The setting is a true chameleon when it comes to accommodating whatever the writer needs it to do: characterize, reinforce mood, reveal backstory, add symbolism, or provide conflict. As you can imagine, any storytelling element that so greatly influences events comes with a few common snags to watch out for.
With any type of description, pacing is important, and this goes double for any detail involving the setting. Too little description, and the reader is flung into a scene without being properly grounded; too much description will steamroll the action flat. Understanding which setting location is the perfect match for each scene is really the key step, as it helps us circumvent so many problems, including the three biggies: boring, flat, and confusing settings.
Putting Readers to Sleep: Avoiding Boring Settings
We’ve all heard the saying, “This is about as much fun as watching paint dry.” Well the literary equivalent when it comes to settings is going overboard by describing each detail to the point that readers cannot wait for something—anything—to happen. Here are some of the biggest contributors to a setting that begs to be skipped.
Overdescribing: Priming readers for the action in a scene requires some evocative setting details to set the stage, add or release tension, reinforce mood, or symbolize something significant. However, it’s a slippery slope that develops when a writer moves from combining a few carefully selected details to bloating up pages with a rainstorm of description. It’s easy for writers to get caught up in the current of detailing the world they’ve built, but readers should fill in some blanks for themselves too—otherwise the story will never be finished.
To avoid overdescribing, we need to be selective with our details. To help with this, imagine the setting as a character. Describing her height, weight, eye color, and hairstyle as she waits for her name to be called in an interview is not compelling because it doesn’t tell us anything beyond her physical appearance. Instead, a writer should choose details that help to characterize and show emotion, such as her constant tugging at ill-fitting dress clothes, the tightness in her body posture, and the way she rubs at her chest as if massaging out a deep pain. These details give readers a glimpse inside the character’s anxiety as well providing a brief outline of her outer image.
With the setting, we need to apply these same principles, doing more with less. To make sure your setting adds something beyond priming the stage, try using a setting checklist (Appendix B). This can help you plan each scene’s location in light of what it can accomplish to further your story.
Purple Prose: Similar to overdescribing is purple prose, which results when we get so caught up in making our description stand out that our writing becomes overrun with sensory images, metaphors, and flowery phrases. If we find ourselves describing the petal of a forget-me-not as winter-ice azure instead of light blue, or we compare a sunrise cresting a mountain range to the glorious fire-crown of a queen on her throne, we’ve gone to the purple side.
Language is our bread and butter, and commanding a strong vocabulary while understanding how to utilize figures of speech is important. But if we overdo it, readers only see the words and not the fiction. We never want to break the storytelling spell, so sometimes this means killing our darlings. If a turn of phrase sounds achingly beautiful but doesn’t further the story, it needs to go to the description graveyard.
Getting Too Technical: Some locations have a lot going on, and they require a bit more time to show, such as alien planets, tech-heavy or virtual environments, or a mazelike battleground where enemies meet. For these types of areas, the success or failure of the scene will depend on our ability to show the unusual setting well enough to anchor readers in the unfamiliar place.
Sometimes our attempt to help readers fully picture a foreign setting results in us getting bogged down in the technical details, breaking things down piece by piece, which stalls the pace. As with a gun, readers don’t need to know every bolt and pin to understand what it does. With difficult settings, think about how to bring out the bigger details by drawing on comparisons readers are familiar with. Then add refining details that evoke a certain mood, facilitate backstory, or utilize a different aspect of multifaceted description. By giving readers enough rope, they will be able to pull themselves along and see the scene without sacrificing story movement.
Backstory Whirlpools: Earlier we looked at just how effective the setting can be as a vehicle for introducing natural backstory as it applies to the events of a scene. While the setting is a true goldmine for helping to reveal deeper story meaning through characterization and backstory, we have to take care not to get caught in the past either. To avoid being dragged into a backstory whirlpool, adopt a “get in and get out” mentality when it comes to showing the past through description or flashbacks. The setting is a trigger; as such, it should do its job quickly and effectively. Only show backstory that is critical to a particular scene, giving readers context for a character’s behavior and thoughts or to better understand the stakes involved. Often it can be helpful to choose a sensory detail that acts as a gateway to the present: a sound that ties in to what’s happening in the current scene, a smell that draws the character back to the now, or even a texture that snaps the connection to a past moment.
Setting as an Island: The anatomy of a scene is like the workings of a cuckoo clock; it takes many cogs, pins, and weights to keep everything moving and functioning as it should. Anything that stops this process greatly damages the effectiveness of the writing, and often what freezes the machinery of a scene is singling out the setting description.
Stopping the story to specifically point out setting details will create a disruption in the flow that feels out of place, especially if it goes on too long. Instead we should treat the setting as a casing that holds everything together—the outer wrapping that cocoons all the storytelling elements into an organized, cohesive unit. Then, with this in mind, we can lace together our setting description so seamlessly, it’s hard to tell where it begins or ends.
The car slowed, its headlights splashing across the dewy grass and the pale siding of the neighbor’s house. Donovan’s breath froze as he crouched, the manicured hedge scratching his skin and plucking at his clothes. The deep rumble of Eric’s Charger thrummed in Donovan’s chest. He cringed, waiting for the motor to cut, for the door to squeal open. His brother’s best friend must have seen him crossing the pedestrian bridge, but Donovan was sure he’d lost him in the maze of houses and yards. Yet, here he was. Eric and his odd smile had always left Donovan uneasy, not to mention how he kept showing up at the strangest of times.
Seconds dragged by, cold seeping through the knees of his jeans where they pressed into the damp soil. He prayed that his pursuer would go away, but Eric never forgot a debt. It didn’t matter that the debt belonged to Donovan’s dead brother, or that he was nothing like his twin. At best, Eric would hound him until he agreed to settle accounts. At worst, he’d end up in the reservoir like his brother.
Were you able to imagine what was happening in the scene above, including the “why” behind the character’s actions and emotions as he interacted with the setting? I hope so. Describing the setting as the action unfolds is so much more involving than sidestepping the events taking place to focus on setting details alone. Just as they do in this scene, the cogs of sensory detail, emotion, contextual backstory, and tension should work together, enhancing the plot rather than taking away from it.
As Far as the Eye Can See: Avoiding Flat Settings
On the other side of this problematic coin is flat settings, caused by overly lean or lackluster descriptions. This particular issue is one that is caused by a multitude of reasons.
Ho-hum Settings: Not to flog a dead horse, but with the huge selection of incredible books out there, there’s no room for standard-issue. This goes for plot, characters, and, yes, even settings. Whichever location we choose for our scene to take place, we want to make sure our stamp, our unique vision, is working to make the world vivid and believable.
Even if we choose a setting that seems to be in almost every novel known to man, we can still show how this particular space fits our POV character like the proverbial glove. If our location is a boarding school, specific elements will influence what it is like. Large or small, urban or rural, public or private—all these factors will say something about where the character lives or what her financial situation is, and will allude to her attitude about boarding school as she relays sensory details through her point of view. Is the school well tended or run down? Are the teachers enthusiastic or lackadaisical? Is there an emphasis on sports programming, on the arts, or on extracurricular activities and clubs? The answers will help your boarding school break the generic mold.
As mentioned earlier, whether a location is known to the character or not, settings can be personalized and seeded with emotional triggers if they don’t come with emotional values built right in. A park should never just be a park. A hotel room should never be just a hotel room. The choices you make about sensory details, lighting, people, and the symbols tied to each location will characterize the story’s cast and influence how readers connect to each scene.
Sensory Starvation: No one enjoys eating only one thing, even if that one thing is bacon or chocolate. Likewise, readers can grow bored by settings that are conveyed through only one of the senses. Sight is our primary go-to since we rely on it so heavily in real life, so it’s easy to only draw on visuals to describe. To combat this we need to think about how the character is experiencing the scene in other ways—through smell, taste, touch, and sound—and how these sensory inclusions make the character’s world more dimensional and real.
Sometimes it can be helpful to imagine yourself as the character and place yourself in the moment. Think about the emotions he’s feeling: what does your character expect to happen in this location? Depending on his mind-set, he will be tuned in to different things. If your character is uncertain or worried, his fight-or-flight instincts may be dialed up, putting his senses on alert for threats. As such, he would be more likely to notice odd movements or a noise that doesn’t fit rather than something benign, such as a child drawing with chalk on the sidewalk.
If you struggle with remembering to describe the lesser-used senses, don’t worry. Thinking “sensory” is something that gets easier with practice, and of course the entries in this book and its sister volume will help prompt you to build new description habits.
Crutches Rearing Up: When it comes to describing, all authors play favorites. As you’re crafting a scene, perhaps you include a rusted-out yellow pickup truck parked at the curb. Nothing wrong there, unless you also find your character chaining up his banana-yellow bike to a rack outside a bakery that happens to have yellow-lacquered doors. Then there’s a problem, because unintentional repetitions will flatten the description of those scenes.
Crutches can be sensory as well. Perhaps you love the sound of the wind sliding through a bounty of leaves. Independently, this sensory detail can really help readers experience the setting, but if you find yourself mentioning the sound of the wind in many different scenes, readers will notice. And the golden rule is to never let readers see the writing. It’s one thing if the repetitions are deliberate, such as the wind’s moaning being used as a motif throughout a story. But if the sensory details are cropping up by accident, it’s time to break out the editing knife.
A great way to combat crutches, be it a color, a sensory detail, a turn of phrase, or a figurative language choice, is to write down your favorite details and go-to techniques. Take your list and randomly check several scenes during your editing passes. Do you spot any descriptive patterns? Do you use way too many similes? If so, weed a few of those out and replace them with something fresh.
The good news is, if you can’t seem to see your repetitions, critique partners usually will. Fresh eyes can typically spot the things we’re blind to. Make a note asking a beta reader or critique partner to keep a list of any words, phrases, or descriptions that come up time and again. Then once you’re back in editing mode, you can replace these repeats with fresher imagery while also keeping an eye out for ones your early readers may have missed.
Weaker Writing: Tied to ho-hum settings are those that are watered down by weak word choices, adjective and adverb abuse, and a general lack of variation when it comes to descriptive techniques. Ideally, we want to utilize different sentence structures and draw from an array of figurative language so the writing not only leads to emotion-centric imagery but is also a pleasure to read. For more specific lessons on writing techniques that can be used to amp up your descriptions, please refer to The Rural Setting Thesaurus.
Growing one’s command of language happens through practice (write, write, write!) as well as observing while we read. Remember: everything about writing is a work in progress. Mastery, by nature, is impossible, but we continually improve when we keep ourselves open to learning. Wherever you are on the path, there’s always another step to take, which is one of the true joys of evolving as a writer.
Where in the World? Settings That Confuse
The third snag we want to avoid is reader confusion, which often happens when our setting description lacks the clarity to ground readers in the scene. As writers, we find it easy to focus so much on an amazing plot twist or tense romantic clash that we neglect the setting, assuming that readers are following along just fine. But without a strong sense of place, readers may find themselves confused. Here are two areas to watch out for as you write.
Movement Hiccups: Sometimes, during revision, description edits can mess with movement sequences, creating confusion. This happens because when we tighten scenes, description is often the first thing to go. The result? One minute, a character is sitting on a stool at a pool hall waiting for his turn to drop the 8-ball; the next, he’s standing at the bar swiping shots off an absent server’s tray. These hiccups are jarring and can snap readers out of the story. The good news is that they’re fairly easy to fix. Simply give each edited scene a final pass read, specifically looking for smooth movement transitions as a character goes from A to B while interacting with C.
Fast-Action Sequences: While setting descriptions should take a backseat when high action is underway, they still need to be present so readers can fully imagine what’s happening. Fight scenes, in particular, can create a quagmire of confusion because so much of the focus rests on the conflict between characters. It’s easy to forget about the setting altogether while the battle royal becomes a bloody sequence of punches, face kicks, and the occasional knee to the groin, but if readers can’t “see” the scene, you’ll lose their attention.
Whether your scene is all about the clash, the car chase, or the habañero-hot tryst, think about how elements of the setting can come into play. During the fistfight, are holes punched in the drywall, or is Mother’s treasured collection of glass owls wiped out in a single shove? In the tire-squealing car chase, does your character almost take out a mailman, sideswipe a school bus, or mow down a high-end restaurant’s patio topiary? As frantic lovers rush for the bedroom, are pictures bumped askew, does the mattress slide halfway off the platform, is an embarrassing teddy bear keepsake swept aside so it doesn’t spoil the mood? No matter what type of action you have, choosing setting details that fit naturally with the events will help readers better imagine (and enjoy) the scene.