How to Use Sound to Make Your Novel Stand Out In A Sea of Noise
By Marcy Kennedy (@MarcyKennedy)
If you’re limiting yourself to just naming a sound, you’re missing out on the richness that the sense of sound could bring to your fiction. You’re speaking to your reader in a monotone.
Next to sight, sound is the most commonly used sense in fiction, but three techniques can help you change the sounds you use from plain background noise into something that adds new depth to your stories.
Use Onomatopoeia for an Echo
Onomatopoeia is when a word sounds like its definition—hiss, buzz, creak, swish, clatter.
The blade scraped across his stubble.
If you’ve ever listened to a man shave using a razor rather than an electric trimmer, scrape imitates the sound you’ll hear with each swipe.
Another poetry technique worth judiciously stealing is the repetition of sounds within words to mimic the sound you’re describing. One of the best known examples is from the final lines of Tennyson’s “Come Down, O Maid.”
The moan of doves in immemorial elms
And murmur of innumerable bees.
A morning dove’s call at a quiet summer’s twilight carries the same long o sound as moan, and the sequence of m’s and n’s followed by the zee sound in bees creates a buzz like a swarm.
Because most of us vocalize in our minds when we read, onomatopoeic words and phrases help us hear the sound you’re describing. (Speed readers are trained to stop this internal vocalization because it slows reading speed, but it’s also one of the things that helps make reading so pleasurable.)
Don’t overuse this technique. Not everyone likes it. Personally, used frugally at moments when you really need to emphasize a sound, I love it. (And so does Janice Hardy, former instructor for Writer’s Digest, so I’m in good company.)
Play With the Emotional Effects of Sound Deprivation or Sounds We Can’t Control
Using the sense of sound effectively in fiction isn’t all about the type of sound. Sometimes it’s about the lack of sound, the volume, the duration, or whether we have any control over the sound.
When the power goes out in your house at night, do you sleep through it or does the sudden loss of the white noise of the appliances wake you up? Do you find the loss peaceful or, after a while, does the silence become almost oppressive and ominous?
Scientists have studied the effects of sensory deprivation on the human body, and discovered a short period of sensory deprivation, like being underwater, can be relaxing. Over extended periods of time, though, it can lead to hallucinations, decreased memory function, and loss of identity, which is why it’s used as “white torture.” If you place your character in a situation where they can’t hear, they’re likely to be disoriented at first, feeling almost like their ears are clogged. If you place them alone for a long period of time somewhere like the wilds of Utah in winter, the silence will begin to play tricks with their mind.
If we have the ability to make a sound stop, we’re more able to tolerate it than if we have to endure it with no knowledge of when it might end. While our body eventually learns to ignore soft noises like the ticking of a clock in the background, louder noises or noises intended to motivate us to action can’t be tuned out in the same way. In my last truck, the parking break broke, but I didn’t realize it until I’d set it for a ferry ride, and the warning ding kept going after I released it. I had to drive over an hour with no way to make it stop. The sound never bothered me before, but by the end of that drive, I was tense and irritable and fighting a headache.
Let Sound Set the Mood
They don’t call it mood music for nothing. Your choice of sounds can alter the whole feel of a scene, so choose carefully to create the mood you want your reader to feel. If you want to lighten a scene, add a funny or embarrassing sound to a somber or romantic moment.
One of my favorite lines from my co-writer in our historical fantasy is when our female lead’s closest friend says to her, “The wind carries the voices of the dead tonight.” It highlighted not only the grief they shared but couldn’t speak of, but also their dread and uncertainty over what they’d face the next day.
What sound annoys you most? And which do you find most soothing?
Interested in more ways to improve your writing? Grammar for Fiction Writers is now available from Amazon, Kobo, or Smashwords. (You might also be interested in checking out Showing and Telling in Fiction
or Dialogue: A Busy Writer’s Guide
.)
All three books are available in print and ebook forms.
Enter your email below to receive updates next time I post here because you don’t want to miss the final sense! If you missed the previous posts, you can find the three techniques for smell, taste, and touch here.
Photo Credit: Peter Mazurek (Obtained via www.sxc.hu)
Jul 12, 2012 @ 12:14:53
Interesting to find this topic today as I’ve been working on using sound to better effect in my last novel edit. One particular sound I’m finding hard to describe is the sort you hear (or perhaps becomes more apparent) just after it has stopped raining.
It’s not so much a sound as what seems to be clarity of all sounds, like breaking the surface of the sea or pool, muted noise changes to clear and crisp.
In order to describe it I waited, longed actually, for a good downpour then spent considerable time walking up and down our gravel driveway, listening intently to the crunch underfoot, the sound of cars in the distance and birds in trees. The effect seemed to wear off after about 10 minutes, perhaps because I grew accustomed to the new acoustics but for a while it really did sound different.
Any further investigation will have to wait for another bout of heavy rain as I’m sure my neighbours will wonder why I keep walking up and down the driveway with my head cocked to one side!
Jul 12, 2012 @ 18:09:00
I think that’s the sign of a good writer. I’ve gone through You Tube videos looking for sounds I knew I wouldn’t find in my normal life (like the sounds a bull whip makes). Our neighbors might wonder about us, but our readers will thank us 🙂
Jul 12, 2012 @ 14:02:27
Hi Marcy –
Your series on using all the senses in writing has been useful for my writing, especially today’s post. Ever since going to Girl Scout week-long camping, camping with friends, then as a wilderness trip guide in western Massachusetts during a summer in university, I love the sound of rain in the words, especially a steady fall on the leaves. During our down time, I loved being in our big tents, sliding into slippery sleeping bags listening to the rain as I read (or fell asleep)! But Marcy, for the life of me right now, I can’t access y describe what rain falling on leaves (when I’m in the woods) sounds like? I can almost hear it, but when I begin to write it I have no words!
The sound of nails on chalkboard – KCRRRRREEEEECKKK!! – I hate to even think about it. Styrofoam rubbing together is similar but less harsh.
Next time it rains, I’ll have to go out to my woods & be attentive with just my ears & then come up with a way to write how rain sounds when it falls on leaves.
Monique
@moniqueliddle
Jul 12, 2012 @ 21:02:32
It’s strange how even sounds we should know perfectly can sometimes escape us. I had that problem with birds calls I was trying to describe a few weeks ago. They were ones I heard every evening, but I had to wait and sit and listen because when I tried to pull them from my memory I just couldn’t do it. I’ve heard about writers who keep their own personal sensory journal. I’ve thought about doing that so I have some of them at my fingertips when I need them.
Jul 12, 2012 @ 14:45:27
Great post, Marcy. I’m enjoying these tips to adding richness to the fiction.
Jul 12, 2012 @ 15:12:07
Thanks 🙂 I’m glad they’re helping.
Jul 12, 2012 @ 14:55:37
Dear Marcy,
My critique partner and I have had some laughs over our tendency to overemphasize one sense over the others. She is more auditory, and I am more visual. So, thanks for the “sound” pointers in this post!
Jul 12, 2012 @ 15:05:02
Great topic, Marcy. I’m loving your series on the senses. This is kind of cliche, but the sound I can’t stand is nails on a chalkboard. Literally makes me gag. And chills for sure.
Thanks for the great tips!
Jul 12, 2012 @ 15:11:47
I have a real issue with something very similar. You know those mornings where the snow squeaks when you walk on it? I cringe and my teeth start to hurt – I hate it that much.
Jul 12, 2012 @ 16:22:18
When I was in school, I had to explicate a TON of Catullus’ poetry (in the Latin). He used a lot of the onomatopoeic methods – which I always thought was super cool.
Jul 12, 2012 @ 21:06:05
I was first introduced to onomatopoeia in my first year university English class. I’ve been hooked ever since 🙂
Jul 13, 2012 @ 14:18:36
What a fabulous post and great insight/things to keep in mind. The sense that I tend to most often neglect isn’t sound; it’s usually smell, for some reason. Any olfactory suggestions :-)?
I must really practice the art of onomatopoeia; it’s definitely not easy to do and requires some serious, serious thought.
Jul 14, 2012 @ 03:17:39
What a wonderful post Marcy! I truly enjoyed they way you explain the use of sound in fiction. I love to play with words and the sound of words and how they play together. I like to use the sense of sound in my writing and music to set the tone or bring back a memory. I am bookmarking this post. It’s really useful. Thanks Marcy! I hope you’re catching your breathe. 🙂
Jul 15, 2012 @ 18:30:26
Margie Lawson calls this cadence and i believe in it wholeheartedly. 🙂
Jul 16, 2012 @ 18:57:27
Great post, Marcy! I live the sound of rain and thunder, and borderline hate the sound of sports on TV. 😉
Jul 21, 2012 @ 01:47:24
Oddly I’m fond of nails on a chalk board. One year in highschool some friends of mine played Dungeons and Dragons after class in one of the rooms, and when people got too side tracked with the latest gossip/what was playing in the theatres, the DM would nod to me, and I would rake my nails across the board to get everyone’s attention.
Recently I found that I can’t stand hearing people’s voices when I’m stressed. I signed up for a caving/spelunkering class and was perfectly fine wiggling through the tight confines or setting in the pitch black…unless I could hear the other people in the class. ’twas a strange experience, but one I am looking forward to putting into paper.