Almost any book can be enhanced by a good setting.
Setting makes books cinematic. It has the potential to infuse every scene with vibrancy, with thrill and bite. It adds extra dimensions, fuels imagination, brings the written word to life.
When you pick a great setting, it can step out of the background and interact with your characters in compelling ways. At its best, setting can serve as an extra character, just as alive as your human ones.
I think of setting in two ways, which I'll call macrosetting and microsetting.
Macrosetting refers to overall setting in a book. Hunger Games is set in a dystopian former United States. Will Grayson, Will Grayson is set in and around Chicago. Twilight is set in Forks, Washington. The Forest of Hands and Teeth is set in a post-apocalyptic, zombie-infested forest.
Creative macrosettings aren't necessary for every book. But I'm obsessed with them! My debut, Like Mandarin, is set in a small Wyoming town. My second book, Wanderlove, is set in Guatemala and Belize. My works-in-progress take place deep in the misty jungle and the arid red rock desert. Now that I've discovered what a complex, dynamic, extrasensory tool setting can be, I can't imagine I'll ever stop embracing it.
I travel quite a bit, which has given me the chance to familiarize myself with diverse settings. If you don't get the chance to travel often, knowing a location well enough to write about can be a trickier task. Even when you research a ton, you're afraid of getting something wrong. It's hard to set a book in a spooky Welsh village, for example, if you've never left North America. But that doesn't mean you can't!
A.K.A., artistic license -- in this case, making up or changing a place to fit your needs. It can range from inventing a restaurant in Boston that doesn't exist to conjuring up an entire town. I do it all the time! In Like Mandarin, Washokey, Wyoming isn't real—it's a composite of several small towns I've known, and a heavy dose of pure imagining. A big portion of Wanderlove takes place on a Belizean island called Laughingbird Caye. The real Laughingbird is a tiny nature preserve. The island in my story is based on another island, hugely manipulated to fit my story.
This is our magic power as authors. We can make up not just people, but places, even when we're not writing fantasy.
Microsetting refers to the setting in each particular scene.
When you choose an unusual or vibrant macrosetting for your book, microsetting is much easier. Wanderlove takes place in Central America, and it's never a struggle to place the characters in vivid locations. Every conversation takes place somewhere striking, from a hammock in a rainforest hostel to a white sand beach at midnight.
However, authors writing stories with much more subdued macrosettings can—and should!—still think about microsetting as they write every single scene.
Maybe your book takes place in a suburban town just like your own. Not because you adore it, but because of the write-what-you-know mantra. Which is a good one, at least early on. But your town is boring! you might lament. It's like every other town! It's a microsetting fail!
Here's the thing. Your town might seem uninspiring to you, but can be utterly enthralling to readers from other towns, cities, countries. I've always lived in Southern California, and while others are fascinated by it—hello, MTV reality everything—I'm much more intrigued by other places. Not just India, Kenya and Turkey, but also coastal New England, the deep south, rural Iowa, London, Australia, New York City. Pretty much everywhere that isn't home!
Wherever you're from or familiar with, you have the power to take me there as a reader.
That's some crazy magic.
The best way to make microsetting compelling, I've found, is by coaxing out unique places and details. Bedrooms, classrooms, movie theaters, house parties—you can make them somewhat quirky, but in general, they're mostly the same. What about that alley filled with weird old junk? That abandoned diner? That makeout spot overlooking the water? That meadow where fireflies* glitter nightly?
Small-town Wyoming might seem boring to a Wyomingite, but I had no trouble finding beauty there. A conversation that might have taken place in a bedroom, I moved to an abandoned football field in the evening, with the wildwinds sweeping the bleachers. A party that could have taken place in someone's house, I moved to an abandoned quarry, supposedly haunted, with twin bonfires casting shadows onto the cliffs.
No matter where your story is located, you can find compelling places for conversations, interactions, minor and major-scale events. Pick out the best details, warp the others, and discard the rest.
*We don't have fireflies where I'm from. Tragic.
Setting makes books cinematic. It has the potential to infuse every scene with vibrancy, with thrill and bite. It adds extra dimensions, fuels imagination, brings the written word to life.
When you pick a great setting, it can step out of the background and interact with your characters in compelling ways. At its best, setting can serve as an extra character, just as alive as your human ones.
I think of setting in two ways, which I'll call macrosetting and microsetting.
Macrosetting
Macrosetting refers to overall setting in a book. Hunger Games is set in a dystopian former United States. Will Grayson, Will Grayson is set in and around Chicago. Twilight is set in Forks, Washington. The Forest of Hands and Teeth is set in a post-apocalyptic, zombie-infested forest.
Creative macrosettings aren't necessary for every book. But I'm obsessed with them! My debut, Like Mandarin, is set in a small Wyoming town. My second book, Wanderlove, is set in Guatemala and Belize. My works-in-progress take place deep in the misty jungle and the arid red rock desert. Now that I've discovered what a complex, dynamic, extrasensory tool setting can be, I can't imagine I'll ever stop embracing it.
I travel quite a bit, which has given me the chance to familiarize myself with diverse settings. If you don't get the chance to travel often, knowing a location well enough to write about can be a trickier task. Even when you research a ton, you're afraid of getting something wrong. It's hard to set a book in a spooky Welsh village, for example, if you've never left North America. But that doesn't mean you can't!
The key to macrosetting:
location manipulation.
location manipulation.
A.K.A., artistic license -- in this case, making up or changing a place to fit your needs. It can range from inventing a restaurant in Boston that doesn't exist to conjuring up an entire town. I do it all the time! In Like Mandarin, Washokey, Wyoming isn't real—it's a composite of several small towns I've known, and a heavy dose of pure imagining. A big portion of Wanderlove takes place on a Belizean island called Laughingbird Caye. The real Laughingbird is a tiny nature preserve. The island in my story is based on another island, hugely manipulated to fit my story.
This is our magic power as authors. We can make up not just people, but places, even when we're not writing fantasy.
Microsetting
Microsetting refers to the setting in each particular scene.
When you choose an unusual or vibrant macrosetting for your book, microsetting is much easier. Wanderlove takes place in Central America, and it's never a struggle to place the characters in vivid locations. Every conversation takes place somewhere striking, from a hammock in a rainforest hostel to a white sand beach at midnight.
However, authors writing stories with much more subdued macrosettings can—and should!—still think about microsetting as they write every single scene.
The key to microsetting:
asking yourself, Where can I put this scene to make it more interesting?
asking yourself, Where can I put this scene to make it more interesting?
Maybe your book takes place in a suburban town just like your own. Not because you adore it, but because of the write-what-you-know mantra. Which is a good one, at least early on. But your town is boring! you might lament. It's like every other town! It's a microsetting fail!
Here's the thing. Your town might seem uninspiring to you, but can be utterly enthralling to readers from other towns, cities, countries. I've always lived in Southern California, and while others are fascinated by it—hello, MTV reality everything—I'm much more intrigued by other places. Not just India, Kenya and Turkey, but also coastal New England, the deep south, rural Iowa, London, Australia, New York City. Pretty much everywhere that isn't home!
Wherever you're from or familiar with, you have the power to take me there as a reader.
That's some crazy magic.
The best way to make microsetting compelling, I've found, is by coaxing out unique places and details. Bedrooms, classrooms, movie theaters, house parties—you can make them somewhat quirky, but in general, they're mostly the same. What about that alley filled with weird old junk? That abandoned diner? That makeout spot overlooking the water? That meadow where fireflies* glitter nightly?
Small-town Wyoming might seem boring to a Wyomingite, but I had no trouble finding beauty there. A conversation that might have taken place in a bedroom, I moved to an abandoned football field in the evening, with the wildwinds sweeping the bleachers. A party that could have taken place in someone's house, I moved to an abandoned quarry, supposedly haunted, with twin bonfires casting shadows onto the cliffs.
No matter where your story is located, you can find compelling places for conversations, interactions, minor and major-scale events. Pick out the best details, warp the others, and discard the rest.
Where's a macrosetting you'd love to place a story?
Where are some interesting microsettings in your real-life town or city?
What are the most memorable macro- and microsettings in books you've read?
Where are some interesting microsettings in your real-life town or city?
What are the most memorable macro- and microsettings in books you've read?
*We don't have fireflies where I'm from. Tragic. 
22 comments:
Post a Comment