditation and living mindfully to help me recover from a life-changing event that happened 3 years ago. Awareness helped me tune in to the here and now instead of focusing on the ashes of my life. It helped me find something to live for.
I never thought about writing about my awareness except in my daily journal. Your post gave me some great ideas about how to take awareness to a new level as a writer.
Check out the book, “The Untethered Soul” by Michael Singer.
Thanks for your great post, Henneke. There are a lots of nuggets of wisdom that will help with my journey as a writer and to help me heal.
It sounds like you’ve been through a traumatic experience and I’m very sorry to hear that, Bill.
I’m glad that meditation is helping you tune into the here and now, and to find something to live for again.
Being creative can also be healing so I hope writing will help you find meaning in life again, too.
Reading this blog post was “a delight!” Thank you for slowing down and taking the time to write and send this piece. It inspired and delighted me. Grateful.
Henneke, I deeply appreciate your style and approach. Keep up the great work.
Sincerely,
Syd
What a lovely comment. Thank you so much, Syd. You put a smile on my face.
I can totally understand why, in this day and age, people find it hard to “stop and smell the roses” per say. I need to slow down and look for the right words more often myself. My observations have grown, but I tend to be lazy when it comes to my word usage. I’m sure my poetry would be better if I just did that one thing! Thanks for this article, it was fascinating 🤗
Thank you for making the link between slowing down and word choice. I had originally wanted to write more about that in this post but it felt a bit too much.
I like picking the right words—but sometimes I feel my vocabulary is still too limited and I can’t find the right word.
Oi, Henneke, passando pra dizer que estou preso em seu blog há alguns meses. Você me fisgou pra valer.
E meu Deus!, que post incrível.
Como escritores, precisamos estar atentos ao mundo. Capturar os detalhes. Descrever o que vemos. O que sentimos. E ainda que soe bobo às vezes, não importa, é só um exercício.
Enquanto lia seu artigo, uma ventania violenta começou por aqui (é verão no Brasil), e as árvores ENLOUQUECERAM. Eram arremessadas para um lado, depois para o outro. Rangiam. Estalavam. Quase pedindo que a ventania, por favor, parasse de torturá-las.
Parei. Observei. Apurei os ouvidos. Escrevi.
E só consigo dizer o quão bizarro — e incrível! — é praticar a “Arte de Observar”.
I’m glad you’re enjoying my blog, Neto.
I hope you’re staying safe and well. Happy writing!
So right, as always, Henneke.
I often, or rather used to, sit in the Food Court of the mall and observe people and hear snippets of conversations and their mannerism and the way they conduct themselves. It’s so interesting. You can find me sitting in my garden and staring at just a leaf swaying gently in the wind, for hours on end.
Thanks for reminding that even inanimate objects like mugs are worthy of as much attention.
Thanks,
Shweta.
I also love watching people (and listening to snippets of conversations). It’s a skill that I’ve almost forgotten in the past year.
I like how you’ve put this: “even inanimate objects like mugs are worthy of as much attention.”
Thank you for sharing your experience, Shweta.
Thank you for an inspiring read — introducing me to Rob Walker — and for being a morning boost.
Enjoy your day Henneke.
Thank you, Dom. I’m glad this gave your morning a boost.
“But good writing requires us to slow down and pay attention.”
Henneke, I have so much to write, because I’m recently recovering from a near death trip to a hospital, but I cannot bear the pressure of obligation to write. The green of the trees, as you observed, has entranced me this spring, in this second chance at life.
I just want to rest and finish recovery. I want to have ” faith that delight will be with you daily”. On the ride home, I kep t delighting—only to think, “I must remember this, so I can write it.” And then I would remind myself that the memories would remain and Spring would continue, and I should only rest and delight.
I do remember one absurdly yellow truck cab that was somehow so fitting in its dedication to color. Have you ever delighted in the color of a commercial truck? Haha!
I’m so sorry you’ve been going through this near death experience, Katharine, but I’m very glad you’re now recovering, and hope you get fully fit again soon!
This year, it has seemed to me that the trees are greener, the daffodils brighter yellow, and even the birdsong seems at times louder and more cheerful. Or is it just that I’ve been paying more attention?
Take care and get well soon!
If a snake could be described as having broad shoulders this one would definitely qualify.
Where?
On the roots of that big Sycamore tree that leans out over the river.
What kind of snake?
Big. Brown. Mean looking.
Seems pretty cranky and territorial too. Mad when I stalk close. Pissed off when it slides into the water.
He’s always there when I loop back. Giving me the stinkeye.
Why?
Cause it seems like he’s guarding my favorite secret stash of Morels mushrooms on the sandy southwestern facing bank. Honeyhole, big rewards if the conditions are right.
Good luck timing that right.
Lately I’ve been mushroom hunting. Potentially delicious springtime walking meditation. A practice that demands you slow down. Notice things like, well, everything around you if want to find the jackpot.
Which doesn’t always happen.
But they say,
The journey is the reward. But you can’t win if you don’t play. What other cliches can I torture today?
Bottom line. I love me a perfectly seasoned cast iron skillet. First olive oil rubbed in with paper towel. Butter. Heat. Freshly picked Morel mushrooms. Transfer to a saltine.
Enjoy!
I like I do with your posts Henneke!
Thank you so much!
Stay safe.
The fresh mushrooms with olive oil make my mouth water.
But the snake sounds a bit scary. I don’t think I’d be brave enough to jump over or run around the snake to get to the mushrooms.
I’m glad you survived your encounter with the snake, Phil.
I love the two last sentences! 😉 Great article!
Thank you, Magda. A couple of days ago, I woke up with those two sentences in my mind.
Thanks so much for the e-mail and the concept.
Thank you, Irene. I appreciate your comment.
Thank you so much! It’s nice to share my experience with you. And well, I have a lot more to learn about noticing after reading your post.
Always looking forward to your email Henneke. Your words are uplifting. Thanks for sharing.
Thank you, Mabvuto. I’m glad you’re enjoying my writing.
Your post was so enjoyable and thought provoking that I lingered on and digested every word and sentence. With everything you do and share, you put in so much care and thought and love…. the content, the timing the frequency, the feeling… soo impressive and well received.
Thank you for your art, your spirit and your thoughtfulness.
Raj
What a beautiful comment. Thank you, Raj. Writing something like this nourishes my soul, too.
I agree whole heartedly!
This. I feel more human just reading this. Thank you for reminding me of what my spirit knows but my brain often rushes past. Thank you for giving me permission to slow down to a snail’s pace. I needed these words.
Thank you, Henneke.
And thank you, Cindy, for taking the time to leave a comment. I much appreciate it!
Isn’t it weird how our spirits know but we don’t listen? I’ve been there so often, too.
I strongly agree with your idea of those practices. It’s nice to slow down and be for the moment you’re in so you can’t miss any good things in life. I’m not a good and frequent writer but I like to simply write what I feel, how I feel in when I’m alone or have troubles. Thanks for your sharing.
It sounds like you’ve mastered the art of noticing already well. And I like that you write to describe how you feel when alone or having troubles. Writing can be so therapeutic. Thank you for stopping by and sharing your experience.
Oh how I enjoyed this post. Thank you Henneke
I’m so glad you enjoyed it! Thank you for letting me know, Susan.