Writer’s Shop Talk: Reunion: A Fragrant Journey Through Time

What is your protagonist’s main trigger (a plot device which causes flashbacks, insightful internal dialogue, etc.)? Is it a certain smell, certain song?

When I wrote the first draft of Reunion: A Story in the fall of 1998, I didn’t have any “how to write fiction” books nor a textbook from my creative writing course at Miami-Dade Community College (now Miami-Dade College). As far as I can recall, we students in Prof. David Schroeder’s CRW-2001 course were taught many aspects of writing fiction, but I don’t remember “triggers” being mentioned in any lectures. (Of course, a decade passed between my taking CRW-2001 and the writing of the novella, so it’s possible it was discussed and I forgot about it.)

So believe me when I say that when I wrote the dream sequence introducing Martina Elizabeth Reynaud – Jim Garraty’s high school crush and the catalyst for the Reunion Duology – I wasn’t thinking about “triggers” as a literary device when I noted her favorite perfume had a scent that blended jasmine and orange blossoms. Instead, I was focusing on another concept that Prof. Schroeder talked about extensively: “concrete details” that make a story come alive in the reader’s mind.

This is how I introduced Marty in Reunion: A Story almost 27 years ago:

I am sitting alone in my old English classroom at my old desk, reading from Shakespeare’s Macbeth. The only sounds in the room are the ticking of the clock and the occasional rustling of the pages of the book. Then, Martina Reynaud, the most beautiful girl in the Class of ’83, walks in. She’s tall, graceful, and absolutely breathtaking. She’s wearing a black dress, one that shows off her long dancer’s legs. Her peaches-and-cream complexion is flawless; there is no sign of a pimple anywhere. Her long chestnut hair cascades down over her shoulders. In short, she is the personification of feminine elegance from the top of her head to her high-heeled shoes.

I try to get back to my reading assignment, but the scent of her perfume, a mixture of jasmine and orange blossoms, is beguiling. I look to my right; she is sitting at the desk right next to mine. She gives me a smile. My heart skips a beat. I know guys who would kill for one of Marty’s smiles. Her smile is full of genuine warmth and affection; I can tell by the look in her hazel eyes.

For me, the perfume was just one of those concrete details I had learned about in my creative writing class, as well as from reading fiction throughout my life. Along with Marty’s black dress, long dancer’s legs, and flowing chestnut hair, it was simply a part of the narrative. It wasn’t consciously intended to be a trigger of any kind, especially since I viewed Reunion: A Story as a standalone piece.

That changed in March 2023 when I started writing Reunion: Coda’s first “Present Day” chapter and introduced Maddie, the “leading lady” in Prof. Jim Garraty’s life:

I glance at the bottle of Heineken in my hand, feeling the chill of the condensation on my fingers. It’s a new nightclub, and I’m curious to see what it’s like. I’m not here to hook up, but I wouldn’t mind some company. Maybe someone who shares my passion for history. Someone who appreciates the stories behind the facts. Someone who can make me laugh and think at the same time.

That’s when I hear her voice. “Excuse me,” she says, “is this seat taken?”

Her accent is refined and elegant, like a cross between FDR and a British aristocrat. I swivel around and there she is, clutching a bag stuffed with books from Book Culture—that quaint little bookstore on Broadway. Her hair is the color of caramel, cascading in loose waves that brush her shoulders with a gentle grace. Her hazel eyes, framed by arched brows, are windows to her soul, expressive and vibrant. They catch the club’s dim lights, reflecting a spectrum of warm colors. Her heart-shaped face is turned slightly, the soft contours of her cheeks tapering to a delicate chin, giving her an air of approachability. Her lips, reminiscent of a Gibson girl’s, hold a promise of a smile that could light up the darkest corners of any room. She’s wearing a sky-blue dress that hugs her curves in all the right places. She’s breathtaking.

And she’s a complete stranger.

But something about her reminds me of someone I used to know.

As she steps closer, I catch a whiff of her perfume – jasmine and orange blossom – delicate and exotic yet somehow familiar. That scent…I remember it from…South Miami?

Here, of course, I craftily deploy a sensory detail – the tantalizing scent of Maddie’s perfume – to spark an emotional trigger for Jim. Although I didn’t know the exact term then, the effect was unmistakable.

The scent’s success as a trigger lies in its ability to conjure up strong memories and emotions, thanks to the close connection between smell and the brain’s limbic system. What started as a simple detail in the story transforms into a meaningful symbol of connection and nostalgia. It effortlessly links Jim’s past and present, bringing a rush of familiarity that enriches the narrative and deepens the emotional bond with the characters. In this way, the perfume goes beyond just being a descriptive element, becoming a delightful spark for personal reflection and growth.