Seeing With Your Eyes Closed

What you lose in blindness is the space around you, the place where you are, and without that you might not exist. You could be nowhere at all. - Barbara Kingsolver

I can't imagine being blind.

When I get up in the morning, I seldom turn the lights on until I'm ready to make my cup of coffee. For some reason, this morning as I walked downstairs -- feeling my way with the tip of my toes to know when the stairs stopped -- I thought about being blind.

Of all my senses, I would miss sight the most. What's worse is that a natural, human fear of the dark would be a problem all of the time. I have a vivid imagination (don't we all?) and this morning, I pictured someone ominous standing there watching me blindly fumble my way around the house, staying just out of reach but knowing that he could reach out at any time without my knowing of his presence.

Then I thought of all the other ways that I, as a blind person, could know he was there. Sound? Would I, with my sharper ears, hear his quiet movements? Smell? Could I smell is soap, his cologne, his fear?

It made me realize that I rely far too heavily upon sight in my writing, and don't utilize the other senses as much as I could. As much as I should. My scenes aren't as deep, my characters aren't as rounded.

As I write for NaNo, I want to make certain I utilize that ability. How does that person or place or thing sound? Smell? Taste? Feel? I plan on writing a note that reminds me I have more than one sense on my fluorescent Post-its and attaching it to my monitor.

And, periodically, I will write with my eyes closed.