Discover Details through Observation Writing
A Journalist’s Diary
I shared the first batch of train observations two weeks ago and promised thoughts on using observation writing for my short story writing. I’ll make good on that promise below, sandwiched between two more train observations that feature running shoes and more phones.
The running shoes
I’m a runner. But I’m not all that nerdy when it comes to running shoes. When I traveled to Kupferdreh for a winter photo walk, however, running shoes were all I could think about once I noticed two young men in black boarding the train halfway through my journey.
The bouncy Invincible 3s on the feet of one of the lads jumped at me immediately.
I’ve not yet run that model (a bit too expensive for my taste). They are made of Nike’s super foam called ZoomX, which also features in the company’s marathon racing shoes that have taken over the running world in recent years. I enjoyed this foam, however, in a different model. That was one of my favorite shoes to date.
Back to the train, though.
The shoes nervously tap the floor, never resting for more than a few seconds. Curious, I thought, are you a runner, sir?
The rest of his appearance hints at an active lifestyle. The black cargo pants blend into his dark persona. His thin black jacket includes three prominent white stripes that travel the length of the sleeves and hint at another large sports brand. A black baseball cap crowns the all-black dress code, which is disrupted only by the grayish Invincibles.
The two men look like brothers, the running shoe guy a touch younger. Maybe in their early twenties, both have short dark hair and light beards. Their skin tone puts their heritage somewhere in the Middle East.
But the older brother sports a bit more color on his clothes. His cargo pants are an olive drab. His sports shoes are from yet a different brand and feature every color of the rainbow in a wild mix. They are not running shoes, however. I know that much.
They don’t talk much, have their phones in hand, and occasionally glance at the screens. Apart from that, there is only silence on the calm train.
The shoe tapping draws my eyes like a magnet. I don’t know why. While the announcement of the next train stop cuts through the quiet air, I follow them on their way to the exit. Whether the shoes will ever be used for running is a detail I’ll never know.
Observe the details
It doesn’t take much searching to find article after article about observation writing and what it can do for one’s writing.
I like the practice analogy that opens this Writer’s Digest article. I’ve never seen it like that, but if I look at how I employed my observation journal since being introduced to the concept during my Yale summer practice describes it perfectly.
The observation sessions in and around New Haven that summer started as assignments but quickly became a fun way to play, to take in life around me and write it down as descriptively as I could — without thinking about it too much.
It’s that practice that made me understand what Natalie Goldberg means with bone writing. It’s what made me fall in love with writing when all I had known before was the stringing together of dry academic sentences.
Another read about the practice you may consider is this list of tips for improving your observational skills by writer David Sedaris.
It begins with how I’ve been introduced to the craft: keeping a journal, a dedicated place for your exercises. But Sedaris goes much deeper than that and speaks to the uncomfortable pleasures that are necessities for being a good listener (which is a prerequisite for so many things in life, including writing, photography, and journalism) — being comfortable with observing life (or eavesdropping) and engaging with strangers.
When I sat down for the last writing session for my long-in-the-making short story pleasure project, I wanted to draw from my observation writing practices.
The prompt for the session was three simple words: the zone assignment.
But those three words meant I could use observation or eavesdropping mode as Jake was locked into a room with a new character.
I closed my eyes for a moment, imagined the confined space, the elevated heart rate of an uncomfortable situation, and let the details come to me, just as I would approach any old eavesdropping practice in the real world.
The new character, who shall remain anonymous for the time being, was maintaining his fancy laser pistole, which materialized on the page one colorful detail at a time, from its smooth and elegant bird-of-prey-like shape (not the Klingon ship, just the aggressive general nature of such an animal) and its three-piece design to mysterious crimson insignia and a titanium grip that was tailored to fit the three-fingered hands of the species that invented the device.
I discovered more details as the session unfolded, from a stealth-black ring that serves as a communications device and sensory bridge to the commanders of the wearer, who’s clearly in a military structure, to his charcoal eyes that glow in amber when adrenalin levels rise.
I was delighted when the alarm signaled the end of my allotted writing time. Even though I had only written about one A 4 page, those 20 minutes marked lots of detailed progress.
The phone eater
He doesn’t waste any time making himself comfortable on the train.
A man of considerable size in his later 40s unpacks his backpack, producing a soda can first and a plastic-wrapped croissant next. While he rummages through his bag, I see an e-reader on the small tray below the window. A charging cable travels to the bag and vanishes in its main cavity.
He wears a light-blue soft-shell jacket, blue jeans, and low-cut brown hiking boots. He’s short-haired and has a remarkably unremarkable face. What stands out the most is his jacket and the circular shape it forms around the man’s belly.
Done with his set-up, the bag travels to the ground, and the man starts reading.
But he isn’t very focused and stops to pick up the blue soda can, which he then cracks open to take a first sip.
After glancing at the screen for a few seconds, he stops again and squeezes the plastic wrapper between his hands. It pops and allows the heavily processed pastry to emerge.
It takes no more than two bites before it’s gone again.
But wait a moment. It’s not an e-reader he’s handling in between sipping his sugary drink and snacking on his equally sugary treat. It’s a rather large phone, which he now holds sideways.
While I try to take in his surroundings, which include a skinny man, maybe 10 years his senior who sits on the opposite side of the four-seat compartment, I notice a second shiny wrapper appearing.
It’s a quiet ride. The eyes of the slimmer figure, who appears incurious to the activities in front of him, travel across the pages of a supermarket brochure as the rustling of the second croissant wrapper cuts through the quiet air.
That marks the end of my excursion into observation territory. I hope you found the journey valuable. I hope to collect new observations soon, not to mention the progress I hope to make with Jake and his adventures.
I’ll update you on training progress next week and can tease you (hopefully) with the announcement that I’ve found a promising workout spot. If things go to plan, I’ll also have a journalism-related post ready.
