A Writer's Guide to Active Setting (27 page)

Do you get a sense of place? Time of day? Where he lives? Sensory details? Crais gives us all this while showing the character in action as he interacts with the specific Setting. All this is accomplished with a few lines of Setting.

Let's look closely at how Crais could have led up to the passage above.

FIRST DRAFT:
Pike hid behind some plants and watched his own house for a long time.

Straight telling. We're not in the skin of the POV character, nor are we anchored to the passage of time or seeing Pike in action. It robs the reader of a lot of the sense of who Pike is, how he approaches a problem, and how he feels about the threat, doesn't it?

Let's try harder.

SECOND DRAFT:
Night replaced day as Pike waited behind some bushes, and still he watched. He waited until he was sure no one was inside and then snuck into his own place.

Crais does not risk a reader becoming confused or disoriented if they have set the book down at the end of a scene or a chapter. He makes sure that each scene and each chapter quickly anchors the reader into the POV character's skin. He reveals the passage of time since the last scene or chapter, and bam, the reader is off and running again in the story.

NOTE
: If you want the reader to get a sense of movement from place to place, consider using contrast to anchor the reader. For example,
Lake Wampa Wampa wasn't the largest lake in Wisconsin but it sure came close
. Now the reader has a stronger visual than a simple—
We drove past Lake Wampa Wampa
. The first example gives us enough of a visual to see the characters passing a specific type of lake. The second version only gives us a name that doesn't mean anything unless we've visited this part of Wisconsin.

Character in Action Through Setting

Here's a totally different story. Look closely at how the author, Jamie Ford, maximizes the Setting to show a character in action. Look specifically at how the character moves through this Setting, and how the author uses sensory details to increase the sense of risk and discovery, and to foreshadow that it matters where the character is going because of what he is doing to get there.

Before we get to the actual passage, let's look at how the author could have chosen to simply tell instead of showing the character experiencing a specific Setting:

FIRST DRAFT:
The boy, Henry, left his house in the middle of the night.

Is there any sense of risk? Of Henry moving through space? Of subtext showing that the above action must matter to Henry? Not really. The reader is waiting to find out what happens next in a passive way. There's nothing that ties her emotionally to Henry or to what's happening in the story.

We are halfway through the story at this passage, so we don't need a lot of description as to where in the city this event is happening, but we do need to get a sense that this action by the POV character is out of character and creates a sense of risk.

SECOND DRAFT:
Henry snuck out of his house via the fire escape.

Now the reader knows how the POV character moved from point A to point B, but we're not experiencing that movement along with him. Let's see how Ford makes the scene come alive by having the character move through a specific Setting:

After briefly listening and hearing no sign of his parents, Henry opened his window and crept down the fire escape. The ladder reached only halfway to the ground but near enough to a closed dumpster for recycled tires. Henry removed his shoes and leapt for the dumpster, which made a muffled clanging as his stocking feet landed on the heavy metal lid. Getting up again would be a bit of a scramble but doable, he thought, putting his shoes back on.

—Jamie Ford,
Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet

Let's pull this paragraph apart to see how Ford moves the character through the Setting to advance the story.

After briefly listening and hearing no sign of his parents, Henry opened his window and crept down the fire escape. [
This three-step description helps the reader dig deep into the scene—letting her listen for sleeping parents, feel the movement of the window, see the way he moves down the exit. And it's not just any exit—he didn't go through the front door but out the fire escape like a thief. Our hearts stop with Henry's for just a moment—will the parents' faces show up in the window above? This is a twelve-year-old boy who, up until this point in the story, has been very obedient and always tried to follow his father's rules to the letter, including the one that he not leave to meet the Japanese girl he's going to meet this evening. So the reader gets a stronger sense that what's about to happen matters because of what he's willing to do in leaving his home.
] The ladder reached only halfway to the ground but near enough to a closed dumpster for recycled tires. Henry removed his shoes and leapt for the dumpster, [
Potential risk factor here: If the author had made this exit too easy, the reader would not have had as strong a sense that this creeping out was a big deal.
] which made a muffled clanging as his stocking feet landed on the heavy metal lid. [
Sensory detail that has you almost inhaling with the sound after all the effort to be stealthy.
] Getting up again would be a bit of a scramble but doable, he thought, putting his shoes back on. [
And this raises a story question—can and will he be able to return this way based on what's been revealed about the Setting? The fact he doesn't linger to consider this element means that what he's after is important to him.
]

At this point in the story the reader knows this young Chinese boy has never done this type of thing before. He is disobeying his parents by going see a young Japanese girl, thus raising the stakes of the story by sneaking out to do something forbidden. If the author had spent less effort describing the Setting that the young boy had to navigate, the reader would have lost a lot of the depth and layering of the emotional experience of the story.

NOTE
: Having your character move through Setting can be so much more than shifting them from point A to point B. Be intentional with what you want the reader to see, feel, hear, and know as a result of movement. Not every time, but when your story warrants it.

Here's another example in my fast-paced, action-adventure story,
Invisible Recruit
. Observe how I increase the tension, use internalization, and thread in a hint of humor to a situation to keep ratcheting up the risks. The female protagonist has broken into a hotel room on the orders of her superior, Stone, to hide some electronic surveillance devices. Having accomplished this, though, everything falls apart when the occupant of the room, a man named Blade, returns. She suspects he is selling top-secret information, but he is also an old friend. The reader knows the set-up by this point, which helps start the scene in tension, but notice how you get a sense of the room in an active way, without slowing the pacing:

It was then she heard the sound. Voices raised on the other side of the main door.

Blade was back.

A quick scan. Not enough time to make the balcony. No room beneath the bed. Bathroom too small.

Every childhood horror movie she'd ever watched flashed before her.

When in doubt––

She ducked behind the window draperies as the door swung open. Blade was silhouetted by the hallway light, turned away from her.

He spoke guttural Russian to the two men beyond him.

If he as much as glanced at the window, she was a goner. She splayed her feet sideways, hoping the material did not sway, praying he'd cross to the bathroom before doing anything else.

If he found her, Stone would kill her. No, wait, Blade would kill her first, then go after Stone. Neither was a good scenario.

The light blazed on, mimicking midday in August. No wimpy bulbs in this hotel.

Bathroom. Bathroom. Go to the bathroom.

Blade's feet crossed to where the briefcase lay on the bed. Then paused.

Bathroom.

She could hear the slight click of the lock on the case opening. The sound of it being laid against the dresser.

For the love of God, go to the bathroom.

His cell phone rang.

Didn't the man have a bladder? If he were a woman, he'd have been in and out by now.

Then nothing. Total silence. Her breath backed up in her lungs. She was sure her pounding pulse could be heard, sure this whole wanting-to-do-something-vital-with-her-life theory was a big mistake.

If he as much as glanced at the window, he'd be able to see the rope dangling there, lighter than the darkness around it. When would they start making black nylon rope?

—Mary Buckham,
Invisible Recruit

This passage needs to keep the reader in the skin of the POV character, and in her emotions and feelings, but the reader also needs to see enough of the room to experience it as she does. The reader needs to experience a sense of the secondary character moving through space and the relationship of the secondary character spatially to the POV character, to keep the story active and moving forward. The look of the hotel room is not paramount for the reader to know here. The size of the bed or the placement of the furniture is not vital, so the details can be minimized while keeping the focus on the increasing risk of being discovered in a small space. The use of the Setting is meant to heighten the conflict and make it clear that the size and limitations of the Setting are working against the POV character.

NOTE
: The more large chunks of narrative description used on a page, the slower the story's pacing.

Setting's Impact on Active Pacing

Setting includes much more than simple description of place. Always ask yourself if you are slowing—or worse, stopping—the story to look around. Let's see how a YA author, Suzanne Collins, kept the pace active while describing a Setting that comes into play, not only in the immediate story, but in a three-book story arc. The author shows the protagonist moving through a specific Setting and lays it out so that it matters in the larger world of the series.

But first, let's look at a hypothetical first and second draft version.

FIRST DRAFT:
I live in the Seam. The Meadow is outside the Seam and separated by a high fence.

How well does this example anchor you into what “living in the Seam” means? Are you moving through this space along with the POV character, or are you passively waiting for some action to happen?

SECOND DRAFT:
I wanted to leave the Seam, where I live and where it's pretty depressing, and go to the Meadow, even though we're not supposed to go there. I have to crawl under an electric fence that's turned off to get there.

A little better, but as a reader we're not feeling what it means to move from where this girl lives to where she's forbidden to be. So let's see how Collins moves the reader actively through space in the story and reveals so much more about the world of this POV character:

Our house is almost at the edge of the Seam. I only have to pass a few gates to reach the scruffy field called the Meadow. Separating the Meadow from the woods, in fact enclosing all of District 12, is a high chain-link fence topped with barbed-wire loops. In theory, it's supposed to be electrified twenty-four hours a day as a deterrent to the predators that live in the woods—packs of wild dogs, lone cougars, bears—that used to threaten our streets. But since we're lucky to get two or three hours of electricity in the evenings, it's usually safe to touch. Even so, I always take a moment to listen carefully for the hum that means the fence is live. Right now, it's silent as stone. Concealed by a clump of bushes, I flatten out on my belly and slide under a two-foot stretch that's been loose for years. There are several other weak spots in the fence, but this one is so close to home I almost always enter the woods here.

—Suzanne Collins,
The Hunger Games

Look how much Collins accomplishes in this Setting description. She doesn't tell the reader that this dystopian world is dangerous for the young protagonist, she shows the reader by how the character moves through her world, checking out the electric fence, and being aware that going beyond that fence is dangerous.

The initial part of the narrative description is static. The reader is being told what the Seam is and how it looks. Sometimes this is necessary to a story, especially a series, but the author does not stop there. She then shifts the reader to movement through this static environment starting with the sentence, “Even so …”

NOTE:
Telling and showing can make a powerful combination. Telling alone is more passive and slower paced, but sometimes, if the intention of the Setting does not impact the story, you can use telling. But if the Setting matters, then don't be afraid to show, or tell and show, for the strongest response in the reader.

What Not to Do

An example of what to avoid when using Setting in action:

Astrid walked into the living room and noticed the couch, two chairs, and long drapes hanging at the window. All were blue in color and looked new. But there was no place to hide.

Can you see the most immediate issue? You are being focused on non-important details, given the context of the last sentence. The reader doesn't need to see the specifics in this room except for how they relate to the POV character's scene goal, which is to hide.

Let's see how the author can make the Setting matter more to the scene goal, impact the character, and reveal to the reader details that matter to the story. Let's move the character into this specific Setting to show the reader an increase in tension.

Astrid jogged into the first room she could find with an open door. A quick scan showed her it was a living room with no clear place to hide. Why couldn't Mrs. Nix decorate in over-sized Gothic or furniture with lots of drapes and swags instead of Danish modern? What now?

Other books

Always Enough by Borel, Stacy
Secretly by Cantor, Susan
Mrs. Kimble by Jennifer Haigh
A Scandal to Remember by Elizabeth Essex
Core by Teshelle Combs
Bettyville by George Hodgman
Coffin Island by Will Berkeley
Cold Turkey by Bennett, Janice
The Wimbledon Poisoner by Nigel Williams