A Writer's Guide to Active Setting (30 page)

BOOK: A Writer's Guide to Active Setting
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Mutt leaped to the seat of the snow machine as Kate thumbed the throttle and together they roared twenty-five miles over unplowed road to Niniltna, four miles past the village to the ghost town of Kanuyaq, and up the rutted, icy path to the Step. There, Kate dismounted, postholed through the snow to the door of the Park Service's headquarters, marched down the hall to Dan O'Brian's office, walked in without knocking, sat down without invitation, and said, “Now then. Would you mind repeating to me exactly what you told Ethan Int-Hout this morning?”

—Dana Stabenow,
A Fine and Bitter Snow

This book is the twelfth in the series, set in Alaska, with several set in this specific village. It's okay that the new reader doesn't yet have a lot of information about Kate's isolated cabin, a strong visual of the village of Niniltna, any idea of what's meant by “the Step,” or a description of the headquarters. The story starts with action—just look at the environment where a character has to travel by snowmobile for twenty-five miles to get somewhere, plus the snow is deep.

Because place is so important to this series, Stabenow spends more page space on Setting description later, feeding information to the reader through the perspective of a protagonist who loves the wilderness, the isolation, and the uniqueness that is Alaska. But she doesn't want to bore series readers with too much recap via narrative Setting description and familiar detail. If you attend a Stabenow reading you'll quickly realize that a lot of her fans read her stories not just for the mysteries but for the sense of place.

NOTE:
Assume your reader has never seen or been to the Setting in your story. Give them enough info to experience what you want them to, in the way you want them to experience it. The more unique it is, the more detail they might need. The earlier in the series, the more detail will be needed about reoccurring Setting.

Let's look at another example from Nevada Barr, known for writing Settings that become a strong character in her stories, even if the overall locations where the stories play out can change from story to story:

The Rambler's headlights caught a scrap of paper nailed to a tree, a handwritten sign: REPENT. Darkness swallowed it, and Anna was left with the feeling she was surely on the road to perdition. God knew it was dark enough. Her high beams clawed the grass on the left side of the narrow lane, plowing a furrow so green it looked unnatural: neon green, acid green.

At least it's in color, she thought sourly. Everything she knew—or imagined she did—about Mississippi had been gleaned from grainy black-and-white television footage of the civil rights movement in the sixties.

—Nevada Barr,
Deep South

Let's dig deeper into exactly what the author is doing by using Setting in the opening of this story, eight books into her series. This mystery author has a series of books with Park Ranger Anna Pigeon. Those who know and follow this character have to be quickly oriented into her world, and those who might have picked this up as the first Nevada Barr book they've read need a sense of who the character is, plus a strong anchoring element. So let's see how Barr accomplishes both goals for two different kinds of readers:

The Rambler's headlights caught a scrap of paper nailed to a tree, a handwritten sign: REPENT. [
A very specific detail that foreshadows the theme of the story and the type of place where the story is going to happen. Also the use of a specific car model gives a hint of the personality of the driver. The individual who drives a Rambler is different than one who drives a Jeep Wrangler or a Volvo station wagon. Just a hint.
] Darkness swallowed it, and Anna was left with the feeling she was surely on the road to perdition. [
Now we have internalization from the POV character that gives the reader a stronger sense of who she is by how she feels about this particular Setting.
] God knew it was dark enough. Her high beams clawed [
Great action verb—sets a tone very different than if she used a less expressive verb like swept, lighted, or exposed.
] the grass on the left side of the narrow lane, plowing a furrow so green it looked unnatural: neon green, acid green. [
Again, more subtle internalization that lets the reader know the POV character is not necessarily comfortable with this much vegetation. Those readers who follow the series already know that Anna has spent much of her career in the West and more specifically the dry desert land of the Southwest. The reader doesn't need that much backstory here, but they do need a sense of her response to what she's seeing.
]

At least it's in color, she thought sourly. [
The reader now knows exactly how the character feels—the author showed this by Anna's internalization about the intensity and variations of the color of grass, something the average person doesn't think about if they see grass on a daily basis.
] Everything she knew—or imagined she did—about Mississippi had been gleaned from grainy black-and-white television footage of the civil rights movement in the sixties. [
And only here is the reader cued in about her emotional response to the Setting as a negative impression—the reader is shown the Setting, then told how Anna feels about it by being focused on very specific images and word choices. The reader also gets a sense of backstory of the POV character by what she watched on television as a child.
]

Here's another example from this same author. Different Setting, but still a quick and clear sense is given to the reader that the location matters to the story. It's not the river itself that matters, but the river as a metaphor for the life of this iconic city. The example also reveals that this place is not where the POV character grew up as well as showing how she feels about her new environment. See how the author weaves in the time of day and year without being specific about the place. That comes two paragraphs after this, but a careful reader can guess by noting key words long before the town's name is ever used.

Old Man River. What a crock, Anna thought as she sat on a bench on the levee, the April sun already powerful enough to warm the faux wood slats beneath her back and thighs. The Mississippi was so unquestionably female, the great mother, a blowsy, fecund, fertile juggernaut that nurtured and destroyed with the same sublime indifference.

Rivers were paltry things where Anna had grown up, fierce only when they flash-flooded. Compared to the Mississippi their occasional rampages seemed merely the peevish snits of adolescence.

—Nevada Barr,
Burn

Let's look at one last example to contrast to the last two. Tony Hillerman's name as an author is synonymous with the Southwest, a very different environment than the two previous examples from Barr. Hillerman weaves the Setting in on every page to make it clear to the reader that, in his series, the world of the Southwest and the land of the Navajo and Hopi are intrinsic to the stories. In this early passage from
The Wailing Wind
, a secondary character, who is a member of the Navajo Tribal police, orients readers to where the story is happening and shows them how tied she is to the land by her response to her Setting.

She [Bernie] sat on a sandstone slab in a mixed growth of aspen and spruce … facing north to take advantage of the view. Pastora Peak and the Carrizo Mountains blocked off the Colorado Rockies. And the Lukachuki Forest around her closed off Utah's peaks. But an infinity of New Mexico's empty corner spread below her, and to the left lay the northern half of Arizona. This immensity, dappled with cloud shadows and punctuated with assorted mountain peaks, was enough to lift the human spirit. At least it did for Bernie.

—Tony Hillerman,
The Wailing Wind

The point to keep in mind is, if you are writing a story, or a series where the Setting is its own personality and character, you can get away with more chunks of description because the reader wants to be well anchored, not just in the story issues—the mystery, romance, suspense, etc.—but also in the world of the story.

What Not to Do

Don't assume your reader knows your Setting as well as you know it. Below are some modified examples of Setting descriptions gathered from newer writers over the years to give you an idea of the pitfalls of assuming anything.

It was one of those West Texas sunsets.

Now, if you know West Texas well, have traveled through it, or the sunset was described earlier in your story, this might mean something. But without any of the above, the Setting description shows nothing, especially if you don't know Texas.

He went down to Livingston Avenue.

And down means what? South? Down a hill? How far is down? Again, not enough information for the reader to experience this Setting or know that it matters.

He stood on his porch, looking at the beautiful scenery before him, at the lake in the distance and beyond it, the mountain.

Can you as a reader tell what the POV character is seeing? What is meant by beautiful scenery? Or a lake? Is this Lake Michigan, Lake Tahoe, or Lake Ladoga? What kind of mountain is in the distance? Stone Mountain in Georgia is very different than Mount Washington in New Hampshire and nothing like Mount Rushmore, or Denali in Alaska. Did you guess correctly that this story was happening in Colorado? If you didn't, don't worry—very few readers could have guessed the location.

NOTE:
Give the reader enough specific detail to paint the image they need to have in order to understand your character and your story, especially if the Setting is a character itself.

Assignment

This should be an easy assignment, but it will involve a little sleuthing. Find either a stand-alone story or a series where the Setting is a character within the story. It should be a novel where the story has to play out in a particular location, because if you moved the characters into another Setting, they would lose a lot of what impacts them.

Read the story once for enjoyment, so that later you can ignore the temptation of getting lost in the story. When you revisit it, try to pull apart how the author makes the Setting its own character. Grab a highlighter to highlight the specific Setting descriptions, so the Setting information will jump out at you and read it again.

Highlight how and when the Setting is first introduced, how often the Setting plays a key role in the story, and how the author shows the reader interacting with the Setting. What types of details are revealed about the Setting and how are they shown on the page? If the story is part of a series, examine how the author introduces Setting information that you already know versus new information. Look at word, sentence, and paragraph allocation.

Then revisit your own work to see how your Setting can be enhanced.

Recap
  • You'll know if a Setting is a character in your story by the need for your character to interact within that specific Setting versus any other Setting.
  • If you are writing a series where readers have some knowledge of your story Setting based on earlier novels, go lightly on what you've already revealed to the reader. Then expand on an element or elements of the Setting she needs to know for this particular book in the series.
  • Be specific with your details and how your characters interact with your Setting from your primary story characters. Let their interaction with the Setting, whether from a previous novel or as a new character in the series, reveal information to the reader both about themselves and the world of the story.
Chapter 10
Devil in the Setting Details

By now you should have stopped thinking of Setting as simply a way to show the reader location. Instead, think of Setting as a rich medium to use showing, not telling, to anchor the reader into the passage of time or change of place in your story, to act as its own character if the reader expects that, and, above all, to draw the reader deeper into
your
story.

Depending on the genre you're writing, the Setting details can be minimal or everything to the story. Science fiction and fantasy writers are known for their worldbuilding, creating universes populated with exotic new places and the people who inhabit them. In these genres, Setting is pivotal. Think Hogwarts in the Harry Potter stories, Middle Earth in Tolkien's Lord of the Rings series, or the world of the Hunger Games series by Suzanne Collins. Other novels can be streamlined. Harlan Coben's stand-alone thrillers tend to be minimalistic in locations—his characters are someplace in New Jersey—but the settings have more to do with creating an environment of an ordinary man as opposed to the sense that these stories
must
happen in a particular location.

The secret is to keep in mind your target audience when you're writing and be aware of the intention of your Setting. How do you figure this out? I hope you read what you write. I say that because I'm always surprised when working with writers on their manuscripts and I ask them, “What types of books are you reading?” or “What books in this genre have you read in the last year?” Often I hear, “Oh, I'm too busy to read.” Or worse, they mention that the only books they have read were published ten or twenty years ago, and there was a very different pacing sensibility then. To understand what I mean, watch a TV show––even one from a series that you love––from ten or twenty years ago and see if it's easy to sit through the whole hour without wanting the story to speed up!

In the following example, the author uses a number of the techniques we've looked at closely in this book.

A mile behind us, some local bar. Lonely way station. Out in the middle of nowhere, just a shed, neon lights shaped like a naked woman flickering on and off through the dirty-tinted glass. Nipples winking. Pickup trucks in the narrow, shoveled, salted lot. Scents of fried food and burned engine oil in my nostrils.

—Marjorie M. Liu,
The Iron Hunt

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