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Four Ways to Bring Settings
to Life
by Moira Allen
The devil, it's said, is in the
details. So, too, is much of the work of a writer. Too little
detail leaves your characters wandering through the narrative
equivalent of an empty stage. Too much, and you end up with great
blocks of description that tempt the reader to skip and skim,
looking for the action.
To set your stage,
it's important to choose the most appropriate, vivid details possible.
It's equally important to present those details in a way that
will engage the reader. The following four techniques can help.
1)
Reveal setting through motion.
Let your description
unfold as a character moves through the scene. Consider which
details your character would notice immediately, and which might
register more slowly. Let your character encounter those details
interactively.
Suppose, for
example, that your heroine, an "Orphan Annie" of humble
origins, has entered a millionaire's mansion. What would she notice
first? How would she react to her surroundings?
Let her observe
how soft the rich Persian carpet feels underfoot, how it muffles
her footfalls, how she's tempted to remove her shoes. Don't tell
us the sofa is soft until she actually sinks into it. Let her
smell the fragrance of hothouse flowers filling a cut-crystal
vase.
Use active verbs
to set the scene. Instead of saying "a heavy marble table
dominated the room," force your character to detour around
it. Instead of explaining that "light glittered and danced
from the crystal chandelier," let your character blink at
the prismatic display.
"Walking
through" a description breaks the details into bite-sized
nuggets, and scatters those nuggets throughout the scene so that
the reader never feels overwhelmed or bored.
2)
Reveal setting through a character's level of experience.
What your character
knows will directly influence what she sees. Your orphan may not
know whether the carpet is Persian or Moroccan, or even whether
it's wool or polyester. If these details are important, how can
you convey them?
You could, of
course, let the haughty owner of the mansion point out your heroine's
ignorance. Or, you could write the scene from the owner's perspective.
Keep in mind, however, that different characters will perceive
the same surroundings in very different ways, based on their familiarity
(or lack thereof) with the setting.
Imagine, for
example, that you're describing a stretch of windswept coastline
from the perspective of a local fisherman's son. What would he
notice? From the color of the sky or changes in the wind, he might
make deductions about tomorrow's weather and sailing conditions.
When he notices seabirds wheeling against the clouds, he doesn't
just see "gulls," but terns and gannets and petrels
-- easily identified by the shape of their wings or patterns of
their flight.
Equally important are the things
he might not notice. Being so familiar with the area, he might
pay little attention to the fantastic shapes of the rocks, or
the gnarled driftwood littering the sand. He hardly notices the
bite of the wind through his cable-knit sweater, and he's oblivious
to the stink of rotting kelp-mats that have washed ashore.
Now suppose a
rich kid from the big city is trudging along that same beach.
Bundled to the teeth in the latest Northwest Outfitters jacket,
he's still shivering -- and can't imagine why the lad beside him
isn't freezing to death. He keeps stumbling over half-buried pieces
of driftwood, and fears that the sand is ruining his Doc Martens.
From the way the waves pound against the beach, he thinks a major storm is
brewing. The very thought of bad weather makes him nauseous, as
does the stench of rotting seaweed (he doesn't think of it as
"kelp") and dead fish.
Each of these
characters' perceptions of the beach will be profoundly influenced
by his experience. "Familiar," however, needn't imply
a positive outlook, while "unfamiliar" needn't mean
"negative." Your city kid might, in fact, regard the
beach as an idyllic vacation spot -- rugged, romantic, isolated,
just the place to make him feel he's really getting in touch with
nature. The fisherman's son, on the other hand, may loathe the
ocean, feeling trapped by the whims of wind and weather. Which
brings us to the next point:
3)
Reveal setting through the mood of your character.
What we see is
profoundly influenced by what we feel. The same should be true
for our characters. Filtering a scene through a character's feelings
can profoundly influence what the reader "sees."
Suppose, for
example, that your heroine -- a spunky young girl on holiday --
is strolling an archetypal stretch
of British moorland. Across the blossoming gorse, she sees the
ruins of some ancient watchtower, little more than a jumble of
stones crowning the next hill (or "tor,"
as her guidebook puts it).
The temptation
to explore is irresistible. Flicking dandelion heads with her
walking stick, our heroine hikes up the slope, breathing the scents
of grass and clover, admiring the lichen patterns on the granite
boulders. At last, warmed by the sun and her exertions, she leans
back against a stone and watches clouds drift overhead like fuzzy
sheep herded by a gentle wind. A falcon shrills from a nearby
hollow, its cry a pleasant reminder of how far she has come from
the dirty high school she so despises.
A pleasant picture?
By now, your reader might be considering travel arrangements to
Dartmoor.
But what if your heroine is in a different mood? What if she has
become separated from her tour group and is lost? Perhaps she
started across the moor because she thought she saw a dwelling
-- but was dismayed to find that it was only a grey, creepy ruin.
The tower's scattered stones, half-buried
in weeds and tangled grasses, remind her of grave markers worn
faceless with time. Its silent emptiness speaks of secrets, of
a desolation that welcomes no trespassers. Though the sun is high,
scudding clouds cast a pall over the landscape, and the eerie,
lonesome cry of some unseen bird reminds her just how far she
is from home.
When this traveler
looks at the gorse, she sees thorns, not blossoms. When she looks
at clouds, she sees no fanciful shapes, only the threat of rain.
She wants out of this situation -- while your reader is on the
edge of his seat, expecting something far worse than a ruin to
appear on this character's horizon!
4)
Reveal setting through the senses.
A character's
perception of a setting will influence and be influenced by the
senses. Our stranded hiker, for example, may not notice the fragrance
of the grass, but she will be keenly aware of the cold wind. Our
city kid notices odors the fisherman's son ignores, while the
latter detects subtle variations in the color of the sky that
are meaningless to the former.
Different sensory
inputs evoke different reactions. For example, visual information
tends to be processed primarily at the cognitive level: We make
decisions and take action based on what we see. When we describe
a scene in terms of visual inputs, we are appealing to the reader's
intellect.
Emotions, however,
are often affected by what we hear. Think of the effects of a
favorite piece of music, the sound of a person's voice, the whistle
of a train. In conversation, tone of voice is a more reliable
indicator of mood and meaning than words alone. Sounds can make
us shudder, shiver, jump -- or relax and smile. Scene that include
sounds -- fingers scraping a blackboard, the distant baying of
a hound -- are more likely to evoke an emotional response.
Smell has the
remarkable ability to evoke memories. While not everyone is taken
straight to childhood by "the smell of bread baking,"
we all have olfactory memories that can trigger a scene, or a
recollection of an event or person. Think of someone's perfume,
the smell of new-car leather, the odor of wet dog. Then describe
that smell effectively, and your reader is there.
Touch evokes
a sensory response. Let your reader feel the silkiness of a cat's
fur, the roughness of castle stones, the
prickly warmth of Dad's flannel shirt. Let your heroine's feet
ache, let the wind raise goosebumps
on her flesh, let the gorse thorns draw blood.
Finally, there
is taste, which is closely related to smell in its ability to
evoke memories. Taste, however, is perhaps the most difficult
to incorporate into a setting; often, it simply doesn't belong
there. Your heroine isn't going to start licking the castle stones,
and it isn't time for lunch. As in real life, "taste"
images should be used sparingly and appropriately.
The goal of description
is to create a well-designed set that provides the perfect background
for your characters -- and that stays in the background, without
overwhelming the scene or interrupting the story. In real life,
we explore our surroundings through our actions, experience them
through our senses, understand (or fail to understand) them through
our knowledge and experience, and respond to them through our
emotions. When your characters do the same, you'll keep your readers
turning pages -- and not just because they're waiting for something
interesting to happen!
This Article was found at: http://www.articleblast.com/
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