You’re chugging along, getting your daily word count in, when you look back and, ‘Oh no!’ the fresh images you thought you were sparking are fizzling on the page.

Or your critique partner complains, “Boring! Get to the good stuff!”

We’ve been there. A lot of folks have been there. We all hope to stay away from there.

“Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced.”

― James Baldwin

Follow these tips to draw your reader close and hold them tight.

Tip #1: Tension

As my fishing father used to say, ‘Hook ‘em, and keep ‘em hooked.’ Essential on the water, essential in our writing. A strong opening line works wonders for getting a reader going. But, we can’t stop there. We need to keep the tension high.

Take, for example, this slow opening paragraph:

The dawn peaked above the field. Mist twirled in the cool air, illuminated by the golden rays of the early morning sun. A bird called, it’s song a dance across the meadow’s flowers. Vigorous bees darted about, buzzing around white and gold daisy sparks, red-paintbrush bursts, and bluebell splashes of wildflowers, the colors coating the rolling field.

Snooze-fest 2019. Boring. Great images, but jeez, what are we doing in this field, and it’s so early, I want to be sleeping, where’s my coffee…

So, let’s insert tension into the scene. First, though, think about it. How would you do it?

I crumbled his letter in my hand and paced beneath the old oak tree, my dew laden dress brushing through the meadow grass. Mist twirled in the cool air, illuminated by the golden rays of the early morning sun. A bird called, searching for a mate, its lilting song a dance across the meadow’s flowers. The rapid clomp of a galloping horse reached my ear moments before-

Who’s she waiting for? Is this a lover? Is it a doctor for her sick father? We don’t know, but we want to.

Tension pulls our readers in, making them ask, ‘What next? What next?’

Tip #2: Reduce Filter Words

“You wanna fly, you got to give up the shit that weighs you down.” – Toni Morrison

Now, if you haven’t been privy to the filter word exposé, I am excited you’re here. This one technique will change the way you write. Doctors hate it.

Filter words look like these:

she saw

she felt

she knew

she smelled

she touched

etc.

These words distance your reader from your character. Instead of riding inside our characters head, we’re floating just over the shoulder.

In fact, these words, and the way they operate in our writing, are reminiscent of the ‘me’ and the ‘I’ of self-psychology. According to psychologists, there are two aspects of the self, the ‘Me’; all the characteristics, memories, things, and traits that make us, us, and the ‘I’; the thing that’s observing all that stuff. Go look in the mirror. Ok, that thing standing there, all those hopes and fears and dreams, that’s the ‘Me’, the thing that’s watching, that’s the ‘I’.

We want our readers to be in the story at the point of the ‘I’. Said another way, our readers want to experience the story, not watch someone experience it.

Nothing teaches like an example. Let’s get to it:

Alanna looked at the dusty path. She knew she had to continue, she couldn’t make herself take the next step. She heard a hawk scream high above. She dropped to her knees and cried.

Now, we’ve distanced ourselves from the experience of Alanna. The phrases ‘She looked’, ‘she knew’, and even ‘she dropped to her knees’, forces us to experience the story from a removed perspective, from watching the ‘Me’. We want to get real close to her. We want to be Alanna. Let’s make my readers ‘I’ and Alanna’s ‘I’ the same.

The dust hovered above the long path ahead. Alanna had to continue. Had to, but couldn’t. A hawk screamed, it’s call echoing through the hot desert mountains. Two tan puffs kicked up as she fell to her knees, sticking to the hot tears tracking down her face.

Removing filter words will change your writing. No longer will your readers ride around in the heads of our characters but they will ‘become’ our characters, smelling every flower and swinging every sword.

Now, like every tip and rule in the book, remember, there’re times when filtering is needed. There’re times when your character needs to ‘look, smell, and know’. Be diligent.

You could even write a story with mostly filtering and make it work. This technique is excellent for representing a character in a dream-like state or one who is dissociating. However, be sure to show your character without the filtering at some point. The juice is in the juxtaposition.

Tip #3: Specificity

Oooo, this one’s my favorite right now. (FDA Warning: All favorites subject to change, I reserve the right to be a fluid being.)

Why say car when you can say Trans-Am? Why say tree when you can say oak? Why say hay when you can say hoe? (Farm humor? Bad SeaPea, no more jokes for you.)

You know. You’ve probably heard it before. (If not, I’m jazzed you’re here) Be specific! Specific images, specific words, specific traits, all of it enlivens the world you’ve created.

From emotion: don’t say mad, say irate—to setting: don’t say floor, say linoleum, say hardwoods, say tile. You get the idea. Specific language packs a punch.

As writers, we have the power to draw a specific image in our readers minds about who our characters are or what our setting looks like.

Now, here’s the trick. Beware: You can go overboard. Don’t be specific with everything. Or, do, but edit it out later.

Be specific about a few distinct and important things. The color of the car she’s seen parked out front of her house for three nights now, or the fine china his sister is jealous of, passed down to him from his great grandmother. Those specific details will draw the reader in, will lead them to make guesses; what is that car doing out there or why did he get the china and not his sister? When our reader is asking questions about our story, they’re in.

And here’s the key. Practice. I’ll say it again, because I like repetition. Practice.

“You don’t start out writing good stuff. You start out writing crap and thinking it’s good stuff, and then gradually you get better at it. That’s why I say one of the most valuable traits is persistence.” ― Octavia E. Butler

Looking for some prompts? Check out Barabara Baig’s book, Spellbinding Sentences. There’s a ton of exercises for increasing word choice awareness.

You can also free write while targeting specificity. Go for five minutes. See how it feels. And, don’t forget when you edit your work, ask yourself ‘Can I use a more powerful or evocative word here?’ Oh, and, of course, one of the best ways: write poetry! Poetry gets your mind in a different place then prose. Poetry forces you to ask, does this line work? Is there a better word? Practice, again and again. Over time, you’ll see serious improvements.

*wipes brow* All right, I’m stepping off my ‘specific’ train here, though I’ll say more in the future. Keep an eye out for a post.

Bonus Tip: Use Your Senses

Your readers want to be a part of your world. Drag them in, show them around, it‘s our job. They want to smell the blood on the battlefield, feel the kiss on their cheek, taste the chocolate on their tongue. Give ‘em what they want.

During our day to day writing slog, we can lose track of the little things. We can forget to use all of our senses in our writing. I love to write about how hot or cold things are. I love to write about pain. But taste? Taste I forget about. How did that bean stew the Ermani soldiers shoveled down after defending Lanta taste? Probably pretty damn good. I’m sad I missed it.

Smell is another biggie. What’s the smell below a pier on the ocean? Or in the halls of a Space Colossus? Figure it out. Go there in your mind and tell me what your sniffer is sniffing.

Check it out, lets combine this tip and tip number two into one mega tip example. *Horns sound*

Ok, the Space Colossus. Close my eyes, go there and… It smells like ozone and cold metal. (see hot or cold, I’m obsessed) Our character is a stowaway 14-year-old. Name: Arturo.

Example:

Arturo crept down the maintenance shaft. He smelled the… NO! Wrong! Bad SeaPea!

Like this:

The metal door below rattled. Arturo’s heart jumped. The smell of ozone and cold metal wafted up the stairs. Below, the shadow cast by the guard in the now open doorway stepped forward, into the shaft. Gods.

Now we’ve avoided filtering and we’ve layered in sensory details. A sound, sight and some smells. We could do more. We could edit the beginning of the story and add in how the metal of the railing felt under his hand, but like I’ve talked about above, to keep our readers entranced, the story has to keep moving forward, has to have tension. If we sit around too long, detailing every thing, we risk becoming boring. Use a few telling sensations and let the reader’s imagination do the rest.

Ask yourself these questions next time you’re getting your words in. What does my character see? What do they smell, hear, taste, feel? Thread those into your descriptions and bam, your scene will be Hot Hot Hot!

Focusing on tension, ramping up your specificity, using multiple senses, and removing filter words are all excellent techniques to increase your readers immersion.

“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” ― Maya Angelou

Now get out there! Get those words down. Get to writing, friend!

Tell me, when do you get immersed in a story? How are you ensuring your readers are immersing in your WIP?