Plain, Simple Observation Writing
A Journalist’s Diary
I promised observations for this week’s writing post at the end of “Writing to Relax”. And today you’ll read about a peculiar tram scene that shows not all is lost for humanity. I’ll also write about sketching and a duo that caught my eye.
My thoughts about using observation writing for my short story endeavor, which I had planned to also write about today, will follow in two weeks.
Passing Support
“Excuse me, young man,” the elderly woman said calmly to the man sitting next to her in the tram that fought through the late afternoon city traffic. “Would you know,” she continued after receiving the man’s attention, “if this line goes to the main train station?”
The man, his phone in his hands, looked like he sorted the upcoming stops in his mind before replying that it was a bit more complicated than yes or no.
“The stop is called Kaiserplatz,” a woman in her forties injected from across the aisle, helping the man’s argument.
“You would then have to walk five minutes to reach the train station,” she explained.
The elderly woman nodded in response. “I see. So “Kaiserplatz,” you say? And how long until we’ll get there?”
The other woman had taken control of the support role, leaving the man a mildly interested listener. She estimated the remaining travel time to be 15 minutes.
“You see,” the reply was, “I’m meeting with a friend. She’s visiting from Düsseldorf, and I’m not familiar with Mülheim, but it’s easier for her, so we decided to meet at the train station. I’ve been under way for two hours already. Everything is delayed. If it takes this long, I’d better phone her.”
“If she’s arriving earlier,” the supportive woman said, “you can tell her to meet you at the tram stop. The city center is a nicer place to meet and all she has to do is walk through the mall. There’s an entry at the train station, and one of the exits is right around the corner of Kaiserplatz.”
The time between the next two traffic lights was spent figuring out how the pair could find each other. Just before my time onboard ended, the elderly lady had her phone ready to dial her friend.
“You’ll be here for a while longer?” she asked the helpful woman with a smile while preparing to dial.
The bored duo
Phones on a quiet train. Two of them, sitting in perfect symmetry, lined up along the train’s windows, but in such a way they couldn’t see each other.
One’s broadcasting a voice, male, at a low level. The other one is operated by the hands of a young black man, maybe in his twenties.
His look is calm. He wears a thick white hoodie under a black windbreaker. I see shiny black earbuds plugged into his ears. The white and black scheme continues with black jeans and white sneakers.
In the rare moments when the phone’s screen leaves his eyesight, the young man looks out of the window, calm and bored.
The phone in front, just like its unknown companion, faces away from the direction of travel. It rests in the hands of a white man who’s a few years older.
He sports short dark hair and a beard. The gray windbreaker contrasts with the black sweatpants of sorts. His gray Asics feature flashy orange accents.
The shoes, or rather the enclosed feet, dangle from his long legs, which he leisurely parked in the open space in front of his seat.
Similarly to the man behind him, he stares into the passing landscape at times, looking like he wishes for the ride to end.
It is his phone that broadcasts the male voice. It’s barely audible, but the audio is all he cares about. At times, he picks up the phone and holds the bottom edge to his right ear, ignoring the visual that accompanies the audio.
The sketch artist
I noticed the man before he started working. Standing near the doors of the train carriage, he stood out to me, sitting on his seat in the elevated four-seat compartment like it was a throne. I spotted burgundy cargo pants on his legs and big over-ear headphones on his head. He also wore glasses and a beard.
More prominently, his right hand featured two large rings, which formed figures of sorts. But if they were supposed to represent something or someone, then it was lost to me.
While I noticed him, he noticed another passenger who lurked in the compartment across the aisle. His look changed in an instant. His eyes suddenly sparked with interest, curiosity, and focus.
Seconds later, his left hand gripped a mechanical pencil, and a light orange A 6 sketchbook appeared in front of him.
He started sketching right away. Every few seconds, he carefully glanced across the aisle for a moment before losing himself in his sketchbook again.
His head bobbed to the rhythm of the music, which I imagine his headphones fed him. He appeared happy with his work process and continued to switch his attention between sketch book and subject.
That’s all the writing about writing for this week. While I worked with those entries, I realized that I must work through my observation journal more quickly. The longer I wait, the less texture I didn’t capture “in the moment” is missing, and the harder my hastily scribbled words are to decipher.
And while some of the texture and flavor of these three observations might not have survived the 4–6 weeks that passed since I recorded them, I still hope you found them interesting.
Next week, I’ll have a few words on journalistic inspiration and share a 1:1 Fun With Cameras experience.
