When I write scenes on various planets I imagine what smells, sound, and feelings that world would have. Quirni would be so different from where I am now.
Right now I’m sitting outside at lunch. I hear the exhaust fans from the building, lawn mowers, a car idling, a woman talking loudly on her phone and I only hear her half of the fight. She speaks a different language, perhaps Italian.
There is a helicopter and a bus. In the background of all this noise, I hear a low whine, an electric hum.
The lawn mower’s fumes are dense even at a distance but it’s a warm, breezy day with sun and an occasional cooling cloud. It’s worth the noise.
Such a cacophony of sound and smells wouldn’t exist on Quirni. It would on Sirrus but that would be inside except for those fortunate enough to live in the green zone.
Quirni has the breeze rustling leaves, bird calls, the clip clop of horses and rolling creak of carts. If you ever heard one side of an argument on a phone call you are hearing a claimant or an SDD agent and had best not stick around to overhear more.
I hear digging now. That would be on any planet. Items being thrown into the metal bed of a truck, Marril or Sirrus.
Fresh air, Quirni.
Warm, humid, and hot, Marril.
The cloying damp and smell of oil, Sirrian tunnels.
When I find myself out of the story and wondering how to place myself back in the heads of my characters, I return to the smells, sounds, and feel of the place. Even if the next sentence doesn’t add to the storyline, it adds to the sense of there.
Quirni 
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