All terms

What is synaesthesia?

A condition in which one sensory experience triggers sensations in another, such as hearing colors or tasting words.

Exploring the Senses: Synaesthesia in Creative Writing

Synaesthesia is a fascinating phenomenon that has captivated writers and poets alike for centuries. At its core, it refers to the crossing of sensory boundaries, so that one kind of sensation triggers another. It might mean, for example, that a certain sound is always associated with a certain color, or that a particular taste is accompanied by a specific tactile sensation.

As a writer, synaesthesia can be a powerful tool for creating richer, more sensory descriptions. By blending different senses together in unexpected ways, you can create vivid and memorable images that stick with your reader. Whether you're writing poetry or prose, adding a touch of synaesthesia can make your work stand out.

Of course, it's important to wield this tool carefully. Too much synaesthesia can quickly become overwhelming, confusing the reader and detracting from the overall impact of your work. As with any literary device, it's all about finding the right balance for your particular piece.

Synaesthesia in Literature: Examining Two Classic Examples
Here are two examples of synaesthesia used in classic works of literature and how they add to the sensory experience of the text.
The Sound of the Sea Bell by Yukio Mishima

In this short story, Mishima uses synaesthesia to describe the experience of hearing a bell ringing across the sea: 'Somewhere in the midst of that expanse, the sound of the bell rang out, clear and cold as a drop of dew. It seemed less sound than resonance: a vibration in the air which roused some far-off memory in me of a spirit that had once burned with a bright flame'.

Ode to a Nightingale by John Keats

Keats's famous poem is full of rich sensory detail, including a number of instances of synaesthesia. In one stanza, he writes: 'Already with thee! tender is the night, / And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, / Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays; / But here there is no light, / Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown / Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways'.