The Sensory Mind: When the Imaginary Becomes Tangible

A few days ago, I was watching a documentary about India. The journalist was filming a restaurant kitchen, showcasing various dishes and the spices they contained. A thick smoke swirled above the plates. Suddenly, for a second or two, I smelled the aromas of those dishes as if I were standing right there in the restaurant. My mind had managed to create a realistic scent from a simple image.

It reminded me of a rain scene I had written the previous week. Outside, it was hot and dry, yet I had clearly smelled petrichor, that characteristic scent exhaled by damp earth.

This kind of experience happens to me frequently when I write. This realization led me to wonder: what is actually happening in our brains when we imagine a scene or a character?

Smelling a scent while watching a video, hearing voices while writing, feeling the heat of an imaginary place... For some, and particularly for authors, imagination allows for a complete sensory experience that is almost tangible. This fascinating phenomenon actually has a scientific explanation, blending neuroscience, memory, and artistic creation.

Thanks to mental imagery, the brain is capable of recreating images, sounds, textures, temperatures, and even smells. These experiences are imaginary, yet they rely on the actual activation of cerebral zones involved in perception. In other words, imagining a scene is equivalent to perceiving it, at least in part. In some individuals, this capacity is particularly developed, making scenes so detailed they feel lived-in.

Smells are intimately linked to our memory. A familiar fragrance is often all it takes for memories and sensations to rush back to the surface. The brain is thus capable of reconstructing a scent based on past experiences. This mechanism explains why a cooking scene can conjure specific aromas; a simple image can be enough to make one "smell" a location.

Sometimes, the senses even intermingle. An image evokes a scent, a sound suggests a texture. This borders on synesthesia, though in the context of writing, it is usually a slightly different version. In this case, the senses are not permanently fused but rather interact more fluidly. Many authors describe an experience akin to an "internal film," where scenes unfold with incredible realism.

This state corresponds to what psychology calls flow. When this occurs, the author is "immersed" in their story, as if cut off from the outside world. The brain then brings forth complete and coherent scenes. This is sometimes referred to as "waking dreaming," with one essential difference: the author remains conscious and can intervene at any moment to modify what they see.

In this state, characters often seem to act autonomously. They make unexpected decisions, change the course of the story, and sometimes surprise their creator. There is a rational, scientific explanation for this: the brain constructs character models (traits, emotions, motivations), simulates their behavior in various situations, and generates coherent actions without a conscious decision. These "surprises" are the result of background processing—a form of collaboration between the conscious mind and intuition.

Our ability to "live" the scenes we write offers several major advantages. It allows us to share more realistic descriptions, creating stronger immersion for the reader. The author isn't just describing an imaginary scene; they are translating an internal experience into language.

While these phenomena can be-impressive, they are entirely normal during the creative process. They only become problematic if they escape our control (as with hallucinations). For an author, they are a true strength, reflecting the power of the imagination.

However, this immersion can be intense. After a writing session, most authors feel a sense of mental or emotional fatigue, much like the aftermath of a real-life experience. This happened to me quite recently while writing one of my novellas. Taking the time to gently "return to reality" is essential.

The human brain is capable of simulating reality with astonishing precision; science is now formal on this subject. For the author, this capacity becomes a tool. Writing is no longer just about inventing a story, but exploring an internal world where scenes emerge, evolve, and sometimes even surprise their creator.

Ultimately, science confirms what authors have long believed: imagination is a true sensory exploration, not just a projection of images. The brain allows us to cross the border between the imaginary and the lived, until the scents, sounds, and textures of the mind become as tangible as reality.

Writing then becomes a deep dive into a universe where we are simultaneously actors, screenwriters, and witnesses. In our internal worlds, imaginary petrichor feels as real as the rain.

Therein lies the true mystery of creation: our ability to summon complex universes from nothingness to better share them with our readers.

How about you? Have you ever smelled a scent or heard a sound while reading or writing?

—Gwen Geddes

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