It’s true what your high school English teacher told you – “show it, don’t tell it.”
She wanted you to finger paint the details of the story, rather than just telling us exactly how everyone looked or felt. She wanted you to craft images so that we could run our imagination over them and braille our way into your story.
What did that day feel like? How was the weather? What were you wearing. Spend a paragraph describing your shoes, so that we can walk around in them.
Don’t tell us it was a big dog or a fast dog or a brown dog.
Tell us how the sand spit up under that racing dog’s paws. Tell us how he shimmered chocolate in the sun. Tell us how his haunches bowed over the work of all animals – this tremendous impulse to use every muscle without thought, without plan with only the free falling love of being alive.
Tell us how the beach was a backdrop for the glory of God in that moment when two dogs raced the dusk hour and reminded us that life is set by more than clocks.
Write with all five senses.
Give us the flavor of the day, the moment, the memory. The more details you weave into your story the easier it is for us to relate. Because now we’re right there with you. On that hard packed sandy beach with a breeze that feels more like an old friend than a reason to tie hair up in a ponytail.
Slow down and remember. Then write – like you’re serving a five course meal. So that we can savor every delicious word of your story.
Want to give it a try? Leave me a comment describing any memory you have from the beach.
::
::
“On that hard packed sandy beach with a breeze that feels more like an old friend than a reason to tie hair up in a ponytail.”
Oh that line! Yes!
To me the beach is an old friend.
The beach is big enough.
It can swallow every emotion, every memory, every worry.
And like the smooth rocks skipped between waves I can toss my feelings out one by one. And he meets me there. God, who is bigger even than the shimmering horizon. The roar of water and rush of wind in my ears whispers his goodness. He says, “I got this.”
I can return home with cheeks aglow and a heart renewed.
I love that! Beautiful! Wraps me in the words like a warm, comfy sweater!
Lovely!
With the invitation to enjoy a taste of mid-summer in early spring, my husband and I were not about to let the whining of the urgent drown out the whisper of the important.
We packed up our gear and headed east, and within the hour we were parked on the beach, side by side, bare toes in the warm sand.
Reveling in temperatures normally reserved for July, we settled into our comfy chairs and closed our eyes. We dozed off to the whooshing heartbeat of the waves as the soft breeze brushed the unseasonably warm sun from our faces.
When we awoke, we strolled, hearts and hands entwined, along the length of the beach, more than a mile each way from jetty to stone jetty, dropping our cares along the way like so many pebbles in the sand.
Absolutely beautiful! I’m refreshed just reading it. “the whooshing heartbeat of the waves”…love that!
Thanks, Jennifer! It came from a real visit to the ocean here in New England this past April-an absolutely unheard of event. I was so taken by the day-the refreshment, the reenergizing, the opportunity to truly drop our cares like pebbles on the sand-I just had to write a post about it. I have no doubt every single blogger reading this is nodding their head in agreement, having been in similar situations themselves. :-)
The ocean breathed, a slow hiss as the wave inhaled, drawn back into itself, a sharp exhale as the next salty wave reached its arc and crashed on to the sandy beach where I sat, breathing in the rhythm.
Wonderful post, will copy this for my writer’s files. Yesterday I read some of Writing to Change the World by Mary Pipher. She said “…it’s not the detail itself but the meaning of the detail that is important.” You are on the same page! Good words, thank you.
Oh I love the breath imagery! Well said! :)
Thank you. I was sitting on the sand, soaking up the beauty, the space, the sounds, trying to figure out why the ocean makes me feel so peaceful. That’s when I heard the breathing, like the drone of a snoozing beast. A striking detail I vividly remember.
In 26 years, it had never happened. Feet sinking into the straw color of beach. I had flown over oceans, crossed continents, rafted rivers…yet I’d never stood on horizon’s cusp. Never rocked body in waves. Never introduced virgin toes to salty waters.
Then they took me. Feigned kidnapping, two friends. Husband and wife. Who’d already painted my existence in a new state, a new home, a new coast in open-armed welcome. In East Coast hospitality and so much beyond.
Everything is cooler in the ocean’s breath. Donning shorts, flip flops, sweatshirts – we tumble out of SUV, trek through sparse population in the pre-summer rush. Rays bathe our faces. Seagulls declare territory, yet greet us nonetheless.
I let every sodium scent, temperature flux, three-dimensional image – I give it all leave to seep past my skin, into my bones. The first time bit and infected and bored into my being. This Texas girl, transplanted to the Coast, and somehow found home there too.
All because of two friends, and adventure, crashing rocks, fingers in sand memorializing the moment…all because of love and beauty.
Wonderful!! As a native AZ gal, I totally get it!
Thank you! Haha, you DO understand! :)
My face burned from the lashing it took. The combination of salted wind and wet hair whipped wild in a gale is a deadly one. Tears ran down our cheeks, but we did not cry. I would be surprised later not to see literal whip-stipes on my cheeks.
The jackets that in the car seemed to smother us now felt non existent. I wrapped my arms tight around my waist to see if my coat was, in fact, still there and not ripped off by the torrent of an Irish “breeze.” Woolen hats scratched our foreheads and niggled names of necks yet brought the comfort of a dry head. Well, mostly dry.
Noses, red and dripping, threatened revolt with each sting of cold. Fingers, numb and stinging, protest by refusing to follow the simplest of commands.
And yet we build. We dig and drip sand, wet and freezing, into tower upon tower. By day’s end a total of fifteen castles would litter the shore. It was our first day of spring in Ireland and we spent in glorious agony on the beach. Together. Comrades in simultaneous misery and paradise.
We are really here. We are really doing this. And we celebrated with a castle. Or ten.
Sorry for the typos….
What beautiful adventure!! My eyes were instantly invited in to your pictures. Well spoken! That land is a dream of mine to visit one day. Very jealous. :)
“and we celebrated with a castle. Or ten” – oh my. oh my – this – so much vivid gorgeous in-the-moment feeling here. Love it so much.
Aw, thank you!!!
Oh I love this idea and I can’t help but want to write something :)
My growing belly is not quite big enough to tell yet but we have a secret to share. I watch my brown haired boy laugh and splash and kick up the sand as he races to meet the waves that are rising against the shore. My heart is as full as the sun shining down on all of us. My eyes travel to the striped beach chairs dug in the sand, one of them holds my father-in-law wrapped in a book. And I smile. My mother-in law sits just a few feet away sculpting the moist glistening sand and I watch her wipe her brow with the back of her arm as to not get sand in her eyes. They already carry our secret but we are ready to tell the world. I look over at my husband with a wink as I bend down to draw in the sand. “Click” he presses the record button. I begin. With the little camera rolling my heart bubbles with happiness and joy as I reveal to the world that there is life inside my still small belly. It reads, Baby DiIanni, with a heart wrapped around the sand drawn letters. And I can’t stop smiling. The tall grass sways in the breeze and I gather up under the umbrella with a good book to fill my afternoon.
A memory from announcing the pregnancy of my now 18 month old
and a big ol’ lump wells up in my throat because I remember that kind of bubble of joy so much. such vivid feeling pictures here. thank you thank you for sharing.
It was four years ago, we arrived in Oah’u after an 8-hr flight from Atlanta. I hadn’t slept at all the whole time, too excited. We were met at the Honolulu Airport with beautiful leis of fresh fragrant orchids that I wore around my neck everyday I was there. We boarded our transport coach to the Hawaiian Village Resort where we were staying. Although tired from the long travel, we were advised to observe the time change and to stay up until what would be our bedtime if we were home. We arrived at the Resort early evening, checked in, dropped our things in our room and immediately walked down to Waikiki Beach. We rolled up the legs of our pants and put our feet in the cool ocean waters, letting the waves ripple through our toes and fingers as we picked up beautiful seashells, listening to the gentle roar of the waves, enjoying the night air, and soaking in the blessing of a dream … we were in Hawaii to celebrate our 30th Wedding Anniversary. Dreams do come true. *Q
http://www.simplyphenomenal.wordperss.com
Happy Anniversary! I’ve been to that resort. Loved it!
When I am at the beach, I take in the smell of the ocean, breeze, and air. You can sense the smell from miles away and know exactly where you are headed! The sand feels like soft foam beneath my bare feet and the ocean feels like a cool breeze hitting my feet! I can hear now the sounds of the waves dancing at sea and the seagulls singing their beautiful song in the sky. Sometimes I sit or walk and wonder about the lives of all those other beach goers, who are walking along the same sand as I. Why did they come?? Are they escaping life? Are they here for their kids?? Do they know the POWER of Almighty God as they view the vastness of the ocean. It takes my breath away to think about how our Creator God has made ALL the ocean, sand, sky, clouds, etc. The vastness and eternity of the sea is amazing and I stand in awe of The One Who created it all! And He created all of these things for our enjoyment! Wow! What a good God we serve!!!!
“you can sense the smell from miles away”
yes yes yes.
Her name was Grace and she softened my insecurities with her smile. As I walked barefoot across the sand toward her, the record played repeat in my head, “Look at my beautiful baby, don’t look at me, I got fat.” My daughter, diaper mushed against my hearty hip, did all the talking with her twinkling eyes, and Grace twinkled back, the buffer that kept me from sinking. I never wanted to return there looking like this, a body haunted in the city of angels.
I haven’t been able to get this out of my head since I first read it. I want to know the rest of this story. I want you to write it. This love song to what grace and new babies can do for us.
ah, Lisa-Jo, my how you can paint with words…here goes, my attempt:
I wore a coral, white and blue tankini underneath my pale blue fleece and old khaki shorts. We adjusted the umbrella, and set up shop on the hard sand along Lake Tahoe. I smiled as our girl quickly went towards the sand with a shovel and a bucket. She was determined to build a sand castle. The air was still and quiet in the morning. Most people were probably still curled up in bed. A slight breeze kissed my face as the sun came close and touched our bodies like a light coverup.
The water shimmered surreal like a cerulean dancer decked out in diamonds. A rising peace enveloped my soul.
Oooohhhh that last line especially…chills of lovely! Way to go Dolly. :)
The wind blows the sand and my dress lifts a bit too much. We stroll along looking at the waves crashing on the cliffs and I slip off my flip flops in order to feel the sand between my toes and wade into the white foam. Nothing is more beautiful to me than walking on the beach.
I had never met them in real life before. The three of them had but I only knew them from our online encounters. I happened to be traveling through so we made a plan to gather. I felt certain we’d connect face to face as well.
We unloaded our things into the cabin, shared a meal, laughter and more.
We meandered our way down to the shore on the east side of Lake Michigan. We wandered a little in our own directions, taking in the air, staring at the waves as they would slap against the shore, then calm again and soaking in the God painted view. Soon we gathered toes in the sand near each other…captured it-click, then retreated to the rocks, wind in our faces to share more of our hearts and our lives….
We labored over the signs. Poster board covered with magic marker in eight and nine year old scrawls. It had to be perfect for our annual beach photo. Goodbye old year, hello, new.
We woke up to a cooler day than usual, but Daddy was not to be deterred; it was HIS tradition, after all. Jackets over swimsuits, we piled in the car.
On arrival, only Daddy wanted to get out of the car. “It’s just the wind on this side of the dunes. It’ll be better over there.” We grudgingly left our last bit of comfort because what else could we do? It was tradition!
Salty air, waves crash furiously. The wind, colder than it had been the entire previous year. Bone chilling, hair tangling, fierce. These Florida jackets are not enough. Daddy, get the camera out already! Look, we’re all freezing, we’re all miserable, are you happy yet? Oh, good, the camera snapped! Let’s go!
*I grew up in Florida near the beach. Every year on New Years Day, we’d go to the beach to take pictures. One year, it was so cold. Only my dad wanted to go, but after much arguing from everyone (my mom included), we humored him and went. If was one of the most miserable family experiences we’ve ever had. One of the most memorable, too!
your dad sounds a lot like mine :)
In the past two week I have not read a blog that touched my love of writing in such way that I want to run everyone out of the house so that I can exhale, then write. Thank you for reminding us how to breathe.
such a great way to put it – these descriptions made me want to run out and take great big gulps of literature and then start writing my heart out!
It wasn’t the right time of year for the beach. Overcast with a biting wind, the back half of winter. But this mid-western girl had never seen an ocean or a beach like this. And the sailor with his burgeoning family made the first stop in their new home this beach… The God Who can create such beauty inland surely had something in store for us that day. Gazing out to sea with heavy coats drawn tight around all but mom, whose coat won’t button over her six month pregnant womb, we stand in awe as we take in the vastness of the ocean. Curling tight around each other, wrapping arms around the son yet to be born, long blond hair wrapping around her three year old nose, red with the cold, we delight for a few short breaths before dashing back to the warmth of the car and the reality of setting up house.
“Slow down and remember. Then write – like you’re serving a five course meal. So that we can savor every delicious word of your story.” :) This made me smile.
This year’s summer holiday holds many precious memories of family fun on the beach. My three children rediscovering the pleasure of adventures in the sand and the sea. Our new family dog digging excitedly, in ecstasy over the potential of endless sand! My fun-loving husband splashing in the ice-cold sea with the kids squealing with sheer delight! Whilst I languorously laze on my deckchair enjoying the indulgence of relaxing with a book with the warm sun deliciously embracing my face and the feel of the cool sand as my toes burrow down. Happy days!
OK these descriptions kind of gut-punched with their awesomeness. I read each one as they popped up and just closed my eyes each time and let myself sink into your unique view of the beach and the ocean and that glorious memory. Thank you thank you all this loveliness.