Table of Contents

Title Page
INTRODUCTION
CHAPTER 1: SMELLS FOR REALISM
CHAPTER 2: SOUNDS FOR EXCITEMENT
CHAPTER 3: LIGHT FOR ATMOSPHERE
CHAPTER 4: COLOUR FOR MOOD
CHAPTER 5: WEATHER FOR INTENSITY
CHAPTER 6: DETAIL FOR REALISM
CHAPTER 7: SIMILES FOR WORLD BUILDING
CHAPTER 8: SYMBOLS FOR THE LITERARY TOUCH
CHAPTER 9: THE QUANTITY PROBLEM
CHAPTER 10: DEEP POV
CHAPTER 11: OPENING SCENES
CHAPTER 12: CLIMAX SCENES
CHAPTER 13: ACTION SCENES
DOUBLE RAINBOWS
FURTHER READING
WRITING VIVID SETTINGS

Copyright Rayne Hall © 2014

All Rights Reserved
Cover art and design by Erica Syverson
Scimitar Press (December 2014 Edition)
St. Leonards
INTRODUCTION

Do you want your readers to feel like they're really there—in the place
where the story happens?

By creating vivid settings, you can bring this about. Your readers will
breathe the cool mountain air, feel the icy wind sting their cheeks, and sink
their toes into the moist sand.

Some authors create sumptuous descriptions for the readers to savour like a
rich banquet, others serve theirs like a salad, lean and crisp. Whichever
style you choose, you must craft your setting descriptions so they increase
the appetite for the story.

I love settings the way other people love chocolate. But my early
descriptions were sticky gunk, calorie-laden with little flavour. Long-
winded and dull, spread over many paragraphs and mired down the action.
Unsurprisingly, readers skipped them. Now I craft setting descriptions
where every sentence melts in the mouth like a luxury chocolate truffle.

Whether you want to enrich stark prose with atmospheric detail, add
vibrancy to a dull piece or curb waffling descriptions, this guide can help.
Learn how to make your settings intense, realistic, and intriguing.

Most chapters show tricks you can apply to every scene. Some give
suggestions for specific situations, such as night scenes, romance, scary
moments, and fights.

Try the techniques and add them to your toolkit. Then decide which tool to
use for which scene, and how. I'm teaching the craft, but the choice of how
to apply it is your art. Don't rely on a single tool, because any technique
becomes tedious if overused. Interpret my techniques creatively. When you
infuse them with your own taste and personality, you create your unique
author voice.

To get the most from this guide, you need to have mastered the basics of the
writer's craft. It doesn't teach you how to plot a story or construct a scene,
but it shows you how to enhance them with vivid settings.

If you like, you can use this book as a self-study class, approaching each
chapter as a lesson and completing the assignments at the end of each
session.

To avoid the clunky 'he or she does this with her or him', I use sometimes
the male pronoun and sometimes the female. Everything I write in this book
applies to either gender. I'm writing in British English, so my grammar,
punctuation, spellings and word choices may look odd if you're used to
American.

Now let's bring your story settings to life.

Rayne Hall
CHAPTER 1: SMELLS FOR REALISM

Here’s a powerful technique for immersing readers into your story: use the
sense of smell.

Of all the senses, smell has the strongest psychological effect. The mere
mention of a smell evokes memories and triggers associations in the
reader’s subconscious.

Mention a smell, and the scene comes to life. Mention two or three, and the
reader is pulled into the scene as if it were real.

A single sentence about smells can reveal more about a place than several
paragraphs of visual descriptions. This is useful if you aim to keep your
descriptions short.

For example, the hero enters a home for old people. The place smelled of
boiled cabbage, urine and disinfectant. These nine words are enough to
convey what kind of old people’s home this is, and it creates a strong image
in the reader’s mind.

Or try these:
The room smelled of pizza, beer and unwashed socks.
The room smelled of beeswax, joss sticks and patchouli.
The corridor smelled of mould and leaking sewage.
The kitchen smelled of coffee, cinnamon and freshly baked bread.
The kitchen smelled of burnt milk, overripe pears and bleach.
The garden smelled of lilacs and freshly mown grass.
The cell smelled of blood, urine and rotting straw.

HOW AND WHERE TO USE THIS TECHNIQUE

The best place to insert a sentence about smells is immediately after the
point-of-view (PoV) character has arrived at a new location. That’s when
humans are most aware of smells, so it feels right if you mention them.
Smells trigger emotions. If you want your reader to feel positive about the
place, use pleasant scents. To make the reader recoil, mention nasty odours.

Also, consider the genre. Thriller and horror readers appreciate being taken
to places where odours are as foul as the villain’s deeds, but romance
readers want a pleasant experience, so treat them to lovely scents.

If you like, you can use this technique in almost every scene. To keep it
fresh, vary the sentence structure and the wording. Here are some
suggestions:

The place reeked/stank of XX and YY.

The odours of XX and YY mingled with the smells of CCC and DDD.
Her nostrils detected a whiff of XX beneath the smells of YY and CCC.
The smell of XX warred with the stronger odour of YY.
The air was rich with the scents of XX and YY.
The smell of XX failed to mask the stench of YY.
The stench of XX hit him first, followed by the odour of YY.
Beneath the scent of XX lay the more ominous odours of YY and CCC.
The scents of XX and YY greeted her.
The smells of XX and YY made his mouth water.
He braced himself against the stink of XX and YY.

PROFESSIONAL EXAMPLES

These examples show how authors have used this technique in their fiction.

The room smelled like stale smoke and Italian salad dressing. (Michael
Connelly: The Poet)

I took a couple of deep breaths, smelled rain, diesel and the pungent dead-
fish-and-salt stench off the river. (Devon Monk: Magic to the Bone)

The place smelt of damp and decay. (Jonathan Stroud: The Amulet of
Samarkand)
A rare south wind had brought the smell of Tyre to last night’s landfall:
cinnamon and pepper in the cedar-laced pine smoke, sharp young wine and
close-packed sweating humanity, smoldering hemp and horse piss. (Mathew
Woodring Stover: Iron Dawn)

The smell hit her first: rotting flesh, ancient blood. (Kristine Kathryn
Rusch: Sins of the Blood)

The air held the warm odours of honey and earth, of pine resin and goat
sweat, mingled with the scents of frying oil and spice. (Rayne Hall: Storm
Dancer)

Its air was stagnant, smelling of corner must, discarded tires, and jugs of
used motor oil. (Janet Evanovich: One for the Money)

The cold air reeked of cabbages and sweat. (Jason Goodwin: The
Snakestone)

The air simmered with the reek of garlic and hair pomade (Lindsay Davis:
The Silver Pigs)

MISTAKES TO AVOID

If the first sentence in every scene is a list of three smells, it becomes

predictable and boring. Make it less obvious by varying the wording, the
sentence structure and the placement.

Don't overdo the bad smells, or the reader may feel such revulsion that she
doesn't want to read on.

ASSIGNMENTS

1. Whatever story you’re working on right now, whatever scene you’re

writing, think of two or more smells that characterise the place. Write a
sentence about them, and insert it near the beginning of the scene.
2. When you go somewhere today—to the supermarket, the dentist or the
church—pay attention to the smells of the place. Write them down. If you
do this for a different place every day, you'll soon have a reference—a
Setting Descriptions Bank—you can draw on for future stories.
CHAPTER 2: SOUNDS FOR EXCITEMENT

A sentence describing noises creates a strong atmosphere. At the same time,

it rouses the reader's excitement.

You can use two types of sounds: background noises and action noises.

BACKGROUND NOISES

Sounds which are unrelated to the action but characterise the place are
perfect for creating atmosphere. You can combine several sounds in a single
sentence.

An empty beer can clattered along the pavement.

Keyboards clacked, papers rustled and printers whirred.
Upstairs, a toilet flushed and water gurgled down the drainpipe.
Thunder rumbled in the distance.
Washing machines clicked and sloshed, driers rumbled and coins thunked.
Motors whined, and tyres screeched on the tarmac.
Hooves clattered on the cobblestones below.
The train accelerated with a low growl that gradually rose to a high whine.
Thunder roared, and raindrops hammered against the glass.
The fire in the grate crackled.

When and How To Use Background Noises

You can insert a sentence about background noises in any part of the scene
where it makes sense.
It works especially well in these situations:
- The PoV character is waiting (for her job interview, her rescue or her
execution).
- A character pauses or delays replying. A sentence like this implies the
pause and is more interesting than, He paused or, She hesitated.
- To emphasise an exciting moment.
- To further raise the suspense in a suspenseful situation, insert a sentence
about background noises the moment the reader holds her breath.
- When the setting is dark (for example, at night) sprinkle sounds
throughout the scene.

ACTION SOUNDS

Whenever characters do something—walk, work, fight, rest—they do it in a

specific space, and their actions interact with their environment. This
creates a link between the action and the setting. Emphasise this link,
especially if you want the reader to become immersed in the story. The best
way to do this is by describing the sounds arising from the characters'
interaction with the environment.

When and How to Use Action Sounds

This technique works best for fast-paced, action-rich scenes. It gives the
reader a sense of the environment without slowing the pace of the action.

You can add the sound to the sentence containing the action (He marched
out, banging the door behind him), or you can create a short separate
sentence just for the sound (The door banged behind him.)

The door screeched on its hinges.

I sank into the armchair. The seat squealed under my weight.
Stairs creaked under her steps.
Gravel crunched under his feet.
My wheeled suitcase rattled across cracked paving-slabs and patched
tarmac.

PROFESSIONAL EXAMPLES

She heard him walk above her somewhere. The heavy click of his heels on
the creaky wood floors. The jingle of his keys. Then there was silence.
(Jilliane Hoffman: Pretty Little Things)
Above her, the security system buzzed, then the elevator whirred and
banged. (Kristine Kathryn Rusch: Sins of the Blood)

An empty coke can rattled across the concrete, a crisp wrapper rustled
along the track, and somewhere in the distance, a motor whined. (Rayne
Hall: The Devil You Know)

The creek hummed and churned, birds chirped. (Chelsea Cain: Sweetheart)

Our footsteps rang fast and sharp on the ancient stone floor. (Lindsey
Davis: The Silver Pigs)

She thumbed a switch and the doors closed with a hiss and a thump. (Neil
Gaiman: American Gods)

The Horseshoe reverberates with noise. There are DOs yelling to each
other or into the mikes at their shoulders; doors ringing as they are
slammed and locked; drunks drying out to friends they've hallucinated into
existence. And then there is the bass line: the steady squelch of a working
inmate's shoes on the floor as eh mops; the hum of an air-exchange fan; the
Christmas jingle of chains as a line of men are shuffled down the hallway.
(Jodi Picoult: Vanishing Acts)

MISTAKES TO AVOID

Don't just list the noises (There

were sounds of cars and birds.) Instead, use verbs
to bring the sounds to life: (Cars hummed and birds twittered.)

ASSIGNMENTS

1. Consider the scene you're writing or revising now. What background

noises could there be in the place? Make a list. Combine three of them in a
sentence. Insert the sentence into your scene, choosing a moment where the
character is waiting for something or has time to listen to the environment.
2. What are the characters doing in the scene you're working on? What
noises do their movements create on the floor, or with the furniture or
doors?

3. Walk in the street, sit in a coffee shop or pay attention as you travel to
work: what noises do you hear? Write them down and add them to your
collection of setting descriptions.
CHAPTER 3: LIGHT FOR ATMOSPHERE

To convey the atmosphere of a place, insert a sentence about where the light
comes from, its colour and quality.

By phrasing this sentence creatively, you can evoke any kind of atmosphere
you want: creepy, gritty, romantic, optimistic, depressed, aggressive, gentle,
dire.

HOW AND WHERE TO USE THIS TECHNIQUE

Ask yourself: where does the light in this place come from? Sunlight,
candles, lantern, torch, glass wall, bare light bulb, neon strip lights,
windows, campfire, ceiling lamp, embroidered table lamp, car headlights?
What's its quality? Harsh, gentle, muted, cheery, sparse, intense, bright?
What's its colour? Yellow, orange, white?

What does the light do? Instead of something bland, like, illuminated the
room, choose a creative verb. Does it paint certain patterns? If yes, what
kind, and where? Does it reveal, slam, spear, brush, stroke or pierce
something? Does it peek, flicker, glow, glare?

If light comes from the window, consider constructing a sentence on this

basis:

Cold/cool/bright/warm/white/yellow/golden/pearly/silvery/harsh/mild/gentl
e/soft light
fell/dropped/poured/spilled/peeked/trickled/speared/shot/glinted/spread/stre
aked/burst through the window(s).

You can create endless variations on that. I'm sure one of them will suit
your indoor scene.

You can also add:

... and painted/drew/threw/sent/slammed/spattered [adjective & noun
describing shapes] on the [adjective & noun describing items of furniture
or parts of the room].
Examples:

Harsh light shot through the windows and painted sharp rectangles on the
tiled floor.
Golden light trickled through the window and painted soft rectangles on the
lush carpet.

When writing outdoor scenes, describe if something glints, gleams or

sparkles in the light. The quality of the light differs at different times of the
day. In the morning, the light tends to be cool and clear, showing everything
in bright colours with crisp outlines. Around noon and early afternoon, the
light is intense and harsh, with very short shadows, and everything looks
washed-out and pale. In the late afternoon, the light becomes softer,
warmer, dipping everything in a golden glow, and the shadows lengthen.
Sunset brings magnificent colour effects. (Note: these effects can vary
depending on where in the world the story takes place.)

Shadows are great, too, especially if you want to create suspense,

foreboding or uncertainty. In outdoors scenes, you can also use them to
indicate the time of the day. Do they flicker, lengthen, shorten, shrink,
reach, spread, dance?

The sentence about light often works best near the beginning of the scene,
though you can also use it later, especially if the light changes (shadows
grow longer, candle flame dies).

One sentence is usually enough, but if you aim for a lush descriptive
writing style, you can write a whole paragraph.

PROFESSIONAL EXAMPLES

Many bestselling authors rely on this technique for creating atmosphere.

The Morelli garage hunkered detached and snubbed at the edge of their lot.
It was a sorry affair, lit by a single shaft of light filtering through a grime-
coated window. (Janet Evanovich: One For The Money.)

The four narrow windows, set high in the walls, were hardly larger than
embrasures, and the dust-filmed panes of glass permitted only weak, chalky
light to enter. Even brightened by a pair of lamps, the big room held on
tenaciously to its shadows, unwilling to be completely disrobed. The
flickering amber light from the lamps revealed damp stone walls and a
hulking, coal-fired furnace that was cold and unused on this fine, warm
May afternoon. (Dean Koontz: The Mask)

Behind them the sun rose over the horizon. Every slight rise in the desert
was gilded, every tiny depression a pool of black ink. As they rode, their
shadows flickered far out in front as if in a futile attempt to outrun them.
(Harry Sidebottom: King of Kings)

A sliver of soft sunlight pierced a crack in the silk drapes. (Jeff Abbot:
Panic)

Morning light cut through the crack in the curtains and slashed its mark
across the bleached pine floor. He watched particles of dust floating lazily
in the light near the sliding glass door. (Michael Connelly: The Black Echo)

The sand shifted in the waning light and dust billowed up in a shimmering
haze (Michelle Moran: Nefertiti)

The first grudging rays flickered in the eastern sky. A halo of light slowly
emerged over the Docklands horizon. (Jonathan Stroud: The Amulet of
Samarkand)

Incongruously, there were more fishermen now, hooded and wrapped

against the cold, small green lights alongside them puncturing the night.
Car headlights flickering in the waters of the canal. (John Harvey:
Darkness & Light)

The apartment was a well of shadows, oil-black and pooled deep. Faint
ash-gray light outlined the windows but provided no illumination to the
room (Dean Koontz: The Bad Place)
I roll up my blinds and the light floats in. (Vikram Seth, An Equal Music)

White oak floors gleamed like polished glass. Sunlight streamed in through
floor-to-ceiling windows. (Tess Gerritsen: The Apprentice)

The sun gleaming upon that brilliant patch of clear, restful colour, with the
dark glow of the bare desert around it, made it shine like the purest emerald
in a setting of burnished copper. (Arthur Conan Doyle: The Tragedy of the
Korosko)

MISTAKES TO AVOID

If you use this technique in every scene, make sure you describe different
light effects and vary the sentence structure. If the sun glints off armour in
one scene, the campfire glints off armour in the second and torchlight does
the same in the third, it becomes tedious.

ASSIGNMENTS

1. For the scene you're currently working on, decide the time of the day, the
source(s) of the light, and the kind of atmosphere you want to create. Craft
one sentence about the light, and insert it into the scene.

2. Take your notebook with you. When you have a moment to spare—in the
supermarket, at the bus stop, in the pub, on the beach—observe the colour
and quality of light, and write it in your notebook. If you're not going
anywhere, you can simply look out of your window and describe a light
effect. Collect light observations for as many places as possible. Save them
in a file for future use—your Setting Descriptions Bank.
CHAPTER 4: COLOUR FOR MOOD

When describing colours, don't stick to boring red, white and green. Instead,
have fun and come up with creative phrases. Choose phrases which convey
a mood and place hints in the reader's subconscious.

If you describe a street scene in autumn, with leaves dotting the pavements,
don't just say that the leaves are yellow. Instead, say that they're yellow like
splatters of vomit or yellow like scattered gold coins. Both evoke a similar
vision, but a vastly different mood.

HOW AND WHERE TO USE THIS TECHNIQUE

You can apply this technique throughout your story, whenever and as much
as you like.
You may want to use the following constructs:

- 'noun-[name of colour]' (for example: chocolate-brown, turd-brown,

rosehip-red, spinach-green, dandelion-yellow)

- 'the colour of [adjective plus noun]' (the colour of a stagnant pond, the
colour of washed-out jeans)

- '[noun]-coloured' (vomit-coloured, ketchup-coloured)

- 'as [name of colour] as [adjective plus noun]' (as white as a freshly-

laundered bed sheet, as red as tomato sauce)

Most descriptions will involve a simile (comparing the colour to a similar-

coloured object). Try to use similes which come natural to your PoV
character. Compare the colour of the new item with something from your
PoV's range of experience.

For example, something is white. If your PoV is a chef, she'll think as white
as wheat flour, a mason thinks plaster-white and secretary as white as
printer-paper, while for a housekeeper the same colour may be as white as
a freshly starched linen sheet.

Colours can create a sense of danger, foreboding or violence if you describe

something as bruise-coloured, the colour of bleached bones or the colour of
a fresh wound.

Colours can evoke periods or contexts:

the green of a 1950s kidney table

the green of a 1980s bathroom suite
the pink of his grandmother's slippers
the red of the priest's stole at Easter Mass

Even if the readers aren't familiar with the colour trends of bygone periods,
even if they've never attended Easter Mass, and have never seen the PoV's
grandmother's slippers, they'll get a strong message about the colour and
what it represents to the character.

The exact colour often matters less than the mood it evokes. For example,
the colour of icing on an oversweet cake is not very specific, but it reveals a
lot about the PoV's attitude.

PROFESSIONAL EXAMPLES

Walls were painted bone-white. (Lisa Gardner: The Killing Hour)

The bare-limbed trees were ash-coloured, as if they had been severely

scorched by a long-
extinguished fire (Dean Kootz: Darkfall)

A candelabra of twisted iron spikes burned with candles the shade of

tomato soup, in the middle of the glass dining table. (Tanith Lee: When the
Lights Go Out)
The sky was bruise blue and flesh pink behind a swaddling of pure white
cumulus, hinting at the frigid clarity to come. (Michael Faber: Under the
Skin)

At last, bits of daylight peered through the nicotine-coloured plastic blinds.

(Rayne Hall: Night Train)

MISTAKES TO AVOID

Don't use clichés to describe colours (as white as the fallen snow, grass
green, pitch black, blood red). Instead, think of fresh phrases.

ASSIGNMENTS

1. Look around you. Observe the colour of an item, and think of three
different creative ways to describe this colour. Add these phrases to your
Setting Descriptions Bank.

2. What mood do you want to create for the scene you're currently working
on? Describe the colour of something in the setting in a way that evokes
that mood.
CHAPTER 5: WEATHER FOR INTENSITY

Here is one of the simplest yet most powerful tools in the writer's toolkit: the weather.

New writers often ignore this tool, but bestselling authors use it a lot to create atmosphere, magnify
tension and build intensity.

Using the weather can spice up any scene in any genre. You can choose weather that's typical for the
location and the season, or freaky weather. Whether a hot wind sucks all moisture from the place, or
a steady downpour soaks everything, a scene with specific weather immediately becomes vivid.

Places look very different in different kinds of weather, which allows you to create interesting,
atmospheric descriptions.

Just don't choose nice, normal, non-descriptive weather. 'Nice and normal' makes bland fiction.

Characters perceive the surroundings differently depending on the weather. If your main character
(MC) arrives at a holiday destination and it's hot and sunny, she'll probably find the place pleasant.
But if rain is pouring by the bucket, or if a chilly mist blocks the view, she'll feel frustrated.

The weather affects the PoV character's (and therefore the reader's) experience. Driving along a
country road feels differently if it's baking-oven hot and the tarmac is melting, than if the rain pours
faster than her windscreen wipers can clear it away, or if snow covers an ice-slick road. Your MC will
feel differently, drive differently, behave differently.

The more extreme the weather is, the more intense the scene becomes. Extreme weather brings out
the best or the worst in people. Prolonged bad weather makes people bad-tempered. Heatwaves can
make some people tired and other people passionate. Weather conditions can isolate people. Imagine
a group of people who can't get out of their hut for two weeks because they're snowed in. They feel
trapped by surroundings and act accordingly. Tempers will flare.

HOW AND WHERE TO USE THIS TECHNIQUE

If you have a relatively bland scene that needs livening up, perhaps a transition scene in which not
much action happens, then change the weather and see what happens. Your protagonists will
suddenly feel and act differently, and everything becomes more interesting.
If you revisit the same place for several scenes in your novel, consider changing the weather each
time, perhaps according to the seasons.

During the Black Moment and Climax scenes of your novel, choose extreme weather—a blizzard, a
hurricane, a heatwave.

Keep in mind that the weather will affect everything in that scene: how people dress, how they walk,
how they travel, how they feel.

If you're writing a novel, create some form of a timeline—perhaps month-by-month—showing which

scene happens during which part of the year. This will give you a clear idea whether the duel will
take place on a crisp cool March morning, under a drizzling February sky, in stormy October or in
thick November fog.

If you're revising an already written novel, I recommend developing this kind of timeline as well. Be
very aware which season your protagonists are experiencing, and let the reader feel the experience.
For outdoor scenes, the weather needs to affect the action. For indoors scenes, it may only need a
passing reference—the rain hammering the windows, the heroine taking off her sodden cloak, the
hero turning the lights on.

In historical novels—especially those set in periods before high-speed trains and motorways, before
electric lighting and central heating—the weather and the seasons play a crucial role.

PROFESSIONAL EXAMPLES

Overhead, the black clouds boiled and seethed, lightning was striking all around them—waves
towered high threatening to break over the bow. (Mercedes Lackey: Fortune's Fool)

It was late summer. Rome frizzled like a pancake on a griddleplate. (Lindsey Davis: The Silver Pigs)

Even in the shade of the graffiti-carved olive tree, the air sang with heat. (Rayne Hall: Storm Dancer)

The sun stabbed at him with lances of fire, and then rising higher bathed the great alkali basin in
white radiance and blasting furnace heat. (Louis L'Amour: Mistakes Can Kill you)

Beyond the glass, everything was grey and blustered by wind, gulls and white garbage, uninviting.
Staircases of Victorian villas rose to cliffs, and sky full of rain. (Tanith Lee: When the Lights Go Out)

The sun started to descend, surfing bright orange waves of heat. Shadows grew longer, while it
remained stifling hot. (Lisa Gardner: The Killing Hour)

October, fleeting and sappy-sweet with its reddish-gold light and early white frosts and the leaves
turning brilliantly, is a different matter, a magical time, a last gleeful defiance in the face of the
approaching cold. (Joanne Harris: Five Quarters of the Orange)

MISTAKES TO AVOID

Watch out for continuity errors. If your MC walks through the rain in Chapter 4, she needs to be wet
when she arrives at her destination in Chapter 5. After several weeks of heavy snow, your MC won't
go out without putting on boots, coat and hat. After a hailstorm, the bedraggled petunias will no
longer brighten the garden with their colourful glory.

When writing about regions you don't know from personal experience, don't commit stupid blunders
by showing weather conditions which don't occur there. A hurricane in central Kansas, a tornado in
the Swiss Alps or a monsoon season in Egypt will lessen your credibility with the readers fast (unless
the story is about freak weather conditions or climate change).

Don't choose weather to reflect the PoV's mood: The sun smiling when she's in love, a storm roaring
when she churns with anger, and rain falling while tears drop from her face, can make your story
cheesy. In literary criticism, this obvious use of weather reflecting the mood is called 'The Pathetic
Fallacy'. Avoid it.

Instead, choose weather that doesn't obviously reflect the mood, perhaps even weather that's
seemingly in contrast, and filter it through the PoV's mood. How does it feel to be newly in love
during a hailstorm? How does passionate fury feel when the sea is becalmed and the sun is shining?
This makes your writing fresh and original.

ASSIGNMENTS

1. At what time of the year, and what time of the day does this scene take place? What is the weather
like at that time in that part of the world?
2. Write several sentences describing the weather. Insert at least two of them in the scene—more may
be better. Sprinkle them throughout the scene.

3. Does your work in progress (WiP) have a scene that's lifeless and dull? Consider if a drastic
change of weather could bring it to life.

4. What's the weather like where you are right now? Look out of the window or go for a walk.
Experience the weather. Observe sounds, sights and smells. Write them down for your Setting
Descriptions Bank. You can never have too many weather descriptions.
CHAPTER 6: DETAIL FOR REALISM

A few carefully-chosen visual details create realism and reveal far more
about a place than lengthy descriptions.

Mention small things which most people would overlook but which are in
some way representative of the place, or of the person who lives there.

A novice might describe a kitchen like this: It was a medium-sized modern

kitchen, approximately five feet wide and twelve feet long, with an oven next
to the sink, and a fridge beside the window which had green curtains, and a
spice-rack above the fridge. There were three tea-towels hanging from
white hooks beside the sink, and there was a lamp hanging from the middle
of the ceiling, and on the wall opposite was a calendar.

A professional writer will use fewer words to say more. Here are five
different kitchens, brought to life with two details each:

1. …the sink overflowing with coffee-cups… a dead wasp on the windowsill

2. … sparkling chrome water taps… spice jars arranged alphabetically

3. … famous brand toaster… colour-coordinated tea-towels

4. … three unopened packs of filter cigarettes … a pin-up calendar showing

a busty blonde and last year’s date

5. … Cookery books titled ‘Slim Cuisine’, ‘Eat Right, Lose Weight Fast’
and ‘Delicious Low Fat Meals’… a huge chocolate gateau, half eaten

How many visual details should you include? This depends on your
individual author voice. For a lean, brisk style, one or two are enough,
while a rich, sumptuous style may pamper readers with a dozen.

You may choose to inject more details in places where you want to slow the
pace.
HOW AND WHERE TO USE THIS TECHNIQUE

The trick lies in choosing the right details. Here are six areas you may want
to explore.

1. What's the ground like? Shining parquet? A carpet with psychedelic

pattern and burn holes? Polished marble? Creaking planks? Waterlogged
lawn? Patched asphalt? Weed-infested gravel?

2. What are the walls like? Any pictures or graffiti? If yes, what kind?
Cracks? Stains? Peeling wallpaper? Patches of mould? Cobwebs in the
corners?

3. Are there any posters, notices, signs? These reveal much about the intent
of the people who put them up. They can intimidate, annoy, hint at danger
or create a sense of irony if other people are obviously ignoring them.

4. Any plants? What kind? In what condition? Neglected or cared-for?

5. Any animals? Pets, cattle, wild birds? How does the animal sit, stand,
move? What sounds does it make? A robin may perch on a fencepost and
chirp, a seagull may soar overhead and screech, a spider may dangle from
the ceiling, a cockroach may scuttle into a floor crack.

6. The source and quality of the light always provides atmospheric details
(see Chapter 3).

Insert the details when it is natural for the PoV to notice them.

PROFESSIONAL EXAMPLES

The Dragon and Stars Academy of Martial Arts was located on the second
floor of a tired brick building on Harrison Avenue, and as Jane and Frost
climbed the narrow stairway, they could hear chants and grunts and
thumping feet, and could already smell the sweaty locker-room door. Inside
the studio, a dozen students garbed in black pajama-like costumes moved
with such total focus that not a single one seemed to notice the two
detectives' entrance. Except for a faded martial arts poster, it was a starkly
empty room with bare walls and a scuffed wood floor. (Tess Gerritsen: The
Silent Girl)

Here they sit in the dark oppressive parlour of the vicarage, with its skimpy
carpet, faded wallpaper, and stern pictures of former incumbents. (Carol
Hedges: Honour & Obey)

Afternoon light filtered through filigree lattices, dipping Teruma's study into
pale gold. Merida inhaled the cool mint scent.
Barely looking up from the piles of parchment on her desk, Teruma
pointed at a yellow divan by the window. Merida plunged onto it, expecting
to sink into its sumptuous depth, but beneath its silken softness, it was hard
and ungiving. A sleek cat uncurled from an embroidered cushion and
stretched, baring claws. Then it yawned and settled back to sleep. A caged
bird twittered and fell silent. (Rayne Hall: Storm Dancer)

MISTAKES TO AVOID

Don't show details in moments when the PoV wouldn't notice them. For
example, a woman running for her life won't look at shop window displays.

Don't give 'maps' and 'floor plans'—the reader probably doesn't need to
know that the tower stands sixty feet to the northwest of the gatehouse and
that the calendar hangs diagonally across the room from the grandfather
clock.

Don't go overboard with details. If you use too many, the reader starts to
skip. Choose the most evocative ones. If you want to use more, insert them
in different parts of the scene, instead of in one big chunk.
ASSIGNMENTS

1. Think of five details the PoV of your current scene might notice. Choose
the two or three most revealing ones, and insert them.

2. Go to a place—perhaps somewhere you need to go anyway, such as the

supermarket and the laundrette—and keep your eyes open for telling
details. Write them down and file them in your Setting Descriptions Bank.
CHAPTER 7: SIMILES FOR WORLD BUILDING

Describe something by comparing it with something else, and you have a

simile. This is a powerful method, because it accomplishes more than just a
description. If done well, it reveals something about the PoV's world. Good
similes are original, creative, clever and sometimes funny.

HOW AND WHERE TO USE THIS TECHNIQUE

The easiest way to form a simile is with the word ‘like’.

… looks like…
…. sounds like….
… smells like ….
…tastes like …
…. moves like ….
... feels like…
… shaped like…

For example:
The thunder sounded like a giant ripping sheet.
The sky looked grey like bed sheets that had been boil-washed with dirty
socks.

Another possibility is using ‘as…as’:

…as tall as…
…as fast as…
… as small as…
… as pretty as…
… as dark as …
… as loud as…

You can also use ‘than’:

… taller than…
… more commanding than…
… smaller than…
… darker than …
… louder than…
Sometimes ‘as if’ works well for imaginative similes:
The storm sounded as if someone was slapping wet sheets against the wall.

There are many other ways of constructing a simile. Consider:

… the shape/size/colour of...
...reminded her of…
...reminiscent of...
… enough to…

Compare something in your fiction world with something else from your
fiction world, not with something from your own world. If you want to
show your reader what the mountains on Planet Alpha Psi look like, don't
say they're similar to the Alps, or to the Rocky Mountains (unless your PoV
is familiar with the Alps or the Rocky Mountains).

Choose something from within the novel's world. This strengthens the
world-building, giving the reader additional rich information about that
world, its period and its attitudes.

Examples:

The structure rose as high as the Eiffel Tower.

The structure rose as high as the new tower in Babel.
The structure rose to several times the height of a ship's mast.
The structure rose as high as the new control tower on the Alpha Psi port.

The place was as crowded as a mosque on Saturday.

The place was as crowded as the amphitheatre when Christians fought to
the death.
The place was as crowded as McDonald's on a Saturday afternoon.
The place was as crowded as Oxford Street during the January sales.

If possible, choose something that's specific to your PoV's experience.

When your PoV encounters something unfamiliar, compare it with
something that's familiar to him. This tells the reader a lot about the
character's thought processes and background.
This can work well to reveal backstory. These examples reveal something
about social background and family:
….as big as her parents' tennis court....
… smelled like the dormitory at the orphanage...

Similes drawn from the PoV character's job work well. For example, if she's
a musician, you can
use many similes about things sounding like music, or being shaped like
musical instruments:
...shaped like a giant harp...
… squealed like a tortured violin...
If your PoV is a historian, use similes related to history:
… as solid as a Norman stone castle
… as ordered as a Roman legion camp...
If your PoV is a stay-at-home parent, use similes based on parenting:
The items lay strewn on the carpet, as if a pre-schooler had been playing
with them.

You can use similes anywhere in your story, but it's best to space them out.
Use no more than one or two in a paragraph, unless they're thematically
related.

In some fiction genres (such as thrillers), creative similes have become a

popular tradition, and readers expect them as part of the reading pleasure.

PROFESSIONAL EXAMPLES

The plants filled the place, a forest of them, with nasty leaves
like the newly washed fingers of a dead man. (Raymond Chandler: The Big
Sleep)

After the darkness of the storm, the building was unnaturally bright, like a
television set with the colour turned up too much. (Anthony Horowitz:
Granny)
Time seeped away like oil from a leaking jar. (Rayne Hall: Storm Dancer)

Bare twigs scrape against each other like dry, bony fingers. (Jeni Mills: The
Buried Circle)

Behind high walls and the evergreen foliage of their gardens, the ugly white
façades of several sizeable villas shone through the dark like the faces of
the dead. (Jonathan Stroud: The Amulet of Samarkand)

Aberdeen Royal Infirmary was spreading like a concrete tumour. For years
it'd been in remission, but lately it had started to grow again, infecting the
surrounding area with new wings of concrete and steel. (Stuart McBride:
Cold Granite)

Following the stifled cries and the soft thump, silence sifted down like
snowfall. (Dean Koontz, Intensity)

The front gardens looked like well-tended family graves planted up with
evergreen shrubs, rhododendrons and annuals. (Monika Feth: The
Strawberry Picker)

... the light of the westering sun was flooding into the cell, splashing like
quivering golden water on walls and ceiling. (Rosemary Sutcliff: The Eagle
of the Ninth)

Across the sea, black shadows race like chariots. (Gene Wolfe: Soldier of
the Mist)

... upstairs, the carpets are as bald as the head of an Ottoman eunuch.
(William Dalrymple: From the Holy Mountain)

The room sets me on edge, like a dentist's waiting room, or the room where
you wait before a job interview—for a job you don't want. (Kathy Lette:
How to Kill Your Husband and Other Handy Household Hints)
MISTAKES TO AVOID

Avoid similes in common use (as dull as ditchwater, as dead as a doornail)

because these clichés make your writing hackneyed and shallow.

Don't cluster several similes into a paragraph unless they're drawn from the
same theme. A simile about cookery followed by one about warfare and
another about competitive sports is disorienting for the reader. However, a
paragraph with several similes about cookery, or about warfare, or about
competitive sports can have real power.

Don't use similes outside the PoV's experience. If the PoV is a child living
on the edge of the Sahara desert, he won't think that anything looks like a
blanket of snow, and the Roman legionary won't be reminded of the sound
of a machine gun.

ASSIGNMENTS

1. For the next few days, try to think in similes. Whenever you visit a place
where you don't normally go, look around you and describe the things you
see with similes. If you feel creative, you can also describe sounds and
smells with similes, although this is more difficult. Compile at least five and
add them to your Setting Descriptions Bank.

2. Choose a scene you want to write or revise, preferably one where your
PoV is new to a place where she has not been before. See the setting
through her eyes. What do the shapes, colours and movements remind her
of? Write one or two sentences to insert into your scene.
CHAPTER 8: SYMBOLS FOR THE LITERARY TOUCH

Here's a trick for giving your novel a subtle literary touch—symbolism.

When something in the setting reflects something of the story's deeper
meaning, it becomes a symbol. This is useful if you want your readers to
get a lasting impression of your book, not just momentary entertainment.

HOW AND WHERE TO USE THIS TECHNIQUE

Symbolism is an advanced technique. Skilled writers can use it deftly, but if

you're new to fiction writing, it's best to apply it with a light brush.

You may want to try these two approaches and see which of them suits you
best:

1. Consider your novel's theme and create symbols to reflect it.

What items in the setting might be symbols for the theme? Describe these
items in more detail than other parts of the setting, and show them
repeatedly in different ways. Let's say your novel's theme is 'ambition'.
What might symbolise this—perhaps a tall office block? You could show
such a building repeatedly in your novel. Perhaps in one scene it towers
over the townscape, in another its glass front gleams like diamonds, while
in a third it gets battered by storms. If it suits the plot, you could even show
the building getting built or demolished.

2. Consider the types of setting in your novel, and use them as symbols.

Is there any kind of setting which occurs more than once in your novel?
Perhaps several scenes are set in kitchens: Grandma's cosy kitchen, a fast
food restaurant kitchen, and the kitchen of an army camp. Or perhaps there
are several bridges: Golden Gate Bridge, a railway bridge, and a Japanese-
style bridge across a koi pond in the garden. Or several baths: the tin tub
with lion's feet from your protagonist' s childhood, and a hammam steam
bath during a holiday in Turkey, and the
barrel of dirty water serving the washing needs of forty desperate refugees.
Whatever recurring setting element you've picked, take a few minutes to
brainstorm what it might mean, what kind of symbolism it might have.
Freewrite ideas on paper, look up a chart of magical correspondences,
search it on the internet, or ask your writing buddies for ideas.

Here are some examples what settings could stand for:

Kitchen = home, warmth, nourishment, family, mother, childhood, centre,
safety
Bath = cleanliness, cleansing, ethnic cleansing, washing away guilt,
innocence, denial, shedding the past, renewing oneself, relaxing,
purification
Bridge = communication, overcoming obstacles, linking separate elements,
making connections, bridging gaps between ideologies, healing breaches

From your list of ideas, pick the one which resonates with your story,
something which has meaning in the context. Find a way to connect the
symbolism with the plot. This will probably be easier than it sounds. The
symbolism may already be there, so you merely need to add a few details or
to tweak a sentence to emphasise it.

It's not necessary to spell out the symbolism, or for the characters to be
aware of it. It's probably best if it's not spelled out. Keep it subtle.

You can have more than one symbol in a novel.

If you write literary fiction, you may want to use this technique a lot. Do it
skilfully, and it will make literary reviewers drool. It's the kind of thing
which leads to essay assignments: 'Discuss the theme of bridges in the
novel ZZZZ by XX YY' and 'Compare and contrast the symbolism of
kitchens and baths in ZZZZ'.

In other genres, it's best to apply this technique so lightly that the reader is
not consciously aware.

MISTAKES TO AVOID
Don't force symbolism on your story if it doesn't feel right.

ASSIGNMENTS

1. Identify one type of setting that recurs. Create a list of possible symbolic
meanings.

2. Expand your descriptions for those settings to make them more

interesting and significant.

3. What is your novel's theme? How can you use setting to symbolise an
aspect of it?
CHAPTER 9: THE QUANTITY PROBLEM

Setting descriptions make a scene vivid in the reader's mind—but they can
also bore the reader more than any other part of the narrative. Many readers
skip those paragraphs.

What can you do about this? The solution: make your setting descriptions
short and compelling.

Quality and quantity both matter. You need to describe the setting in a way
which keeps the reader hooked, and to keep the descriptions so short that
the reader won't skip them.

WHICH WEAKNESS IS YOURS?

The 'quantity problem' comes in three variations.

Too Little?

Many writers use nearly no setting descriptions. As a result, their scenes

seem to take place in 'white space'. The reader can't see anything and
doesn't feel like she's there.

Too Much?

Other writers put great effort into writing lengthy setting descriptions—
which the readers skip in order to get on with the story.

A Dump in the Front?

A common weakness of new writers is to describe the setting in detail at the

beginning of the scene, and not to mention the setting again for the rest.
This leads to readers skipping the early paragraphs and then not feeling
connected with the place.

PUT YOUR WRITING TO THE TEST

Take a scene you've written, preferably an advanced 'nearly-there' draft. If
possible, choose a scene where the novel visits a place not previously
described.

Find all setting descriptions. Highlight them—either with a marker pen on

paper or with the highlight function on your computer.

Also highlight all passing references to setting, which are not descriptions
but give a clue about the location. For example, in the wind tousled her
hair, 'the wind' is a clue that it's an outdoor location; highlight 'the wind'. In
she sank back into her chair, 'her chair' gives a clue about the setting;
highlight 'her chair'.

Look at the overall pattern. How are the highlights distributed over the
pages? Or do highlights come in big chunks? Maybe there's just one big
highlighted block at the beginning? Do the highlights dominate the middle?
Do you have no highlights at all?

This pattern gives you, at a glance, an unbiased visual assessment. It tells

you how to revise your setting.

The perfect scene has this pattern:

- highlights sprinkled all over the pages

- something highlighted within the first five sentences
- more highlights on the first page than elsewhere
- no long (100+ words) highlighted sections after the first quarter
- no very long (500+ words) blocks of unrelieved highlights anywhere

If the pattern of highlights in your scene differs from the ideal pattern,
consider revising it.

SOLUTIONS
How much is too much, depends on your genre and your chosen author
voice. Some authors have a terse writing style, and a brief descriptive
sentence here and there suits best. Others have a lush, descriptive style
where readers bask in the atmosphere of the fictional places. For those,
whole paragraphs may be devoted to description.

Either way, avoid long unrelieved stretches of description. Break up the

descriptions and insert small pieces throughout the scene.

If You Have Too Little

If your setting descriptions are too sparse, flesh them out by inserting
sentences about background noises (see Chapter 2) and the weather (see
Chapter 5).

If You Have Too Much

If your setting descriptions are too long, shorten them. Keep only a few
particularly evocative sentences and drop the rest. Often it's possible to
simply tighten the description, deleting unnecessary detail (we usually don't
need detailed floor plans) and removing excess wordage so that every word
contributes to a picture.

If you have large chunks of descriptions and then long sections without,
split the descriptions into several smaller parts and distribute them
throughout the scene.

Integrate the setting descriptions into the action by letting the characters
interact with the environment.

No Rules

Your scene doesn't need to follow the 'ideal pattern' precisely. Every story is
different, and every author has their own voice. Treat the 'ideal pattern' as a
guideline, not a rule.
The trick is to make the setting descriptions brief, but powerful. Strong
setting descriptions need only a few words to convey strong images. A
powerful 30-word description of the setting is going to be more interesting
and has more impact than a 300-word description.

ASSIGNMENT

1. Analyse a scene as above. You may want to repeat the experiment with
other scenes you've written.

2. Take a novel in your genre, by a writer you admire. Analyse the book's
first scene in the same way. Does the pattern correspond to what I've
described as 'ideal'? If not, how does it differ? How well do you think the
author's distribution of highlights works?

3. If you belong to a critique group, apply the test to a scene from a

manuscript submitted by an inexperienced writer. You may find it easier to
assess someone else's writing than your own. Which of the three
weaknesses applies?

4. Now compare the three results—the professional author, the

inexperienced writer, and you.

When you compare the pattern of highlights of the admired author, and that
of the novice, which of the two is closer to what I described as 'ideal'? Does
the pattern you highlighted in your own scene resemble the professional
pattern, or the novice pattern?
CHAPTER 10: DEEP POV

Through whose eyes, ears and thoughts do you want the reader to
experience the scene? Show the setting from this character's perspective.

If ten people walk down the same road, all ten will notice something
different. Show the setting in the way this particular character would see it.

HOW AND WHERE TO USE THIS TECHNIQUE

When you visualise the place, pick not the details you would see, but the
ones the character would. This way, setting descriptions become part of the
characterisation.

Consider these factors:

Job

A character who spends day after day, year after year looking at everything
in a certain way will automatically assess everything in this manner, even in
his leisure time.

Strolling down a road, the architect sees a row of Victorian terraced houses
with bay windows, some with modern double glazing, some with rotting
window frames. The health and safety inspector walking down the same
road notices the overflowing rubbish bins and the dog turds steaming on the
pavement.

Hobbies

What stirs a character's interest? Most people immediately notice anything

related to their hobbies.

The animal lover sees people walking their bull terriers and a grey squirrel
sitting on a fence.
The hobby gardener sees neglected front gardens, overgrown with borage
and brambles, and front steps where potted geraniums have died from
neglect. The car enthusiast sees battered Citroens parked on the roadside.
The burglar observes that half the houses have intruder alarms and motion-
sensor floodlights.

Relationships

A mother sees the unsupervised children playing on the pavement, and

broken toys. A young man who has started to date a blonde who drives a
red Vauxhall, will see red Vauxhall cars and blondes everywhere.

Obsessions

What does your PoV character obsess about? You can convey his state of
mind through setting descriptions.

A local politician desperate to get re-elected observes how many voters

probably live in this road, and that potholes and defective street lighting are
likely concerns. A recovering drug addict struggling against his cravings
notices a smell of marijuana. A woman who is desperate to get pregnant
sees mothers pushing prams.

Dominant Sense

Is one sense especially acute in this character, either by nature or by

training?

Walking down a rainy road, a vision-oriented painter will see the spreading
circles on the surfaces of puddles, while a drummer will hear the rhythm of
the drops hammering on the car roofs.

Deepening the PoV

Leave out filter words which create a barrier between the PoV and the
reader: I/he/she/ saw/heard/smelled/noticed/could see/could hear/could
smell etc. Although these words are not wrong, they're not needed once
you've established who the PoV character of the scene is. It's best to use
them sparingly.

Here are some examples.

Shallow PoV: She heard a motor whine in the distance.

Deep PoV: A motor whined in the distance.

Shallow PoV: He realised that the hum came from a combine harvester.
Deep PoV: The hum came from a combine harvester.

Shallow PoV: He could see waves crashing against the shore.

Deep PoV: Waves crashed against the shore.

The deeper the PoV, the more powerful the reader's experience.

MULTIPLE PoVS

If your story has several PoV characters—perhaps changing with each

chapter—change your setting description style with the PoV. For example,
your heroine could have a strong sense of smell and notice flowers, textiles
and colours while your hero may have acute hearing and observe cars,
historical buildings and shapes.

MISTAKES TO AVOID

Don't describe a place the way you would see it.

If your story alternates between several PoV characters, don't let them see
their surroundings in the same way.

ASSIGNMENTS
1. Who is the PoV of the scene you're writing or revising? What might he
notice most, given his job, hobbies, obsessions and dominant sense? Write a
sentence about this.

2. Check your scene draft to see if you can delete any unnecessary saw,
heard, smelled, sensed/could hear, could see, could smell, could sense and
similar phrases.
CHAPTER 11: OPENING SCENES

Two hundred years ago, leisurely openings with detailed setting

descriptions were popular. Authors could describe a landscape over several
pages before introducing the character or starting the plot. Modern readers
have less patience. They want to get to the exciting part fast.

You can still start your story with a description of the setting—indeed, this
can be one of the most effective openings—but you need to make the
setting description part of the story. The reader must feel that events are
already underway.

Alternatively, begin with something else—dialogue or action perhaps - and

insert small clues about the setting.

HOW TO USE THIS TECHNIQUE

Show the setting through the eyes of the PoV character. Make it clear as
soon as possible (probably in the first two paragraphs) who the PoV is, why
he's in this place, what he wants, and how the setting affects him and his
goal.

Let the character interact with the setting. He may walk, work or search
something there.

Similes are a useful technique for opening scenes. By comparing something

in the setting with something from the PoV's background you can tell the
reader something about this character in a quick and subtle way. (See
Chapter 7.)

Introduce the conflict and start the action soon (on the first page, if the story
allows it) and try to weave the description and the action together.

If you start with the setting, choose a location which is unusual, to make the
reader curious. It should also be characteristic of your novel, because the
beginning makes a promise to the reader: “This is the kind of experience
you'll get if you read this book.”

Interesting weather—heavy fog, icy wind, pouring rain, blistering heat—

can help the reader identify with the PoV character's experience from the
start.

When you start your story with something other than the setting, insert
some clues about the location early on, to avoid the feeling of 'white space'.
Background noises (see Chapter2), light effects (Chapter 3), smells
(Chapter 1) and the weather (Chapter 5) provide useful clues without taking
up much space.

PROFESSIONAL EXAMPLES

Here are examples of novels starting with the setting.

Cassius Quintius Corbulo nudged his horse towards the side of the alley,
taking them both out of the glare of the bright morning sun. (Nick Brown:
The Siege)

Snowflakes dazzle against the evening sky and fall gentle around this stark
tower. (Susan Fraser King: Lady Macbeth)

Near winter's end, the man walked by the sea's edge. The sky was pale and
low and calm, the water almost still, like silvered mirror, and meeting the
pebbled beach, slow like cream. (Tanith Lee: When the Lights Go Out)

MISTAKES TO AVOID

Don't start the story with a long chunk of setting description without
character, conflict or action. Such an opening lacks a hook, and few agents,
editors or readers will bother to read on.
Avoid the beginning where a character drives/walks/rides through a
landscape, and along the way observes the fauna, flora and architecture of
the place, reflects on its social and political history, contemplates his
purpose and reflects on his life so far. Novice writers often start this way,
but it doesn't hook readers.

ASSIGNMENT

1. What happens in the first scene? What would be the best place where you
could set the scene—a location that's both unusual and typical for the
novel?

2. Write some sentences of setting description for this scene, including

sounds and smells. Write them from the PoV character's perspective.

3. Write or revise the first 500 words of your novel or story. Either focus on
the setting, and insert clues about the PoV character, his goal and the
conflict. Or focus on action, dialogue or something else, and insert clues
about the setting.

You may want to write several different openings, then choose the one with
the strongest potential to hook the reader.
CHAPTER 12: CLIMAX SCENES

The climax scene is the most exciting part of your novel. Enhance the
excitement by setting this scene in a dramatic place.

HOW TO USE THIS TECHNIQUE

Choose an unusual location—perhaps even one which is dangerous. How

about a derelict rollercoaster, a rainforest canopy, a sheer rock face, or an
abandoned mineshaft?

In a novel, the climax may happen in a place the MC has previously

avoided because it's so dangerous. Now he has no choice, because the
villain has imprisoned him there or because it's where he must go to save
the world.

You can also choose a location which is normally pleasant, and where the
MC has spent previous happy scenes. But at the novel's climax, something
terrible happens: the ship sinks. The skyscraper is on fire. The dam is about
to burst. The tide comes rolling in and threatens to sweep everything away.

This will enhance the thrill of the action.

Another way to layer the excitement of the climax scene is to add extreme
weather—a hurricane, a blizzard, a hailstorm. For ideas, see Chapter 5.

If you really want to grip your readers with a thrilling climax, think about
what your MC fears. Does she have a phobia of heights or of fire? Is she
terrified of snakes or of drowning? Whatever scares her, if she has
successfully avoided it during the novel, during the climax she must
confront this fear. The only way to survive and to rescue her loved ones is
to enter the burning building, to scale the cliff, to dive through the
submerged corridor or to jump into the snake pit.

MISTAKES TO AVOID
Don't choose a blandly pleasant setting for the climax, such as sunny
meadow or a comfortable restaurant.

If your MC has to confront a phobia during the novel's climax, don't

mention it for the first time in that scene. Mention it several times before, or
better still, show her successfully avoiding the danger.

ASSIGNMENTS

1. Think of the most exciting novels you've read and movies you've
watched. Can you remember the climax scenes and their settings? Were the
locations dangerous in some way?

2. Take the climax scene you have drafted for your novel and want to
revise, or think about the climax scene you want to plot. What would be an
exciting location? Could you enhance the drama or danger of the place?

3. Optional for thrillers, horror and other excitement-rich genres: What fear
does your MC have? In what kind of place will she be forced to confront
this fear?
CHAPTER 13: ACTION SCENES

When the story action is fast—for example, during chases and fights—the
writing needs to convey the speed. Setting descriptions are problematic
here, because they slow the pace.

When the PoV character is in a hurry, she won't pause to contemplate the
scenery, and when she's fighting for her life, she can't afford to divert her
attention to her surroundings.

Yet these scenes need setting—otherwise they happen in 'white space' and
don't feel real.

HOW TO SHOW THE SETTING WITHOUT SLOWING THE PACE

1. Establish the setting beforehand. If the reader is already familiar with the
terrain, you only need to mention items in the setting without describing
them.

2. Show only what the PoV character sees in this situation. These are
probably things nearby or relevant to her plans.

3. Let the PoV character move through the setting, and describe only what
she interacts with:
She groped her way along the icy wall.
Gravel crunched under his boots.
She raced down the darkened alley, past overflowing dustbins and graffiti-
sprayed façades.

4. Use the setting to create obstacles for the action. Make your characters
leap across walls, duck behind desks, skid on icy roads.

5. Use sounds to increase the excitement. They don't slow the pace the way
visuals do.

6. Use short words, and mostly short- to medium-length sentences. Avoid

words of more than three syllables and sentences of more than twenty
words.

7. Use powerful verbs and nouns to carry the description, and use few—if
any—adjectives and adverbs.

CHASES

During chases, the PoV pays little attention to the scenery, whether he is the
pursuer or the pursued. At the same time, the setting is crucial for these
scenes.

Here are some suggestions:

1. Describe what the ground is like. The running/driving/riding person

notices this, because it affects their progress.

2. Show obstacles—anything the character needs to leap across, scramble

up, duck under, cling to.

3. Mention the sounds of the chase, for example tyres squealing on the
tarmac, hooves clopping on the cobbled street, boots thudding on the
concrete.

4. The pursued may scan what's before him to identify an escape route or a
hiding place.

5. Show the setting as part of the character's movements and endeavours,

not in static descriptions.

6. Don't describe colours and light effects, or use similes in chase scenes.

7. Use short words, especially vivid verbs and nouns. As far as possible,
avoid long words, long sentences, and adverbs.

FIGHTS
Many writers find fight scenes challenging to write. Choosing an interesting
location—a place where the reader wouldn't expect a fight to happen—
helps make the fight scene memorable.

How does the space affect the fighting? Perhaps the ceiling means the
fighter can't swing his sword as high as he's accustomed to, or the spiralling
staircase gives the right-handed attacker almost no room to swing his
sword. Maybe a fighter leaps onto the bar, or smashes his opponent into a
wall. Find a way to incorporate the setting into the fight.

Few terrains are even. If there's a slope, then the fighter who stands higher
up has the advantage over his opponent below.

What's the ground like? This will affect the fighting. Will the fighters' feet
sink into the soggy morass? Will they slip on iced-over asphalt? Does the
clay soil of the freshly-ploughed field cling to their boots and slow their
moves? When your PoV falls, does he land on hard concrete, on a silken
rug, or in inch-deep manure?

Describe the setting before the action starts. Once the fighting is underway,
your MC can't afford to take his attention off the fight for even a moment,
so any setting description during the fight would feel unnatural.

MISTAKES TO AVOID

Don't pause the action to insert setting descriptions.

During a battle, don't let your PoV character know how his comrades on the
side of the battlefield are faring. He is too occupied to look.

ASSIGNMENTS

1. Select a scene in your WiP where the action is fast. Think of several parts
of the setting which can become part of the action.
2. Write sentences in which your MC interacts with the setting during this
scene—for example, he leaps across a fence or scales a cliff face.

CHAPTER 14: SPOOKY, SCARY, SUSPENSEFUL SCENES

Setting descriptions are perfect for creating a spooky atmosphere and

making your reader bite her nails with suspense.

Here are some techniques you can use:

1. To make a scene spooky or scary, dip the place in near-darkness. It's a

deep-seated human instinct to be nervous in the dark, and as writers, we can
play with that. Perhaps you can choose a dark location, such as a forest at
night or an unlit cave. You could also let the campfire burn down, the torch
battery go flat, a power cut turn off all lights, or the wind blow out the
candle. Darkness reduces the vision, so use the other senses more,
especially the sense of hearing.

For ideas how to describe a night-time setting, see Chapter 16.

2. To create a sense of unease and foreboding, mention and describe

shadows. Show how the shadows creep along the walls, how they swallow
the bright details, how they reach like tentacles into the room. Shadows are
also great if you want to evoke an eerie, spooky mood.

3. Moving, flickering, disappearing and reappearing lights also add to a

spooky effect. Describe the way the candle flickers or the way clouds ghost
across the moon.

4. Sounds create excitement, and can intensify a feeling of danger and fear.
If you want to make a scene be spooky, suspenseful or scary, insert many
descriptions of sounds throughout that scene. For ideas, see Chapter 2.
5. Similes are a great way to build foreboding, long before the bad thing
happens. Use similes to compare something innocuous in the landscape
with something ominous. See Chapter 7 for suggestions.

6. The colours red and black strike a chord deep in the reader's
subconscious, evoking primal instincts of danger. Consider showing red and
black items in the surroundings, and if possible describe these colours
creatively. See Chapter 4.

7. To ratchet up the suspense, let the character enter through a door on the
way to danger. To the reader's subconscious, this represents a final barrier,
the last chance to stay safe. Describe the door in one or several sentences—
for example its appearance, how the doorknob feels in the character's palm,
and what it sounds like when it opens.

8. If you plan to record your story as a podcast or audiobook, or if you plan

to give public readings, use euphonic effects: 's' and 'ee' sounds create
spookiness, while 'ow' evokes foreboding and 'oo' doom.

10. Changes in temperature can intensify tension, suspense and fear. A

gradual drop in temperature is most effective, but intense heat can also
bring matters to a boiling point.

11. At the beginning of the scary scene, add hints of danger... a barbed wire
fence, a sign ‘Warning. Keep Out’.

12. Use the setting to isolate the characters from any help: no mobile phone
reception in the valley, steep cliffs which can't be scaled, a river infested
with crocodiles, a flood that has washed away the boats, snowdrifts
blocking the road.

13. Use the weather (see Chapter 5) to increase the isolation further. The
character can't leave the cave or the hut because there's a snowstorm raging
outside. She can't cross the river because the bridge has collapsed, and she
can't light a signal fire because the wood won't burn in the torrential rain.
MISTAKES TO AVOID

Don't tell the reader that the place is spooky/eerie/scary. Show it.

ASSIGNMENTS

1. Which of the thirteen suggestions could work for your scene? Select
several.

2. Write one to three sentences describing a door your character walks

through on her way to danger. This can be a conventional door, a garden
gate, a castle gatehouse, a trapdoor or whatever suits your scene.

3. What noises can be heard in this location? Write a sentence describing

one or several sounds.

CHAPTER 15: LOVE SCENES

In love scenes, the writer seeks to stir the reader's emotions. Make them feel
the PoV character's need, longing, tenderness, affection, desire, passion,
pain, hope or despair.

The setting can help rouse emotions and make the love scene memorable.

Consider a location that's unusual, dramatic, wild. What's the wildest part of
nature in that area? How about setting the scene on a windswept moorland,
or on a wave-lashed cliff?

If you place the love scene in a remote place, the fact that the two are the
only people around can create a bond between them that hadn't previously
existed, and it can also encourage confidences.
The outdoors can add to the romance of the situation. The vastness of open
space may emphasise the closeness of the couple.

Settings can force two people closer together than they would otherwise
choose to be, and a skilled writer can use this for the plot. Perhaps two
people who dislike each other are trapped in a small air pocket in an
earthquake-collapsed building and must cooperate to ensure their survival,
or two strangers shelter from a hurricane in a cave that's so small they can't
avoid touching.

For an important love scene, especially if it's in the final third of the novel,
a danger-filled setting works well. Perhaps the pair are standing on the deck
of a sinking ship, or sheltering in a feeble hut that may get swept away any
moment by the violent gale.

The weather serves well to magnify emotions. Even something simple, such
as a sudden downpour drenching the characters, adds interest. For ideas, see
Chapter 5.

Think cinematically. What kind of setting would look awesome in a movie?

Perhaps the lovers watch as flames engulf their ancestral home, or they
stand on the roof of a tall building gazing down on the night-lit city, or are
climbing a craggy rock face surrounded by majestic mountains.

Love scenes can also have a 'tame' setting, such as a cosy cabin with a deep-
pile wool rug in front of a crackling log fire, where the aroma of coffee
mingles with the scent of wood resin. This works especially well if the
characters have just survived a dangerous adventure, and you want to give
them (and the reader) a short rest before you put them through the next
ordeal. Use the setting to create pleasant sensations for several senses—
touch, taste, temperature and smell as well as vision and hearing.

If you use the 'Scene & Sequel' approach to structuring, you may want to
make the setting for the Scene part wild and for the Sequel cosy.
For erotic scenes, consider unusual settings. In real life, most people would
choose comfortable, safe, private spaces to have sex. In fiction, you can
spice up your scene by doing the opposite. What's a weird space? Could it
be slightly uncomfortable? Is it a semi-public space where they might get
spotted at any moment?

In the grip of passion, a couple may have sex before reaching the bedroom.
Some couples may deliberately choose an unromantic and uncomfortable
venue for their tryst, such as the dungeon beneath a castle ruin, while others
may have sex in the boss's office or an aeroplane because they get a thrill
from the risk of discovery.

They may be willing to put up with some discomfort, or find a way to be

comfortable—but keep it realistic. The action needs to be physically
possible in that space. Readers won't believe a threesome in an aircraft toilet
that has scarcely room for one passenger.

At the beginning of the erotic scene, use the setting to activate the reader's
senses for the hot action that's to come. Focus especially on the sense of
touch: what does the ruined castle wall feel like when the heroine leans
against it? How does the wind feel on her cheeks? The bed's satin sheets on
her breasts?

PROFESSIONAL EXAMPLES

The storm had ebbed a little, but the wind was still blowing a gale as they
stepped outside. Lynne pulled the hood of her jacket up over her head,
waiting at the bottom of the steps as Rhys locked the door of the boathouse
—he had kept his yellow oilskin coat on over his dinner jacket, the collar
turned up against the wind.

The waves were still pounding against the rocks below them, churning
around the bottom of the lifeboat ramp, where the boat was still tied up and
dancing on her ropes as she rode out the worst of the weather. Lynne
walked over to the rail, fascinated by the sheer power of the untamed
elements. The salt spray was stinging cold against her face, but she didn’t
care—it made her feel as if she were almost part of it, the wild turmoil of
the sea matching the turmoil of emotions in her heart. (Susanne McCarthy:
Her Personal Bodyguard)

It was a beautiful night. There was no moon; the sea was like black silk,
seamed by the white lacy froth of their wake, the sky was inky velvet
spangled with a million stars. She had never seen so many stars, the lofty
sweep of the milky-way curving down to the far horizon, invisible in the
darkness.

She leaned against the rail, gazing out at the sky. The cool night breeze
tugged at her hair, the only sound was the soft swish of the waves rushing
beneath the white hull. There was no land in sight, no other boats. With
only their running-lights showing, they were all alone on the vast empty
expanse of water. It was as if they were chasing the stars across the wide
Mediterranean Sea…
(Susanne McCarthy: Chasing Stars)

MISTAKES TO AVOID

Many novice writers think that romance can happen only in romantic
locations, and tenderness is only possible in gentle settings.

In romantic and erotic scenes, avoid unpleasant odours. Those are a turn-off
for the reader.

ASSIGNMENT

1. Choose a location for an important love scene you're revising, writing or

planning. What wild nature is nearby? In what quirky place could the action
develop? Can you surround the lovers with danger and drama? If this
doesn't suit your story, think of a cosy setting in which the characters can
feel comfortable and safe.
CHAPTER 16: NIGHT SCENES

Events during the night can be especially exciting, romantic or scary—but

you need to use a different approach to description.

Use different senses. In the dark or semi-dark, your PoV character won't see
much, so use the sense of vision less and the other senses more.

The sense of hearing is especially important. Insert several background

noises.

At night, most people's sense of smell becomes heightened, so you may

want to mention the scents and odours of the place. However, this depends
on the temperature. If the night is cold, the smells won't be as noticeable as
during a balmy evening. (See Chapter 1 for ideas how to use smells.)

If the scene takes place outdoors, show the weather and the temperature,
and show in detail how they affect the characters and the action. (See
Chapter 5.)

Any lights, whether nearby or faraway, will be noticeable at night, so

mention lights. Here are some ideas:

- car headlights
- street lamps (a row of them or a single one)
- lit windows in houses
- the glowing tip of a cigarette
- the stars (unless the sky is cloudy)
- the moon (full, waxing, waning, crescent, gibbous?)
- a campfire
- lanterns
- torches
- the hazy cloud of light above a distant city
- any appliances in use (a tablet, a mobile phone)
Describe the colour, quality and movement of the light. Use your full
creativity to come up with original, atmospheric descriptions. (See Chapter
3 for more ideas.)

In an indoors scene, mention drawn curtains. Show the soft glow of the
candles, the sparkles of the chandelier, the irritating flicker of the strip light.

Fear, danger, anxiety, uncertainty, are increased in the dark. By emphasising

the darkness, you can create suspense and fear. For more about this, see
Chapter 14.

PROFESSIONAL EXAMPLES

Here are some brief excerpts from night scenes.

A smear of harsher light in the lower left corner of the window was flung
from the faltering streetlamps of South Jackson. The light striated across
the cracked window, destroying even his memories of the blessed empty
darkness of true night. Sweet night of star-speckled skies and tree-breathed
air had been replaced by a crouching greyness that emanated from the city.
It came as much from the gutters and dumpsters as from headlights and
streetlamps.
(Megan Lindholm: The Wizard of the Pigeons)

The house was black on black, only a faint crooked line of stars where the
roof ended and the sky began. It seemed bigger and intangible, edges
blurring, ready to dissolve into nothing if you came too close. The lit
windows looked too warm and gold to be real, tiny pictures beckoning like
old peep shows (…) The a cloud skated off the moon.... (Tana French: The
Likeness)

The squat was halfway down a terrace of abandoned two-storey buildings—

dirty granite walls barely lit by the dull streetlights, windows covered with
thick plywood. Except for one on the upper floor, where a thin, sick-looking
light oozed out through the dirty glass, accompanied by thumping dance
music. Rosie Williams died the way she’d lived: ugly. Lying on her back in
the cobbled alley, staring up at the orange-grey night sky, the drizzle
making her skin sparkle, gently washing the dark red blood from her face.
(Stuart McBride: Dying Light)

They stepped out into the predawn gloom, lit only by the diffuse glow of city
lights. Shining her flashlight, Jane saw a plastic table and chairs,
flowerpots of herbs. On a sagging clothesline, a full load of laundry danced
like ghosts in the wind. (Tess Gerritsen: The Silent Girl)

Outside it is a moonlit night. But the moon, being past the full, is only now
rising over the wilderness of London. Everything is still. Still in gardens
and parks, still upon smoky hills and highways, still upon steeples and
towers, and trees with a grey ghost of bloom upon them. (Carol Hedges:
Honour & Obey)

MISTAKES TO AVOID

Beginner writers often fail to create a convincing night-time experience

because they don't use the senses enough. Remember to use the senses of
hearing, touch, smell and temperature, as well as other senses, such as taste,
if relevant to the context.

ASSIGNMENTS

1. Go out at night—perhaps to a place that resembles a location in your

WiP, or somewhere bizarre. If you dare, visit a cemetery at midnight, or
walk through a rough neighbourhood. For your safety, you may want to
bring along your dog or an understanding friend. But even your own back
garden can yield interesting material. Absorb the lights, smells and noises
of the place. Collect as many observations as possible and add them to your
Setting Descriptions Bank.

2. Imagine the location of your night scene. What smells might the PoV
character notice? How does the ground feel underfoot? What noises can be
heard in the background? Write five sentences about the setting that don't
involve the sense of seeing, and sprinkle them throughout your scene.

CHAPTER 17: OUTDOOR SCENES

If your scene takes place outdoors, the location can enrich the plot. The
characters may appear or feel small in the vast landscape, helpless,
overwhelmed and lost. Nature—sometimes unpredictable, sometimes
inevitable—shapes events.

Outdoors settings often work well for quests (e.g. the hero must find the
hermit who lives in the forest), explorations (e.g. the archaeologists
excavating an ancient temple), searches (e.g. the police team with dogs
searching for a body in the woods), love scenes (e.g. the doomed lovers
meet on the windswept moor), and battles (two medieval armies clash in the
blistering desert heat).

For an outdoors scene, make sure you involve the weather, and show how it
affects the characters and the actions. Which direction does the wind come
from? How strong is it? What's the temperature like? Does the rain hit the
PoV from the front or from behind? For more ideas how to use the weather,
see Chapter 5.

What does the sky look like? Describe its colour—if possible in more
imaginative ways than 'blue' or 'grey' and the pattern of clouds. Be creative,
because descriptions of the sky can serve to establish the PoV's mood and
may even foreshadow events.

Where does the sun stand in the sky—in what direction, and how high?
How bright or sparse is the sunlight? How sharp and how long are the
shadows? What hue does the sunlight give to the surroundings—does it gild
everything with a warm glow, does it create stark contrasts? The location of
the sun and the quality of the sunlight not only conjure atmosphere, but give
clues to the season and the time of the day.

What's the ground like? Is the asphalt dotted white with seagull droppings,
or black with old chewing gum? Are the paving-slabs cracked, lichen-
encrusted or worn smooth? What sounds do the PoV's footsteps make? Is
the lawn shorn short, or tangled with weeds? Is the ploughed field so soggy
that clumps of clay soil attach themselves to the walker's boots, or is it
baked hard in the dry heat?

In urban locations, what kind of rubbish lies on the ground—empty beer

cans, used condoms, or apple cores? What kind of graffiti are sprayed on
the walls?

How are the lawns and gardens kept? Do tulips stand in orderly rows, or do
weeds choke the gardens? What are the weeds—brambles with their thorny
tentacles, sycamore seedlings plotting to turn the garden into a dense wood
in a few short years, or dandelions cheerfully resisting the gardener's strict
regime?

What kind of trees grow in the place? Pines, pears or poplars? Are they
winter-bare, verdant with young leaves, laden with fruit, or gilded with
autumn? Tall or dwarfing, sparse or lush, stunted from continued severe
winds or crippled by an overzealous gardener's pruning shears?

What sounds are created by the environment? Cars

humming/roaring/whining past?
Leaves rustling overhead? Twigs breaking as an unseen animal steps on
them? The outdoors is never completely silent. If you want to emphasise a
sense of silence, do it by describing a faraway noise (for example, the
distant howl of a coyote).

What animals can be seen or heard? Dogs splashing in the brook, a cat
lazing on the low wall, or an owl hooting in the distance? Do birds twitter,
chirp, screech?
Outdoor scenes need smells, unless it is very cold. What does the air smell
of? Bonfire smoke? Lilies in bloom? Freshly mowed grass? Petrol fumes?

PROFESSIONAL EXAMPLES

As I walked towards home the streets became clamorous, with traders'

cries, hoofbeats and harness bells. A small black dog, his fur clinging in
spiked clumps barked madly at me as I passed a baker's shop. (Lindsey
Davis: The Silver Pigs)

The light from the yet unrisen sun flowed softly gold and rose between the
long blue shadows of the village houses and across the fields and
hedgerows full of birdsong. (Margaret Frazer: The Midwife's Tale)

Merida marched fast, pretending to have a purpose. Darkness fell fast, and
nothing remained of the day except lingering heat. The inn near the bridge
had a huge canine painted on its façade, next to a sign promising Darrian
Dansers Evry Night, complete with a drawing of a female torso with
unrealistic curves. The clacking steps of spear-armed guards drove Merida
into the inn's courtyard where camels slurped from a trough. A smell of
jasmine was even stronger than the reek of animal sweat and dung. Torches
waved their yellow flames in the descending gloom. (Rayne Hall: Storm
Dancer)

On the thirteenth of April in the year 1785 I was sitting in a ditch in

Derbyshire, convinced I was dying. The ditch was unremarkable: a straggly
hawthorn hedge behind, a damp stony bottom full of the usual crawly
things, a fringe of grass in front and beyond that the rutted road. (…) On a
hawthorn twig above my head the robin, careless of my probable fate, sang
his song to the patch of blue sky that showed between the heavy clouds
moving away to the east. (Mary Brown: Playing the Jack)

When I landed on top of a lamppost in the London dusk it was peeing with
rain. This was just my luck. I had taken the form of a blackbird, a sprightly
fellow with a bright yellow beak and jet-back plumage. Within seconds I
was as bedraggled a fowl as ever hunched its wings in Hampstead. Flicking
my head from side to side I spied a large beech tree across the street.
Leaves mouldered at its foot—it had already been stripped clean by the
November winds—but the thick sprouting of its branches offered some
protection from the wet. I flew over to it, passing above a lone car that
purred its way along the wide suburban road. Behind high walls and the
evergreen foliage of their gardens, the ugly white façades of several
sizeable villas shone through the dark like the faces of the dead. (Jonathan
Stroud: The Amulet of Samarkand)

MISTAKES TO AVOID

Don't write outdoors scenes without specific weather. They lack realism.

Don't forget to show the sun (or the clouds hiding the sun), the wind (even
if it's only a faint breeze) and the temperature.

ASSIGNMENTS

1. Go somewhere out of doors—take your dog for a walk in a municipal

park, or sunbathe on the beach, or have a cup of tea in a pavement cafe—
and observe the light, sounds, smells, wind, weather, ground and sky. Jot
down your observations and add them to your Settings Description Bank.

2. For the outdoors scene you want to write or revise, decide the location,
season, time of the day and weather. Write one sentence each about the
sunlight, ground, sky, weather and temperature, to insert into the scene.

CHAPTER 18: INDOOR SCENES

Indoor scenes are an opportunity for characterisation. By describing the

place, you can reveal a lot about the people who built and furnished the
place, or who inhabit and use it now, their purposes, habits, tastes and
personalities. Think of everything in the room as an extension of the
inhabitants’ character.

By showing relevant details, you give your PoV character—and your reader
—an impression of that person, perhaps even in ways you could not achieve
otherwise. For example, a homicide detective can learn about the murder
victim's personality and lifestyle by taking in details of his living quarters.
A potential investor can draw conclusions about how well the business is
run.

As soon as the PoV character enters a new room, show what the place
smells of, mentioning one or several characteristic odours. (See Chapter 1.)
Then reveal a few visual details, but not many. Aim to capture the feel of
the place rather than give a full description. (See Chapter 6).

For interiors of any kind, describe the floor (wooden planks, bare concrete,
a threadbare carpet, ethnic rugs?) and the ceiling (any cracks, cobwebs or
patches of damp up there?) Is the furniture antique or modern, hand-crafted
or flat-pack, functional or ornamental, Spartan or ostentatious? What kind
of stuff is lying around—a piece of needlework in an embroidery frame, a
baby’s feeding bottle, unwashed plates, takeaway cartons, smelly socks?
What items are on display—travel souvenirs, status symbols, professional
certificates or sporting trophies? What books are on the shelves? Mention a
couple of titles—Das Kapital or The Geography of the Bible? Fifty Shades
of Grey or Huckleberry Finn? Do the houseplants have glossy green leaves,
or are they brown and brittle with neglect, or infested with aphids?

For restaurant scenes, use description to make this an individual place, not a
generic eatery. A sentence listing several smells establishes what kind of
food they serve. Describe the surface of the tables—starched white linen,
shiny metal, cracked plastic or scarred wood? How are the menus
presented? Leather-bound books, laminated sheets sticky to the touch, or a
chalk board with spelling errors above the counter? What clothes do the
servers wear—jeans and t-shirts, black dresses and lace-edged aprons, or
miniskirts and cleavage-baring tops? Mention background noises—the hiss
of the coffee maker, the rattling of cutlery, the bubbling of hot grease. If
there's any music, mention the volume and style. You can also mention
snatches of overheard conversations.

When describing a workshop, office or factory, show the tools of the trade,
preferably in motion. Mention smells. Almost every workplace has its
characteristic smells—of resin, leather, wax, grease, diesel, disinfectant,
printer's ink, coffee. If work is underway, describe sounds—machines
rattling, hammers clanking, printers whirring, monitors beeping.

PROFESSIONAL EXAMPLES

Here are some excerpts where the PoV character gets an insight into the
people who live in these rooms.

Justin, sort of unexpectedly, turned out to have minimalist tastes. There was
a small nest of books and photocopies and scribbled pages beside his
bedside table, and he had covered the back of his door with photos of the
gang—arranged symmetrically, in what looked like chronological order,
and covered with some kind of clear sealant—but everything else was spare
and clean and functional: white bedclothes, white curtains blowing, dark
furniture polished to a shine, neat rows of balled-up socks in the drawers
and glossy shoes at the bottom of the wardrobe. The room smelled, very
faintly, of something cypressy and masculine. (Tana French: The Likeness)

As wealthy as he was, Donahue had depressingly pedestrian taste,

something that was apparent as soon as Jane walked into the house and
saw the bland pastel paintings hanging on the wall. They looked like mass-
produced landscapes for sale at every local shopping mall. Her escorts led
her into the living room where an enormous man, bloated as a toad, sat in
an extra-large armchair. (Tess Gerritsen: The Silent Girl)

Bobby walked deeper into the apartment, doing his best to scope out the
place while he had the chance. First impressions: small, cramped main
room leading to a small, cramped bedroom. Kitchen was about the size of
his bedroom closet, strictly utilitarian, with plain white cupboards and
cheap Formica countertops. Family room was slightly larger, boasting a
plush green love seat, oversize reading chair, and a small wooden table that
also doubled as a work space. Walls were painted a rich golden yellow. Two
expanses of enormous eight-foot-high window were trimmed out with
scalloped shades made from a sunflower-covered fabric.
As for any other features of the room, they were obscured by piles of fabric.
Reds, greens, blues, golds, florals, stripes, checks, pastels. Silk, cotton,
linen, chenille. Bobby didn't know a lot about these things, but he was
guessing there was about any fabric you could ever want somewhere in this
room. (Lisa Gardner: Hide)

Her room, like Ryan's, looked as if someone had strategically placed sticks
of dynamite in the drawers, blowing them open; some clothes sprawled
dead on the flour, others lay wounded midway, clinging to the armoire like
the fallen on a barricade before the French Revolution. (Harlan Coben:
Caught)

MISTAKES TO AVOID

Don't set your scenes in generic places, as if every living

room/factory/office was the same.

Avoid giving wordy descriptions showing everything in the room; instead

focus on revealing details.

Don't only rely on visual descriptions—mention sounds or smells.

ASSIGNMENTS

1. Focus on the personality of the person who lives or works in the room
you're about to describe. What kind of furniture and decorations would he
choose, and how would he arrange them? Is he likely to keep his room
meticulously tidy, or in slovenly disorder? Write a description of the place
with many details. Later, select the most revealing details to use in your
story.
2. Visit a place similar to the room where the scene is set, observe and take
notes. This exercise will probably yield a wealth of inspiring details you
could not have thought of. For a hospital scene, go to a hospital. For a
factory scene, go to a factory. If it's not possible or practical to go to the
kind of place you need, pick the nearest equivalent. For example, if you
want to write about an Anglo-Saxon alehouse, go to your local pub for a
drink.

CHAPTER 19: THE PICTURESQUE, THE BEAUTIFUL AND THE

SUBLIME

This chapter invites you to look at landscape from a new perspective—or

rather, an old one—and pass the impressions on to your readers.

People in the 19th century loved landscapes. Victorians demonstrated their

good taste by adorning their homes with landscape paintings. Sketching
landscapes was a popular pastime and an important accomplishment for
young ladies. Tour guides specialised in showing local beauty spots so the ladies and gents could
picnic there, and do some sketching, and maybe compose a poem or two.

These people saw attractive scenery in three categories—picturesque, beautiful, and sublime—and
they attached this mental label before they applied a brush to their sketchpad or thought of the first
line of a poem.

Thinking like a 19th century person may open up new vistas for your landscape descriptions.

PICTURESQUE

This is a scenery which entices through its harmonious composition. A 19th century person would see
this and think ‘this landscape would make a great picture’ or even ‘this landscape is a picture’. The
appeal is purely visual—sounds and smells are unimportant—and it doesn't have to be beautiful, just
interesting.

A picturesque landscape contains both natural and man-made elements, for example a meadow and a
farmhouse, a stream and a ruin, a lake and a sailing boat, a valley and a bridge.
A 19th century gentleman on a walking tour might come across a landscape of rolling hills, framed by
tall trees, with a rustic farmhouse in the middle background, and everything arranged in a
harmonious composition, and exclaim “How picturesque!” He would, of course, take out his
sketchpad to capture the view.

People were so keen on the picturesque that those with power and wealth changed the landscape. If a
view
was almost perfect, but the stream was too far on the left, they rerouted the stream. One could
not let nature spoil the picturesque.

Ruins could be picturesque, if they happened to be in the right spot. Since ruins seldom occurred in
the
right spot, in the right colour and shape, people built ruins. Everyone worth his wealth and fashion
had a 'ruin' on his land, picturesquely positioned of course, with colours and shapes complementing
the natural landscape. Fake ruins were big business in the 19th century.

BEAUTIFUL

This is a landscape or landscape feature which gives intense pleasure and satisfies the senses—and
not just the visual sense. Perhaps there's a pleasant flower smell, or pleasant birdsong, or the pleasant
tinkling of a stream... the emphasis is on 'pleasant'.

A beautiful landscape feature can be natural (a flowery meadow), or man-made (a garden, a temple).
It is often fragile, vulnerable, at risk, something which might get destroyed.

SUBLIME

A sublime landscape is all natural without man-made features, big, wild,

untamed, dangerous. Think of craggy mountains, gleaming glaciers, sheer
rock faces, icebergs, waves crashing against cliffs, rivers racing through
canyons, huge waterfalls, windswept moors.

The weather often enhances the sublime experience.

The sublime is not just visual but can be an experience for several senses,
so include sounds and smells, as well as temperature and touch.

The emotion created by the sublime is awe. It may also evoke fear, excitement or passion. The
viewer may or may not experience pleasure.

MISTAKES TO AVOID

If you write historical fiction set in the 19th century, don't ignore these labels. Your PoV character
won't be authentic unless he views the landscapes in those terms.

Don't make all the landscapes in your novel picturesque, or beautiful, or sublime. Alternate between
the three types, otherwise it can become boring.

When describing beautiful scenery, don't use the word 'beautiful' because to the modern reader, the
word doesn't have the same meaning and may seem dull.

ASSIGNMENTS

1. Is the landscape where you live (or near where you live) picturesque, beautiful or sublime? Where
is the nearest sublime feature?

2. Train your mind. Next time you go for a walk or a drive, watch out for any beautiful, picturesque
or sublime spots.

3. Does your WiP feature any landscapes? If yes, which landscapes could you describe as
picturesque, beautiful, or sublime?

CHAPTER 20: THE PASSING OF TIME

Setting descriptions are a great way to cue the reader about how much time
has passed.

You don't even need to write ‘After four hours’, ‘It was nine in the
evening’, ‘Six months later’—such statements are fine in official reports,
but boring in fiction. Simply show what has changed.

This technique works especially well to orient the reader at the beginning of
a new scene as to how much time has passed since the previous one.

Here are some suggestions.

HOURS HAVE PASSED

Show the sun in a different position in the sky. East or west? High up or
near the horizon?
The shadows have shortened or lengthened.
The sunlight has a different quality.
Character turns the lights on or off.
Character draws curtains against the evening chill or opens them to let in
morning sun.
The air grows cooler or hotter.

DAYS HAVE PASSED

Different weather. (For example: in the last scene, the roads were covered in
snow, now the gutters are overflowing with water.)
Work has progressed. (The neighbour's garden wall is now complete).
Plants have changed. (The daffodils were budding in the previous scene,
now they're in full bloom. Autumn leaves were yellowing, now they are
copper-brown.)

MONTHS HAVE PASSED

Different temperature.
Drastically different weather. (Where the sun previously boiled the tarmac
there's now an inch of snow.)
Seasonal changes in urban environments. (Shop windows show summer
fashions in one scene and glitter with Christmas decorations in the next.
Previously thriving lakeside souvenir shops are boarded up.)
Plants have changed. (Formerly verdant beech trees are now winter-bare.)

YEARS HAVE PASSED

Changes in the way buildings are used and treated. (The once-thriving
neighbourhood is dilapidated, the once spotless white walls are covered in
graffiti, and the once sparkling windows are smashed.)
New buildings and urban development. (The field where the cattle grazed is
now a shopping centre with a parking lot. The noisy building site is now a
sparkling new house.)
Changes in plants. (One scene shows rows of newly-planted saplings, the
next a mature forest in the same place.)

PROFESSIONAL EXAMPLES

Autumn dwindled into early winter, with the last ploughing done and the
sheep and cattle driven down from the farthest hill pastures. (Margaret
Frazer: Circle of Witches)

By then summer was nuzzling autumn's neck. The days seemed equally long
and hot, but towards dusk the air began to cool more quickly. (Lindsay
Davis: The Silver Pigs)

Hesta had come down the garden, to the brick wall at its end. On the way,
she had examined the leaning, ancient, winter-bare trees. (Tanith Lee:
When the Lights Go Out)

By the time Dahoud reached the arena, only a glimmering thread of

daylight remained. (Rayne Hall: Storm Dancer)
As the sun dipped below the horizon and their shadows stretched away from
them, the two riders reached the edge of the plain and turned south at the
base of the hills. (Nick Brown: The Siege)

ASSIGNMENTS

1. Compile a list of ideas how to show the passing of hours, months and
years. This list will come in useful for your future works of fiction.

2. Look at the scenes of your current WiP. How much time has passed
between one and the next? What change could you mention to give the
reader a sense of time?

CHAPTER 21: EFFECTIVE WORD CHOICES

Specific words paint a clear picture for the reader. They make your
descriptions vivid, and you convey a lot with very few words.

For example:

He walked down the tree-lined road, passing a woman with a dog in front of
a building.

This creates only a vague picture of the place and is boring.

With the same or similar number of words, you can create a specific picture
instead:

He ambled along the poplar-lined boulevard, passing a lady with a poodle

in front of a villa.
He strode along the avenue lined with cherry trees, past a tart with a
mongrel in front of a cottage.
He marched down the oak-lined cul-de-sac, passing a redhead with a
Rottweiler in front of a mansion.
He hurried along the palm-lined highway, past a Goth girl with a puppy in
front of a bungalow.

Use the most specific word you can think of. It will do the best job.

Here are some generic nouns to watch out for: road, street, house, building,
plant, tree, flower. These are so vague that they need an adjective to create a
picture: a small house, a tall tree. If you choose a specific noun, you may
not need an adjective.

The following adjectives are too generic to create a picture in the reader's
mind: beautiful, ugly, wonderful, awful, bad, nice.

VERBS MAKE YOUR WRITING VIVID

Setting descriptions are often sluggish or static, and they can slow the pace
more than the scene requires or even halt the flow altogether. The trick to
injecting life into a stagnant setting description is to use vivid verbs.

The most boring verb in the writer's toolkit is ‘be’ (is, was, are, were). Use
it as little as possible. Guard especially against sentences starting with
There is/was/are/were.

The following verbs are better, but still not great: move, sit, stand, lie.

Verbs are what creates your distinct author voice. Feel free to choose them
creatively, and don't feel restricted by convention. Pick verbs which shows
what something does.

When revising your draft, you may want to underline all verbs in your
setting descriptions, and replace them with the best possible ones.
Dull|:

There was a fortress on the mountain top.

So-so:

A fortress stood on the mountaintop.

A fortress sat on the mountaintop.

Vivid:

A fortress perched on the mountaintop.

A fortress sprawled on the mountaintop.
A fortress squatted on the mountaintop.
A fortress glowered from the mountaintop.
A fortress threatened from the mountaintop.
A fortress cowered on the mountaintop.
A fortress clung to the mountaintop.
A fortress guarded the mountaintop.
A fortress protected the mountaintop.

Dull:

There was a river in the valley.

A river moved through the valley.

So-so:

A river flowed through the valley.

A river ran through the valley.

Vivid:

A river meandered through the valley

A river raced through the valley.
A river slithered through the valley.
A river snaked through the valley.
A river pushed through the valley.
A river laboured through the valley.
A river roared through the valley.

Of course, these descriptions wouldn't fit every fortress, every river or every
story—but this is precisely what makes them so good.

The verb can convey not only what is there, but the PoV character's mood.
Examples:

Waves roared against the pebble beach.

Waves crashed against the pebble beach.
Waves slapped against the pebble beach.
Waves rustled against the pebble beach.
Waves caressed the pebble beach.
Waves teased the pebble beach.
Waves scraped the pebble beach.
Waves drenched the pebble beach.

This technique works especially well for landscape descriptions which

otherwise can feel static.

PROFESSIONAL EXAMPLES

In these sentences, professional authors have used creative verbs to bring

their setting descriptions to life:

…. towering mountains, PUSHING their dark peaks against the sky (Louis
L'Amour: Crossfire Trail)

In the summer dusk, a wild panorama of tumbling fells and peaks ROLLED
AWAY and LOST ITSELF in the crimson and gold ribbons of the western
sky. To the east, a black mountain OVERHUNG us, MENACING in its
naked bulk. Huge, square-cut boulders LITTERED the lower slopes. (James
Herriot: All Creatures Great and Small)
Thick ropes of runoff water SLAPPED noisily on the concrete before
COURSING in swift rivulets towards drainage gates. (Kevin Hearne:
Hexed)

The lane SLOPED upwards, too narrow for two people to walk abreast, just
a muddy track with ragged hawthorn hedges SPILLING in on both sides.
(Tana French: The Likeness)

Beyond the wall the country was flat on three sides—alkali dust and heat
weaves SHIMMERING over stubbles of desert growth—but to the east the
ground ROSE gradually, barren, pale yellow CLIMBING into deep green
where pinion SPROUTED from the hillside. (Elmore Leonard: Trouble at
Rindo's Station)

A heavy mist LAY on the dale, SWIRLING delicately round the edges of
buildings and BLANKETING the river. (Elizabeth George: A Great
Deliverance)

MISTAKES TO AVOID

Avoid overused phrases such as snow-capped mountains, sun-drenched

beach, East meets West, and where time stood still.

There was/is/are/were.. is one of the dullest phrases in the writer's toolkit.

Use it only if you can think of nothing better, and not more than once or
twice per book.

ASSIGNMENTS

1. Go through your settings descriptions, and replace generic words with

specific ones.

2. Visualise a landscape you want the reader to see, and think of verbs which will bring it to life.
Write a sentence or paragraph for it.
CHAPTER 22: WRITING ABOUT REAL PLACES

Setting your story in a real location—especially one near where you live—
brings big benefits.

ADVANTAGES

1. If you know the place well, the fiction oozes authenticity. Your story
feels so real to the readers that they will find it easy to suspend their
disbelief about other matters, such as paranormal creatures, alien invasions
and unusual human behaviour.

2. You don't need to spend time and effort on inventing locations, and can
put your creative efforts towards story plots and character development
instead.

3. You need to do little research, because you're familiar with everything,

and if there's something you don't know, you simply pop down the road, sit
in a park or coffee shop with your notebook and absorb the atmosphere.

4. When it comes to marketing your book, you have a huge advantage.

Normally, it's almost impossible for authors to persuade bookshops to stock
their books. But if the book has a local setting, bookshops are keen to get
the book, often give it a special display, and host special events such as
book signings and author readings. Even shops which sell other goods often
ask for the privilege of selling a book with a local setting. You may get your
book sold in souvenir shops, tourist information bureaux, museums, cafés,
grocers and delicatessens.

5. Local newspapers and radio stations which seldom feature books will
publish articles and broadcast interviews with the author.

6. Local organisations may invite you as a guest speaker or lecturer for

events and festivals.
7. Readers in that region or town are flattered and curious, so they buy the
book. They enjoy recognising the featured places, and tell their friends.
This word-of-mouth is the best publicity a book can get.

8. If you set book after book in this location, the setting becomes part of
your author brand, and you become the author who writes about so-and-so
county or such-and-such town. The resulting 'local celebrity' status helps
sell more books. Many writers have used this approach with great success
—just think of bestselling authors like Stephen White with his thrillers plots
in Boulder, Colorado, Stuart McBride who places his crime fiction in
Aberdeen, Scotland, and Stephen King who sets most of his novels in
fictional towns in the state of Maine.

CHOICES

You have three choices:

1. Write about the place exactly as it is or was, with its streets, restaurants,
public parks, and bad areas. This approach will earn you the greatest
approval from the locals, and garner most free publicity and events
invitations. However, it restricts what you can do with the plot.

2. Use the real town but invent a few roads, buildings and features. Or use a
real region and invent a town (as Stephen King did with the fictional town
of Castle Rock in the state of Maine). This option gives you a lot of
fictional freedom, but reduces the local publicity value.

3. Write about the place as it never was, but might have been, or might
become. This is a good option if you write Alternate History, Steampunk or
Science Fiction.

MISTAKES TO AVOID

Don't assume that a place has to be unfamiliar to you to be exciting to

readers.
Many newbie writers think they need to set their stories in New York. As a
result, publishers receive a glut of manuscripts with a New York setting,
many of them hackneyed and riddled with factual mistakes. Instead, make
your fiction stand out by setting it where you live, whether that's the
outskirts of Manila in the Philippines, a village in the Scottish Lowlands, or
a ranch in the American Midwest. Even if your home town seems
unglamorous to you, it will fascinate your readers in other parts of the
world.

Don't use a generic setting that could be anywhere and as a result lacks
character. Describe places which are either real, or so specific that they feel
real.

If using a real location, take care that you don't accidentally libel someone.
For example, if your novel features a mayor of XYZ town who takes bribes,
and a head teacher of a particular school molesting children, people may
think that the real mayor is corrupt. This can lead to problems for the mayor
—and also for you, because he may sue you for libel.

To prevent the fictional bad character from getting confused with the real-
life person, change not only the name but the age, gender, ethnicity and so
on. So if the real mayor of XYZ Town is a forty-something portly black
man, make the fictional corrupt counterpart a skinny white woman in her
seventies.

ASSIGNMENT

Consider if the story you're writing, or future stories you have in mind,
could take place in a real location near you. If yes, would you enjoy
creating several books with this setting and make it part of your author
brand? Would you use the real place as it is, or with fictional modifications?

CHAPTER 23: RESEARCH

The best research is your personal experience, especially if you wrote down
detailed notes.
Human memory is deceptive and will often recall only broad impressions,
instead of the revealing details the writer needs. Photos help, but they're
purely visual, and they only record what you thought significant at the time.
You probably have photos of the spectacular sunset and your lover's smile,
but not the lichen on the stone slabs and the graffiti in the alleyway.

Take a notebook wherever you go, whether it's a foreign holiday or a visit to
the dentist, and jot down observations—visual details, sounds, smells and
everything that evokes the atmosphere of the place. Even if you don't plan
to write a story set in this place, you may some years from now, and then
you'll be grateful for your notes.

To research places for your current book, try to tour those places in person.
If this is not possible, experience the ambience of similar places. For
example, your historical novel may be set in ancient Rome. While you can't
visit an authentic ancient Roman roadside tavern, you can survey a motel
and motorway restaurant, and adapt your observations to suit the story.

Books, websites and DVDs are great sources of information, but don't get
hung up on factual information. Sure, correct facts are important, but what
you really need is atmosphere, the small details which characterise the
place. Look for eyewitness reports (what did the ruins of their village look
like after the earthquake? What sounds were heard on the sinking ship?)
and travelogues (writers sharing their travel adventures with readers and
viewers).

Old National Geographic magazines and DVDs are a treasure trove for
writers, filled with both geographical facts and atmospheric details.

Ask other people. With the internet, it's easy to find someone who has
experienced the kind of place you want to write about. However, 'normal'
people may not understand what you're after, and simply assure you that a
place is 'magnificent, splendid, really great' or 'horrid, disappointing, don't
go there'. If possible, ask writers—they'll understand.
The internet allows you to connect with writers all over the world, via
social media and online writers groups. Ask them specific questions: “Has
anyone ever been in an abandoned mine shaft? Is it cold down there? What
noises can be heard?” or “What's it like to be in a horse stable at night?
Sounds, smells?” or “What does an approaching hurricane sound like?”

You may want to join the Writers Research Club. Membership is free. You
can ask as many questions as you like about any topic which will make
your story authentic. In return, you help writers who are asking about
matters within your experience. Here's the link:
[Link]

MISTAKES TO AVOID

Don't copy 'facts' from other works of fiction. Those authors may have got
it wrong, and mistakes get perpetuated this way.

Don't rely on what you think a place is like. Find out how it really is.

ASSIGNMENT

1. Do desk research for a scene you're planning or revising. Browse

websites with eyewitness reports or travelogues, watch YouTube videos,
ask members of your online writing group or post questions at the Writers
Research Club.

2. Get first-hand experience of a place you're writing about, or one of a

similar nature.

CHAPTER 24: BUILD A SETTING DESCRIPTIONS BANK

When you write a scene, you won't always have access to the real thing for
an authentic experience. You may have to write about a snow storm while
you sit in sweltering heat, or you may write in a mountain cabin and need to
write about an inner city tenement. It may be late evening and you want to
describe a village stirring to life at dawn.

In such situations it helps if you have a collection of setting descriptions.

Build a Setting Descriptions Bank from which you can draw any phrases
you need.

Jot down notes of all kinds of places and weather. You can do this when you
have time to kill—during a long train journey, in a boring meeting, or while
waiting at the dentist's. Keep a notebook with you wherever you go.

Whenever you visit a place you haven't been before, use it as an opportunity
to add to your Setting Descriptions Bank: during your summer holidays in a
foreign country, when you spend the weekend with your sister, or on a
business trip. This will yield a rich harvest of different places.

Your own home town or village can also provide a lot of material,
especially if you use it as the setting for your fiction (see Chapter 22). Even
if you don't set a story there, you can observe different seasons, times of the
day and weather conditions.

You can jot down whatever comes to your attention, but a systematic
approach yields most results. Here's a worksheet I've created so I won't
forget the most useful details. Feel free to use it as it is, or to adapt and
expand it for your needs.

You may want to save it on your tablet or keep a printout in your notebook.
If you need a printable doc file, email me at
rayne_hall_author@[Link].

WORKSHEET
1. General impressions of the place.

2. What noises are in this place? Try to find at least four. More are better.
Describe each, using verbs. Listen especially to background noises; these
characterise the place.

3. Two or more smells. Just list them; no need for description.

4. A small visual detail which most people would overlook but which is
somehow characteristic of the place.

5. A signpost, notice, advertising poster, framed picture, announcement or

warning sign (or several).

6. A brief description of the floor, ground or carpet.

7. A brief creative description of the ceiling or sky.

8. What's the weather like? How does it feel on the skin?

9. The source and quality of the light (where does the light come from?
How bright is it, what colour?) Aim to convey the mood/atmosphere of the
place. If appropriate, also include a sentence in which the light gives a clue
to the time of the day.

10. Something incongruous—something which seems out of place.

11. If appropriate, describe a person who is part of the setting (an attendant
or customer, perhaps). How is s/he dressed? How does s/he move? Watch
especially the posture, the facial expression and repeated movements.

12. If people are present, overheard snippets of conversation—just brief

phrases.

13. The colours of two things, creatively described.

14. One or several similes, comparing something in this place to something
outside the place. For example '... looks like...', '...sounds like...', '....smells
like....', '... as big as...', '... as if....', '... slower than....', '...reminds me of...'

15. A door. What does the door look like? How does it sound when it
opens? How does it sound when it closes?

16. A plant. (Flowers drooping in a vase? Brambles overgrowing the

garden? Tulips standing like soldiers in orderly rows? A shrub clinging to
the cliff face?)

17. An animal. (Dead fly on the windowsill? Fat spider dangling from the
ceiling? Owl hooting in the distance? Fat sheep grazing in the valley? Dogs
chasing one another?)

18. Touch. How something feels when you touch it with your hand. (e.g. is
the doorknob cold, warm, rough, smooth, sticky?)

19. Taste. Describe how something tastes—but only if it's relevant to the
setting, for example, when describing a pub or coffee shop.

20. Anything else.

EXAMPLES FROM RAYNE'S SETTINGS DESCRIPTION BANK

Living on the south coast of England, I have collected lots of descriptions

related to the seashore in every season and weather, including this one in
October:

The sea is low churning brownish grey topped with sheets of dirty froth. In
the distance, it looks blue-grey ruffled and streaked. During recent stormy
nights, the sea has thrown stones (rust, grey, near white) up on the
promenade, as well as driftwood (mostly fibrous, with all colour leached
out) some charred branches, twigs, short frayed pieces of neon-green nylon
rope and tangles of black bladderwrack. This debris lies mostly near the top
of the beach. Large bird feathers stick like bedraggled trophies or markers
out of the stones.

This is the same stretch of beach in August:

After weeks of cold weather, everyone comes out to grab the sunshine.
Londoners pour from their city down to the coast, crowding beach. They
stream along every path and road, carrying baskets and carrier bags and
life preservers and iceboxes and heavy parasol stands. Their boomboxes
thump out grating rhythms; apparently these people cannot bear the
majestic silence of the sea, with its soft-rustling waves and seagull chatter.
They wear wearing shorts and bare-shouldered dresses, platform-heeled
flip-flops in dark shades or sequinned flip-flops revealing lacquered toes.

The wind tugs at my hair and shirt. White shells dot the sand. The sand
under my bare soles is hard-ridged, damp, solid, but when I reach the
water's edge, it feels velvety soft. The water is cool as it sloshes around my
ankles. The tide is low. Small foam-crested waves glide towards me with
faint rustling sounds, one after the other, and caress my ankles.

These are my notes from a run-down internet café:

The computer makes a constant scratching sound like fingernails running

across a chalkboard. The mouse and keyboard feel sticky to the touch. On
the wall, pin-up photos of young girls in uncomfortable poses, splotches of
Blu-tack and drawing pins. The chairs run on castors; their lower parts are
black, scuffed and thick with dust.

The grey carpet with small red and yellowish-grey pattern. It's sprinkled
with crumbs and dark splotches, mended with broad blue sticky tape that
curls up at the corner. Some customers' blank shoes look shiny against the
dull dusty carpet.

When I visited a historic prison, now turned into a museum, I took these
notes about what it's like inside a cell:
The cell’s just wide enough to lie down and stand up in. The walls and
ceilings are mostly brick but with some timber. Timbers are carved with
prisoners' graffiti, including ‘Thomas Hall was put in jail December 1822’.
The floor looks like concrete, mottled and cracked. A small window,
recessed, squarish, with two vertical and two horizontal bars, opens into the
corridor. Since the corridor has no roof, some daylight enters through this
window. A wooden bed bench along the wall is topped with a metal sheet
which feels cold to the touch. A straw-filled hessian sack serves as a
mattress. In a corner stands a metal bucket. The door—black on the
outside, grey on the inside—moves noiselessly. At about the height of my
throat, there's a square flap opening outwards, presumably for the
prisoners' food. The flap squeaks when I open it; its knob rattles.

I have thousands of setting descriptions, and I refer to them frequently.

Whatever I need, I probably have something—if not exactly right, then
similar enough to adapt. My only regret is that I did not collect detailed
setting descriptions years ago when I lived and travelled in China,
Mongolia, Tunisia and Greece.

ASSIGNMENT

Walk down the road where you live, and answer the questions in the worksheet.

SAMPLE STORY

Here's one of my short stories, illustrating how I use setting descriptions in my fiction.
DOUBLE RAINBOWS

Gerard hurried down the spiral staircase of Sibyl's lighthouse, his shoes
clanking on the metal steps. The blue steel hands of his Rolex showed 8.13.
The tide had turned two hours ago, and he did not want to get his new boots
wet as he hiked home.
The steep chalk path from the promontory to the seabed was slippery
with smudge from the night's rain. The sea surface glinted like a diamond-
sprinkled sheet, and the air smelled of salty seaweed. In the distance, gulls
cackled and squealed.
His chest brimmed with pride at how well he had handled the situation.
Breaking to your girlfriend that you would marry someone else required a
delicate touch, especially if she was pregnant. At first, she had hurled
reprimands. Then she had demanded that he leave her home. But the high
tide already submerged the way out, and she had to let him stay the night.
After a lot of coaxing and consoling, her rants subsided to sobs. Gently, he
pointed out that as an artist, she was above conventions like monogamy and
marriage, and that single motherhood was all the rage. When he assured her
she would remain the love of his life, and promised to continue his Friday
night visits, she had stared at him in wide-eyed wonder. By morning, she
had clung to him with surprising passion.
Sibyl had amazing curves, flaming hair and a temper to match, vivid
imagination but little practical sense. She refused to sell the dilapidated
lighthouse to one of the wealthy buyers queuing for 'converted character
properties', insisting she loved living surrounded by sea. Isolated when the
tide rose twice a day, with only her paintings for company, she lived for
Gerard's weekly visits.
Driftwood, whelk eggs and cuttlefish bones littered the low-tide seabed,
and bundles of dark bladderwrack lay entangled like scorched spaghetti. As
he skirted around chunky boulders, the smell of fishy seaweed grew
stronger, wavering between fresh and foul.
Rust-brown shingle and splinters of flint crunched under his fast steps.
He had three miles to cover before the incoming tide wet his feet.
 In the east, the sun was already painting the sky a brisk blue, but in the
north, a curtain of silver-grey rain still veiled the view. A rainbow beyond
the promontory framed the lighthouse in bright glory. He squinted. Was that
a second rainbow emerging inside the large one? Even as he looked, the
faint hues strengthened. Two rainbows, two women—the perfect omen for
his fortunate future. Sibyl had probably spotted it already. He pictured her
standing at the large window in her round room, paintbrush in hand,
plotting to shape the vision into a painting.
But Gerard had no time to linger and watch the rainbows grow, because
the tide waited for no man. Everything about nature—the sun, the rain, the
rainbows, the tides—followed complex rhythms, regular but never the
same. All was calculable—he patted the tide table in his jeans pocket—yet
never quite as expected. Atmospheric pressure, moon phases and such all
played a role. Stirred by wind and swelled by the rain, today's sea was
already higher than normal.
Waves swished and slurped and rustled across the shingle. He took firm,
even steps past black rocks, across broken shells and white crab corpses.
Water ran in thin streams between sand and stones, down the almost
unnoticeable slope towards the sea.
Soon he would have both: a rich wife and an unconventional mistress. A
fair man, he would give both women the attention they deserved, but this
required skilful planning. Erica could not be relied upon to show the same
flexibility as Sibyl; she might even expect to have her husband to herself.
He had to show tact and not spoil her illusions. A job involving absences
from home would help, preferably no longer in her father's employ.
At 8.22, he reached the mainland shore where cliffs towered like steep
castle walls. Thirteen feet above, sparse grasses grew in cracks, and gorse
shrubs clung to precarious holds. Below that, nothing found a grip on the
stark rock face, nothing survived the high tide.
He had another hour and a quarter to walk on the seabed to the end of the
cliff that lined the shore. The wind rose, whipped up waves and sculpted
them into mountain ridges. Puddles filled, and water streamed into rock
pools. With the hem of his shirt, he wiped the thin coating of salt from his
spectacles, and squinted at the sea. The tide was coming faster than it
should.
 An illusion, no doubt, from a water level raised by wind and rain. Today's
high tide was at 13.01, which meant the sea did not hit the cliff until 10.30,
and then he would be past the inaccessible part and on dry secure land.
He checked his watch again, just in case. The blue steel hands on the
silvered dial showed 8.28 as it should. A quick glance back revealed the bill
already washed by water, the route he had walked submerged by the
incoming tide. Only its tip, the rock with the lighthouse, still pointed like an
admonishing finger out of the sea. The rainbow was now clearly a double,
its colours sharp.
Ignoring natural laws, the water crawled closer, brushing the scattered
rocks with angry lashes and frothy caress. Puddles filled and forced Gerard
to take big strides from rock to rock.
He checked the tide table, ran his finger down the column for today's
high tide. 13.01. He was right, and had an hour and a half to clear the rest of
the cliff.
Was the sun supposed to stand so high at half past eight? All he knew
was that it rose from the east. On previous walks, he had not paid it much
attention. He always left Sibyl's place at low tide, which was a different
time every week, so the sun was never in the same place anyway. Though
the sun looked high, and the water was close.
What if his watch had stopped? A Swiss Rolex was supposed to be
infallible. Ticke-tac, ticke-tac, ticke-tac, the watch assured him, and the
minute hand moved another notch.
As the water's edge sneaked nearer, he scanned the cliff face for an
escape. Surely there was some gap, some path, some stairs hewn into the
rock? But he had walked this route on many Saturday mornings, and knew
there was none. Thoughts and fears whirled through his mind, questions,
worries and doubts.
A drop of sweat slid down his back, and another. Keeping close to the
cliff, he marched faster.
Wall-like waves crashed and shoved sheets of white foam at his feet.
Tendrils of panic curled into his stomach while gulls glided past in mocking
calm.
 A cloud blocked out the sun. The air chilled and pimpled the skin on his
arms, even as the sweat of fear pasted the shirt to his back. To his left, the
cliff stood smooth, steep, merciless.
Salty splashes stained his shoes, sneaked into his socks, soaked his
trouser legs. The drum of fear beat in his chest. With the watch pressed to
his ear, he ran.
Boom boom boom, his heart thudded. The watch went ticke-tac, ticke-tac,
ticke-tac above the hiss of the waves.
The water rose fast. Icy wet snaked around his ankles, his calves. Still the
cliff stretched without end.
No one could have reset the watch except last night.
Sweet Sybil. So grateful, so forgiving.
The next wave slammed his chest against the rock with ice-cold force.
FURTHER READING

If you want to delve deeper into the pleasures of setting descriptions, here
are some great books to explore.

Rebecca McClanhan: Word Painting—A Guide to Writing More

Descriptively. This book inspires creative descriptions, not just for settings.

Jack M. Bickham: Setting—How to Create and Sustain a Sharp Sense of

Time and Place in Your Fiction. This guide shows how to weave plot,
characterisation and setting together.

Mary Buckham: Active Setting. This is a four-book series delving deep into
the craft of bringing settings to life. Volume 1: Characterization and
Sensory Detail. Volume 2: Emotion, Conflict and Back Story. Volume 3:
Anchoring and Action. Volume 4: Hooks.

DEAR READER,

I hope you enjoyed this book and have discovered many ideas how to make
your setting descriptions vivid and compelling.

Email me how you got on with this book and which chapters have been
most useful to you, and also if you spotted any typos which have escaped
the proofreader's eagle eyes. My email address is:
rayne_hall_author@[Link]. You can also contact me on Twitter:
@raynehall.

If you find this book helpful, it would be great if you could spread the word
about it. Maybe you know other writers who would benefit.

Reviews on sites like Amazon, Barnes & Noble, GoodReads, BookLikes

etc. are very welcome. Email me the link to your review, and I’ll send you a
free review copy (ebook) of one of my other Writer’s Craft books. Let me
know which one you would like: Writing Fight Scenes, Writing Scary
Scenes, The Word-Loss Diet, Writing About Magic, Writing About Villains,
Writing Dark Stories, Writing Short Stories to Promote Your Novels, Twitter
for Writers, Why Does My Book Not Sell? 20 Simple Fixes.

You may want to take a peek at a sample chapter of The Word-Loss Diet at
the end of this book.

With best wishes for writing success,

Rayne Hall

SAMPLE: THE WORD-LOSS DIET

Welcome to Dr. Rayne's Word-Loss Diet. If your writing needs toning up or

slimming down, you've come to the right place.
I'll show you how to shed thousands of words from your overweight
manuscript without changing the plot.
I'm uniquely qualified to write this book, because I used to be the wordiest
writer ever. I tended to use fifty words where five would do, and rejection
letters from editors contained comments like ‘wordy’, ‘needs tightening’,
and ‘not fast-paced enough for us’.
At first, I huffed: how dare this editor suggest that anything in my precious
prose could be cut! My stories needed those words!
However, I was also an editor, and I found it easy to spot superfluous words
in other writers' wordy wafflings. Eventually I applied the same techniques
to my own prose. I learnt to revise my wordy drafts so they became tight,
often with less than half the wordage of the original. To my surprise, the
tighter versions were really better.
In this book I'll share my most effective slimming tricks. It took me two
decades to learn them. You'll master them in a few days.
The book is based on my online class The Word-Loss Diet. Students who
completed the class shed five, ten, even twenty percent of their words, and
their writing style became leaner and stronger. Many students say the class
was the best investment they ever made. Now you can study the same
programme in book form, at your own pace.
You can apply all the techniques to give your manuscript a complete
stylistic makeover—this will take between five and fifty hours—or you
may apply only some techniques to address problem areas. The choice is
yours.
This book is perfect for polishing a manuscript before submitting to agents
or before indie publishing. It can also help if you need to trim an over-long
manuscript to meet wordcount requirements, or if you're wondering why
your writing keeps getting rejected.
Before you start working with this book, prepare yourself for some
shocking insights. Almost everyone gets an ‘Ouch!’ reaction when they
discover weaknesses in their writing style. You may cringe with
embarrassment when you realise those flaws.
Not everyone is ready for this kind of insight. If you're a novice writer just
starting out, this book may be discouraging. If you're feeling low, my advice
may be too harsh, and the insights may shatter your confidence. Put the
book aside for now and pick it up again when you're ready.
If you're confident in your writing and keen to improve it further, if you're
ready to take your writing skills to the next level and don't mind some
‘Ouch!’ experiences, then this book is for you. We will strip the layers of fat
from your writing and expose the muscle of your unique author voice.
With every technique in this book, you choose whether you want to apply it
and to what extent. You're the CEO of your writing; I'm only the consultant.
You decide which words to keep and which to discard.
If you're used to American English, some British words, spellings and
grammatical constructions may look odd, but I'm sure you will understand
me anyway.
Now brace yourself and transform your waffling writing into tight, exciting
prose. Are you ready?

LET'S START TO BEGIN

Here are two phrases you can cut without loss:

* begin to (begins to, beginning to, began to, begun to)
* start to (starts to, starting to, started to)
If something happens, you don't need to tell the reader that it starts to
happen. Just let it happen.

Examples:

Obese
She began to run.
Slim
She ran.

Obese
Rain began to fall.
Slim
Rain fell.

Obese
She started to shiver.
Slim
She shivered.
Obese
His lips started to quiver.
Slim
His lips quivered.

Obese
The dog started to growl.
Slim
The dog growled.

BEGINNER WEAKNESS

The unnecessary use of 'begin to' and 'start to' is the sign of a novice writer.
Editors who see them on the first page know the submission comes from a
novice. This may not be the kind of signal you want to send.
Consider removing all 'begin to' and 'start to' from the sample chapters
before you submit them.

EXCEPTIONS

Should you avoid 'start to' and 'begin to' altogether?

Not necessarily. Sometimes, when an action starts and is abandoned
immediately, they help clarify what's going on:
She began to walk home, but changed her mind after a few steps.
He started to paint the fence, but Jane halted his arm.

ASSIGNMENTS
1. Use the 'Find&Replace' function (explained in the Introduction) to
highlight 'start', 'begin', 'began', 'begun' with a red background. Depending
on the text-processing software you use, the steps are something like this:
* Open a manuscript. I suggest using a copy, so you don't spoil the real one
if things go wrong.
* Choose the word you want to highlight. For example, 'start'.
* Click 'Edit'.
* A drop-down menu appears. Click 'Find&Replace'.
* In the 'Search for' box, type 'look'. In the 'Replace with' box, also type
'start'.
* Move the cursor into the 'Replace with' box and click there.
* Click 'More options'.
* A drop-down menu appears. Click 'Format'.
* Click 'Background'.
* A window appears with many little coloured squares. Click a bright
colour, for example, green.
* Click 'ok'
* Now you're back to the 'Find&Replace' window. Click 'Replace all'.
* The programme highlights every single 'look' in your manuscript in green.
You can see at a glance if you've overused the word and where. It also says
'search key replaced 1025 times' or however many times you've used the
word, which may be more often than you thought.
Try it. Once you got the hang of it, it's quick.
Caution: some programmes don't differentiate between upper and lower
case, which can lead to 'Start' being replaced with 'start'. The search will
also bring up other words containing that string, for example 'startling'.
Sit back and assess your manuscript on the screen. Does it look like a rash
of green measles? Congratulations: you've discovered an easy way to
improve your writing style and shed a lot of words.
2. Take a note of the manuscript's current wordcount. Then kill as many
'start to' and 'begin to' as possible. Compare the 'before' and 'after'
wordcount. How many words have you shed today? Can you see the how
your style has improved?
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