Let it play out at night.

To create the right atmosphere, you need to trigger the reader’s senses differently than for a daytime scene. In this post, I’ll show you the techniques professional fiction authors use.

Use different senses. In the dark or semi-dark, your PoV character will see less than in bright light, so use the sense of vision less and the other senses more.

The sense of hearing is especially important. Insert several background noises, such as:

Outside, a car door slammed and a motor whined.
From the kitchen came the persistent drip-drop-drip of a leaking tap.
Water gurgled down the drainpipe.
Wind whispered through the branches and rustled the leaves.
Rain hammered on the window panes.

Insert sentences of this kind especially in moments of tense silence. They can help increase the suspense.

In the evening, most people’s sense of smell heightens, so you may want to mention the scents and odours of the place and the

characters. However, this awareness lessens in the early morning hours. The temperature also affects the sense of smell – during a balmy night, the characters will notice more smells than if it’s cold.

Here are examples:

The rain sharpened the smells of smoke and earth.
He smelled of cigarettes and stale sweat.
She reeked of whisky and resentment.
Her scent was sweet, fruity, reminding him of the aroma of a freshly sliced peach.
The alley stank of rotting vegetables and piss.
From the entrance came the enticing smells of pizza and fried fish.

Any lights, whether nearby or faraway, will be noticeable at night, so mention lights. Here are some ideas for outdoor night scenes:

– car headlights
– street lamps (a row of them or a single one)
– lit windows in houses
– the glowing tip of a cigarette
– the stars (unless the sky is cloudy)
– neon advertising signs
– the moon (full, waxing, waning, crescent, gibbous?)
– a campfire
– lanterns
– torches
– the hazy cloud of light above a distant city
– any appliances in use (a tablet, a mobile phone)

Describe the colour, quality and movement of the light. Use your full creativity to come up with original, atmospheric descriptions.

Here are some examples to inspire your own ideas:

Stars winked like sequins on a dark velvet gown.
Torches waved their yellow flames in the gloom.
The light of the lantern shuddered in the darkness.
The silvery sheet of the lake’s surface darkened and lightened with every passing of a cloud.
Beams of light burst into the moonless night.
A pair of headlights sliced through the darkness.
The street lamps cast their sulphurous glow on the wet asphalt.
If the characters are indoors, your scene may be well-lit… but you can still show the source and quality of the light:

The overhead strip lights flickered to life.
The lamp cast its smoky light on the carpet.
The light bulb cast a pale glow, leaving the corners in shadow.
She relaxed in the generous glow of the clustered candles.
The log in the crate spluttered and fell apart, throwing orange sparks.

Artificial light affects how objects and people look. Candlelight tends to flatter the complexion, while white bulbs and neon tubes emphasise every wrinkle, blemish and scar. Use this effect in your descriptions.

To create a night-time atmosphere for your scene, also consider showing drawn curtains, or having your characters draw them against the approaching darkness.

If the scene takes place outdoors, show the weather and the temperature, the way your point-of-view character experiences them:

The night chill seeped through her jacket.
He tightened his hood and marched onwards through the battering storm.
Slivers of hail stung my cheeks.
Raindrops made needle streaks in the light of the street lamps.

Fear, danger, anxiety, uncertainty, are increased in the dark. By emphasising the darkness, you can create suspense and fear.

If you want to frighten your readers, give the point-of-view character light to see by at the beginning of the scene… and then take it away.

Here are some ideas how to achieve this:

– One by one, the candles burn down.
– The wind blows out the lantern.
– Rain extinguishes the campfire, or the character runs out of wood to burn.
– A power cut drops the whole house into darkness.
– The battery runs out.

Try the effect of diminishing light for any scary or creepy scene in your novel. Your readers will shiver with delighted fear.

Beginner writers often fail to create a convincing night-time experience because they don’t use the senses enough. Remember to use the senses of hearing, touch, smell and temperature, as well as other senses, such as taste, if relevant to the context.

ASSIGNMENTS

Do you want to put the theory into practice? Here are two projects for you.

1. Go out at night—perhaps to a place that resembles a location in your WiP, or somewhere bizarre. If you dare, or walk through a rough neighbourhood or visit the local graveyard at night. Stay safe! Best take your dog or an understanding friend. If you don’t want to leave your home after dark, your own back garden can yield interesting material, or you can simply throw a window open and lean out to listen, look and smell. Absorb the lights, sounds and odours of the place. Collect as many observations as possible and write them down, for use in a future story.

2. Imagine the location of your night scene. What smells might the PoV character notice? What noises can be heard in the background? Where does the light come from, and what’s its colour, strength and effect? How does the ground feel underfoot? Write at least five sentences about the setting – as many of them as possible about a sense other than seeing – and sprinkle them throughout your scene.

LEAVING CERT ENGLISH DESCRIPTIVE ESSAY: NIGHT Scene

The cold steel door handle sends a shiver down my spine as I pull it down slowly. (One sentence in the author managed to send a pretty powerful message to the reader: "I am creating a narrative with aesthetic description that appeals to the senses and aims to relate to the reader - and lastly, can I have a H1?" I sure hope so! From this point on, I am reading this essay as if I am watching an ice skater doing impossible tricks, going for the gold medal - and clenching my fists in hopes that they don't slip. A strong opening is one of the best ways to get the examiner on your side.) The dark mahogany door opens with a deep, echoing creak and I feel a trickle of sweat on my forehead. (Suspense and tension = elements of the language of narration.) I slip through, opening the door to a minimal distance and taking care to close it gently behind me. I rub my hands together for warmth as the dark cold night beckons me to start shivering. I inhale and exhale deeply and heavy clouds of mist form as my warm breath meets the cold air. I can taste the coldness in my mouth and I start sweating to warm up. (Well, this last bit doesn't make sense because you only sweat to lose heat - but luckily, this isn't a physiology exam. The rest of this essay is pure description and nothing really happens in it. Few people have the talent of writing so descriptively about something as uneventful as a walk in a forest. The introduction with the door handle, trying to avoid being heard and sweating in suspense sets the scene of a Bond film, so reading about snails and moths for seven paragraphs is a little disheartening. I would rewrite the introduction so that it prepares the reader for the actual body of the essay. Still, this is a brilliant essay.)

My eyes catch the scattered night-time drops of dew as they are illuminated by the pale light of the moon. They shine, like a million eyes staring back at me from the dark green hue of the hedges. Among the bushes, a spider builds a silken web. Precisely and carefully, the spider leaps from each leaf of the thick hedge, constructing its intricate trap. ("Its" used correctly! More brownie points.) The moon hides behind a patch of greyish, navy clouds. Its light breaks through the wispy clouds, penetrating their dark cover. The sky is freckled with brilliant, glowing stars. Their intensity contrasts against the sombre blue of the night sky,and warmth begins to fill me again as I take in this magnificent sight.

Reaching for my torch, I press my thumb into its switch and it turns on with a click. I start walking, my feet crunching the autumn leaves that lay on the moist ground. The brilliant reds, oranges, yellows and browns I saw this morning have changed into sombre blues and dark greens. (Excellent!) It seems their warmth in colour has succumbed to the chill of the autumn night. (We know, don't spell it out too much.) My flashlight reveals a lone snail making its way across the leaves. It moves without seeming to move at all, taking its time. It leaves behinds a slimy trail of mucus as it goes, which catches the yellow light of my flashlight. I am startled by the sudden loud barking of a dog – my neighbour’s hound. This low growl is then followed by a chorus of other dogs in the suburb, as if in a dog choir. I hear the slow crescendo of an oncoming car. As it gets closer, I hear the crisp traction of its tyres with the black tarmac of the road. It zooms by with a flash of white, blinding light and the splash of a puddle.

I continue walking, basking in the now eerie silence of the suburbs. The thin layers of ice on the pathway crackle under the rubber soles of my shoes. In the distance, a lamppost glows amber. As I approach it, I see a moth fluttering round the light source. It incessantly crashes into the bulb with a faint *dink* each time. A gentle breeze hits me from behind, setting me on my way again. The breeze continues, whistling in my ears and causing nearby trees and bushes to sway idyllically. I think of my childhood, when I thought the dark did not harvest any life. Night-time was a period of nothingness, in which nature went to sleep. I feel glad that I was disillusioned at this age, glad to be able to observe the life and light in the dark of the night.

I point my flashlight on a sign, which reads: ‘Grenwich Forest’. Following the gravelly paths, my shoes make a gritty sound due to the myriad loose pebbles beneath them. The path grows ever mossier as I venture further into the forest. The air changes – it is now damper, but fresher. I take in a deep breath of fresh air, filling my lungs with the natural oxygen of my surroundings. An abrupt hoot beckons my head to look in the direction of a nearby tawny owl. Its intense round eyes seem to me to be almost belligerent, and my grip on the flashlight tightens. As I begin my effort to lurk by this magnificent beast, it takes flight. Its wings stretch into a feathery mass of whites, beige and browns. It flies off into the forest with a dull flapping sound that dies off after a while.

I take a gulp of the forest air through my nostrils. I smell the vibrant smell of green plants, of autumnal foliage, of colourful flowers. Looking up, I observe the light of the pale moon as it slithers between the tops of the forest’s trees. It transforms their dull, dark leaves into a majestic glowing green. The path has now faded into fully overgrown moss and dew-dappled grass. My shoes now squelch on the wet ground and with each step, I seem to be sinking deeper into the dirt. The moon has moved higher into the sky now and I knew it would be time to go home soon.

All of a sudden, I see a large illumination of light to my right. Curious, I trod through the overgrowth towards the source to look upon quite a striking sight: this collection of light is actually many little fireflies swarming together. I am awe-struck at their magic quality; how do they manage to capture that light? They flutter around - in their hundreds – leaving a glowing trail of light after them. Each insect is as magnificent as the next, flying in harmony alongside each other in the eerie silence of the night.

I venture back home, with a briskness to my gait. The moon is nearly at the end of its tenure in the sky, and the myriad sounds of cars tells me I need to get home quickly. I glance into the windshield of one woman as she is waiting in the early morning traffic. She has dark rings of fatigue around her eyes open in puffed slits of redness. Yawning, she takes a sip of what I presume is a warm, caffeinated drink. My own fatigue weighs down on me as I feel my muscles struggle to do my bidding. My stride becomes erratic, due to my sudden lethargy and I struggle to keep my eyes open. One deep inhale of the clear dawn air gives me enough fuel to make it to the door of my house. Faced with the same dilemma as before, I open the door at a snail’s pace, anticipating the dull creek, and shut it behind me in a similar fashion. I wipe any evidence of the night into the thick, brown bristles of the doormat. Taking off my tattered shoes, I slink stealthily up the stairs in an effort to avoid detection.

Once in bed, my eyes succumb to weariness and close heavily. I dream of the night life just moments away.

I received an email a few weeks back looking for clarification on desciptive essays. Specifically, what different approaches can students take when writing a descriptive essay?

When it came up as an option on Leaving Cert paper 1 recently, the marking scheme stated that students could adopt a “narrative or discursive approach“. Confusion often arises here because when we think “narrative” we think story – plot, characters, setting. And when we think “discursive” we think argument, opinion…

I’ve tried to tease out the ways personal essays, descriptive essays and short stories are related yet distinct in the past, with some limited success. Truth is, the ties that bind them are stronger than any scissors which seeks to cut them apart but with so many marks going for “clarity of purpose” [this includes responding to the topic as well as writing within the specified genre] it’s not surprising that both teachers and students seek clarity on what exactly defines each genre.

Here’s a graphic I created for this very purpose, which first appeared in the 2015 Irish Independent Written Word Supplement. You’ll notice that description forms the trunk, or backbone, and feeds into all three.

Looking through a different lens this time, becuase of the email I received, I would say that a narrative descriptive essay has a lot in common with the short story and a discursive descriptive essay has more in common with the personal essay.

If a student or a teacher wanted a definition, I’d say:
Descriptive essay with narrative approach = descriptive in style, with a story to tell.
Descriptive essay with discursive approach = descriptive in style, with an issue to discuss.

Here are a few descriptive essays taking a narrative approach (I wrote the first one; junior cycle students wrote the other two):

However, a descriptive essay can also take a discursive approach, where the language is descriptive but an issue is also being discussed and the thoughts, opinions, knowledge and understanding of the writer come into play.

Have a look at this example which is extremely descriptive (it uses metaphor throughout) but which is also discussing an issue – bullying: http://leavingcertenglish.net/2014/03/abcs-of-bullying/

Well, when an issue is being discussed it’s discursive [all paper two essays are discursive] but a writer can achieve wonderful aesthetic effects, and really engage the reader, if they combine discussion and description.

For me, it helps to remind myself that the boundaries between genres are fluid, and as long as a student embraces some elements of description if asked to write a descriptive essay, they won’t be penalised for the approach they take.

You might also want to take a look at this essay I wrote: http://leavingcertenglish.net/2011/05/ict-in-education-conference/

It’s a perfect example of the fluidity of genres.

It begins with a poem [hence, aesthetic use of language]
It goes on to discuss an event and an issue – use of ICT in education [hence, discursive]
It takes a descriptive approach throughout [using lists and metaphors and moment by moment description]
It ends by linking to a personal story – the death of my friend [hence, a personal essay with a narrative thread holding it together].

I just thought I’d post my reply to this query, as coming up with an answer really got me thinking in depth about how fluid the boundaries between genres can sometimes be… that’s not a bad thing, but it does make assessing with genre as one of the criteria that bit trickier. To my mind, as long as it’s clear that the student is controlling their use of genre conventions, rather than being oblivious to genre, then they should be ok. On the other hand, if a student comes across as having no awareness of genre, audience and register, that’s where problems arise…