A Writer's Guide to Active Setting (21 page)

FIRST DRAFT:
Alice sat on her porch and thought about how unhappy she was.

Not much there. No Setting to give us a feel for this story, where it's happening or when. So let's try again:

SECOND DRAFT:
Alice sat on her Kentucky porch. She was very unhappy.

Now we have a general location but the rest is telling. Plus, there's a world of difference between a porch on a home in the Lexington horse country, and one on the Appalachian hill area, along the Ohio River, or in an urban Louisville neighborhood. So let's see how Kingsolver uses Setting to bring the reader deep into the story from her character's POV, while also giving a strong sense of time of year.

In the record heat of this particular Kentucky spring the peonies have blown open their globes a month ahead of Memorial Day. Their face-powder scent reminds her of old women she knew in childhood, and the graveyard. She stops swinging a minute to listen: a huffling sound is coming from the garden. Hester Biddle's pigs. Hester lives a short walk down the road and has taken up raising Vietnamese miniature potbellied pigs for a new lease on life after her stroke. She claims they're worth two thousand per pig, but Alice can't imagine on what market. They're ugly as sin and run away for a hobby, to root in Alice's peony beds.

—Barbara Kingsolver,
Pigs in Heaven

Kingsolver gives the reader a clear sense of season and place. But she also foreshadows a growing emotional disconnect between the character and where she was in her life by key phrases—
old women she knew in childhood
,
the graveyard
,
for a new lease on life
. Kingsolver uses these references from the POV character's impressions to show the reader the character feels herself aging.

We also experienced some fresh sensory details. Can you smell the flowers and hear the pigs? You are not only in a specific place at a specific time of year, but are experiencing that Setting from Alice's thoughts and worldview. It's much stronger than simply writing a few lines of description of this hardscrabble farm.

Here's another example where the author orients both the POV character and the reader, early in the story. This is from a mystery series by Nevada Barr that features a park ranger who moves from one national park to another, so the author not only wants to anchor new readers to the series, but also remind existing readers that this specific Setting is being seen for the first time by the protagonist as well.

Before we jump to this passage, though, let's again imagine that the author has a first draft version that needs some work. Something such as:

FIRST DRAFT:
She was swimming in the waters off the Florida Keys.

Pretty ho-hum. As a reader we know where she is, but there's not much to engage us in such a way that, if we have never been to this part of the world, makes it memorable. She's simply in some water in some place.

SECOND DRAFT:
She was swimming in the blue-green, warm waters off the Florida Keys, near enough to her new duty station to see Garden Key.

A little more orientation and thus anchoring. We might have a stronger sense of where in the Keys we are, even if we don't know the area, but we don't have a hint that this Setting matters to the story.

Barr's use of specific details in the opening of her story makes it clear to the reader that this Setting is a key part of her story world. With that information the reader can care about where the character is, as opposed to a generic ocean Setting that the character is soon going to leave. If you are not specific in how you've set up the world of your story, the reader can't experience it as you intended.

NOTE:
If you are not intentional with the Setting specifics that you give your reader, they won't see what you see.

Let's observe how Nevada Barr anchors the reader at the opening of her story:

The sky was as blue as the eye-watering fishes and every bit as merciless as the sea. The ocean was calm. Even with her chin barely above the surface she could see for miles. There was remarkably little to soothe the eye between the unrelenting glare of sea and sky. To the north was Garden Key, a scrap of sand no more than thirteen acres in total and, at its highest point, a few meters above sea level. Covering the key, two of its sides spilling out into the water, was the most bizarre duty station at which she had served.

—Nevada Barr,
Flashback

Let's examine her anchoring more closely:

The sky was as blue as the eye-watering fishes and every bit as merciless as the sea. [
This line gives the reader a specific visual image, which also evokes a specific emotional feel given the word choices.
] The ocean was calm. Even with her chin barely above the surface she could see for miles. [
Now the reader has more visual images that will come into play later in the story when the character is trapped underwater in this same area. The reader will know it's isolated.
] There was remarkably little to soothe the eye between the unrelenting glare of sea and sky. To the north was Garden Key, a scrap of sand no more than thirteen acres in total and, at its highest point, a few meters above sea level. [
Here the author is very specific—and even if you don't know where Garden Key is on a map, you're starting to get a sense of this empty, flat Setting with a landmass that's not very large.
] Covering the key, two of its sides spilling out into the water, was the most bizarre duty station at which she had served. [
This last line reminds readers of the other locations in her mystery series without stopping the forward momentum of this current story. It also anchors the reader to where this character is now.
]

NOTE:
Anchoring the reader when you are writing in deep POV means that Setting is seen through that character's interpretation and emotional state, her background, and her past and current experiences. It's not a generic, omniscient view from an all-knowing author.

What do you learn about the POV character and his world in the next passage? Is the character familiar with the location? How does the character feel about the location? About the world of the story?

May in Ayemenem is a hot, brooding month. The days are long and humid. The river shrinks and black crows gorge on bright mangoes in still, dust green trees. Red bananas ripen. Jackfruits burst. Dissolute bluebottles hum vacuously in the fruity air.

—Arundhati Roy,
The God of Small Things

Pulling apart this short but powerful Setting description, let's pay particular attention to how the reader is anchored into the world of the character and his relationship to a specific place.

May in Ayemenem [
Here we have a specific name of a specific place, but that's not enough by itself, unless this location is very well known to most readers. If this was London, Calcutta, or San Francisco, the reader might have some image of the Setting, but it may not be the image the author wants them to experience.
] is a hot, brooding month. [
Compound description here. The author did not stop with the word
hot
, but added a very specific emotional word to describe what the character feels about the heat.
] The days are long and humid. [
Now we're getting enough detail, including sensory detail, to feel the quality of the heat in this location.
] The river shrinks [
A visual most readers might not associate with heat, or associate only with a dry heat.
] and black crows gorge on bright mangoes [
Great, specific visual here: a power verb—
gorge
—combined with the black of crows against the brightness of mangoes spells out a more exotic spin on the location.
] in still, dust green trees. [
Nice contrast here so the reader sees the black birds gorging against not only green trees, which one would expect in a humid climate, but still trees, coated in dust. This is another sensory detail that can be felt, seen, and for some readers, even tasted
.] Red bananas ripen. Jackfruits burst. Dissolute bluebottles hum vacuously in the fruity air. [
And here three images create three beats. The first beat is ripening red bananas, not yellow. Second beat, the bursting of jackfruits. The average reader might not even know what a jackfruit is, but the powerful verb—bursting—helps create an image. Third beat are the flies, not just any flies but bluebottle flies, and are described as both dissolute and humming vacuously, all which leads to the last sensory detail: the scent of that humid, hot air—
fruity
.
]

There are enough specific, intentionally crafted details layered through this Setting description that, even if the reader has no idea where Ayemenem is, or if it really exists, they can experience it and are present with the POV character.

Now let's look at an example by author Meg Gardiner, who uses deeper POV and Setting to anchor the reader to the passage of time within the story. This information is threaded in at the beginning. Here the chapter opens with subtle clues to let the reader know
where
and
when
the new character is without stopping the action and forward momentum of the story. See if you can pick out the anchoring cues before we analyze this passage more closely:

Later, Seth remembered cold air and red light streaking the western sky, music in his ears, and his own hard breathing. Later, he understood, and the understanding stuck in his memory like a thorn. He never heard them coming.

The trail through Golden Gate Park was rutted and he was riding with his earbuds in, tunes cranked high. His guitar was in a backpack case slung around his shoulders. Crimson sunset strobed between the eucalyptus trees. When he reached Kennedy Drive, he jumped the curb, crossed the road, and aimed his bike into the shortcut through the woods. He was a quarter mile from home.

—Meg Gardiner,
The Memory Collector

Can you tell which city you're in by the name of that well-known park? Can you tell the time of day by the temperature and light—or a hint of the time before the author cues you into the exact time with a key word? Do you get a sense of where this individual is in relation to where he wants to go? Are there any sensory details that paint a stronger image?

Just a few key sentences, but the reader is there, in the skin of the character, Seth. The reader doesn't yet know how this event relates to other events that will be happening in San Francisco, but Gardiner uses Setting to anchor and orient the reader as to time and place. She also uses the contrast of place—Seth heading home—with something that happened to him. Let's pull apart this Setting for all the juicy insights it can teach us:

Later, Seth remembered cold air and red light streaking the western sky, music in his ears, and his own hard breathing. [
The reader is clear here that something is about to happen that will impact Seth, so it's important to know a hint of the build-up to what's currently happening to this person. We have sensory details here that indicate possible time of year and time of day—cold doesn't always happen in the winter; it could be a cooler summer, or late spring, or early fall when evening comes.
] Later, he understood, and the understanding stuck in his memory like a thorn. He never heard them coming.

The trail through Golden Gate Park [
Iconic name that sets the location as San Francisco. If the author said Central Park, or the Everglades, the reader would know which city or area of the country the story is set in. If the author used a generic name like Marshall or Liberty Park, the reader would have no idea where the story is unfolding.
] was rutted and he was riding with his earbuds in, tunes cranked high. [
More sensory detail.
] His guitar was in a backpack case slung around his shoulders. Crimson sunset [
One specific word—
sunset
—paired with a color visual to anchor the reader as to the time of day.
] strobed [
Action verb.
] between the eucalyptus trees. [
Specific foliage that again indicates California to those familiar with it. Even to those who are not familiar, you're not seeing cedar, or pine, or oak trees.
] When he reached Kennedy Drive, he jumped the curb, crossed the road, and aimed his bike into the shortcut through the woods. He was a quarter mile from home. [
By ending on this one word—a word that for most usually means security—the author uses Setting as a contrast to whatever has happened and raises a strong story question: Who stopped him from reaching home and where is he if he never made it?
]

NOTE:
Weave Setting
whens
and
wheres
with dialogue or action details to keep from slowing the forward momentum of your story.

For another example, let's look at how mystery author Walter Mosley uses time-of-day changes to anchor the reader more deeply into his story. Mosley's Setting example is a hundred pages into his book,
Cinnamon Kiss
, and at the opening of a new chapter. Note how the author uses deeper POV and Setting to quickly clue in the reader to the passage of time since the last chapter, explain where the POV character is, and give a hint of backstory through Setting—all of which gives readers a wonderful emotional check-in. Also note the use of sensory details. As if that's not enough, Mosley then ends on a clear contrast between the Setting and what the character is facing to remind the reader of the overall story goal. A lot is happening in one power-packed paragraph.

I ate a very late lunch at a stand-up fried clam booth on Fisherman's Wharf. It was beautiful there. The smell of the ocean and the fish market reminded me of Galveston when I was a boy. At any other time in my life those few scraps of fried flour over chewy clam flesh would have been soothing. But I didn't want to feel good until I knew that Feather was going to be okay. She and Jesus were all that I had left.

—Walter Mosley,
Cinnamon Kiss

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