Description & Setting

1. Good Writing Transcends, But Setting Grounds the Story

"Good writing is transcendental," the professor said. "It rises above time and place."

Transcendental truth. While truly great writing resonates universally, transcending specific time and place, it paradoxically relies on a meticulously crafted setting to achieve this. A story isn't just history or geography; it's about people and their experiences, which are always rooted somewhere. For instance, To Kill a Mockingbird isn't merely about 1930s Alabama; its themes of discrimination and justice are universal, yet its specific setting makes them tangible.

Foundation for immersion. A writer must create a clearly depicted time and place, using every tool available, because readers need to know the "lay of the land" upfront. This initial immersion is crucial; without a believable setting, readers won't journey far into your narrative. The setting acts as the foundation upon which the entire story is built, providing context and grounding for characters and plot.

Setting as character. In some cases, the setting itself becomes a character, influencing the overall tone through its societal conventions, landscapes, and regional dialects. Very few novels would work as well if transplanted to entirely different times and places without significant alterations. Harper Lee's choice of the Deep South in the 1930s, for example, was "perfect bedrock" for her unique novel, providing fertile ground for its themes and characters.

2. The Writer's Trinity: Craft, Models, and Wordsmithing

Creative writing consists of two things: craft and voice.

Crafting the narrative. Creative writing is fundamentally built upon two pillars: craft and voice. Craft encompasses the technical "tricks of the trade" – the tools and clever manipulations that bring a story to life. This includes elements like metaphors, similes, sentence variation, and foreshadowing. A writer can learn and hone these skills, much like a craftsman learns to use their tools.

Finding your voice. Voice, however, is the entirely individual way a writer spins their yarn. It's a personal expedition, refined through honing basic storytelling skills, extensive reading of diverse authors, and meticulous wordsmithing. While voice can't be directly taught, it emerges from the careful selection of each word and phrase, fusing with craft to create a unique style.

Integrated approach. The author proposes a "trinity" for effective writing: craft, models (studying established writers), and wordsmithing (planning, writing, and fine-tuning). These elements are inseparable; the tools and their unique application must be a single enterprise. Similarly, setting and description are intertwined, working together to form the foundation of your fiction.

3. Cultivate Keen Observation: Harvest "Fresh Little Details"

To be a good writer, you have to be a persistent and meticulous harvester of detail.

The writer as thief. A writer must constantly pay attention, acting as a "thief" of details from the world around them. The best dialogue, character quirks, and environmental textures often come from real-life observations. F. Scott Fitzgerald, for instance, actively sought out "fresh little details" like handkerchiefs drying on a windowpane, recognizing their power to make fiction accessible.

Building a detail warehouse. These seemingly unimportant minutiae should be gathered and cataloged, whether tangibly in a notebook or mentally. This "warehouse of details" becomes a rich resource, allowing writers to infuse their settings and descriptions with authenticity. Examples of details to collect include:

• Dialogue snippets
• Mannerisms of strangers
• Textures of walls, sounds of pipes
• Unexpected objects in common places

Practice perception. Honing observation skills is crucial. This can be done by focusing on the past (recalling specific memories with sensory detail) or the present (observing active places like parks or coffee shops). The goal is to spot the small, often unnoticed fine points that craft rich descriptions, always thinking in present tense to bring scenes to life.

4. Show, Don't Just Tell: Immerse Your Reader

"Fiction writing," she tells us in Mystery and Manners, "is very seldom a matter of saying things; it is a matter of showing things."

The core distinction. Showing allows readers to experience events, characters, and settings directly, rather than simply being told about them. For example, instead of stating "A good time was had by all," Toni Morrison shows it through old people dancing with children, tipsy church women, and a boy smiling at music. This creates a far more vivid and immersive impression.

Invisible stitching. The writer's magic lies in stitching images together so meticulously that the "seams are invisible." This means letting actions, sensory details, and dialogue convey information, allowing the reader to draw their own conclusions. Masuji Ibuse, describing Hiroshima after the atomic bomb, doesn't say "The city suffered significant damage"; he shows it through "reflection of the sun on broken glass," "smell of death," and "swarms of flies."

Balanced blend. While showing is generally more effective, telling still has its place. A balanced blend is key. Sometimes, a blunt statement can be powerful, especially after a detailed showing, acting as a "change-up pitch" to maintain reader interest. The ultimate goal is to avoid making your fiction feel like a report, ensuring the reader experiences the story rather than just summarizing it.

5. Engage All Senses: Bring Your World to Life

He said that he could imagine a chair, carefully write a paragraph or so about it, and his reader would know precisely what it would be like to sit in that chair.

Beyond sight. While sight is the most common sense used in description, relying solely on it is a mistake. James Michener, a master of sensory detail, aimed to make readers not only visualize a chair but also feel its creaking, smell its polish, and hear its sounds. Engaging all five physical senses—and sometimes even intuition (the "sixth sense")—allows readers to relate to the tangible nature of your story's elements.

Olfactory power. The sense of smell is particularly potent for evoking nostalgia and memory. A specific aroma can trigger a character's past, symbolize a deeper meaning, or even describe the indescribable. Patrick Suskind's Perfume vividly captures 18th-century Paris by cataloging its myriad odors, from "human and animal smells" to "fresh-baked bread and eggs boiled in vinegar."

Tactile and auditory immersion. Touch can convey everything from pain to pleasure, making readers recall or imagine sensations. Dick Francis's descriptions of physical agony are visceral, while Barbara Kingsolver uses the feeling of "dried flowers crushed idly between thumb and forefinger" to metaphorically represent political reshaping. Sound, too, anchors readers in a scene, whether it's the "clatter of running hoofs" in a Western or the "sweep of easy wind and downy flake" in a poem, or even the absence of sound.

6. Characters: More Than Just Looks, They're Motivations and Flaws

Your reader needs to see the people in your fiction as clearly as you do.

Depth beyond appearance. Describing characters goes beyond physical traits; it involves conveying their attitude, motivation, worldview, and vulnerabilities. Carson McCullers might start with a boy's physical description, but William E. Barrett quickly adds personality through a mother's quote. Flannery O'Connor uses extended analogies to reveal a character's obstinacy through their expressions, showing personality as much as looks.

Internal and external drivers. Good writers know their characters' motivations—what drives them and what stops them. This internal knowledge informs external descriptions and actions. For instance, a character's desire for money might be shown through their dialogue or actions, like Parker's decision to join a heist only after learning a trusted associate is involved. Flaws, whether emotional (like Santini's despotism) or physical (like Thetford Collins's absent nose), can provide crucial motivation or define a character's choices.

Authenticity and stereotypes. While real people can inspire characters, writers must modify reality to serve the story. Avoid simply "putting in" friends or family; characters must be exactly who the story needs them to be. When using historical figures, adhere to known facts but invent dialogue and actions that fit the era. Be cautious with stereotypes; while they can occasionally provide a quick, recognizable image, overreliance leads to one-dimensional "cardboard characters."

7. Setting as a Dynamic Force: Shaping Mood, Theme, and Conflict

Nothing so solidly anchors a work of fiction in readers' minds as knowing when and where something is taking place.

Beyond backdrop. Settings are not mere backdrops; they are active components that drive the story by magnifying themes, conveying mood, and enlarging conflicts. Just as the biblical books of Genesis and Exodus are anchored in specific times and places, making their stories tangible, your fiction needs a definite setting to emerge as a story, not just a list of events.

Macrocosm to microcosm. Writers can establish setting by moving from a broad "macrocosm" (e.g., a bird's-eye view of an island or city) to a specific "microcosm" (a single room or street). This allows for a gradual immersion, reminding readers that the specific scene is part of a larger world. Details like weather and geography are essential constants that impact characters and their worldviews, adding credibility and depth to the setting.

Infusing meaning. The description of a setting can subtly emphasize a story's themes. For example, Eudora Welty uses the "silver" decay of cabins and dead leaves to mirror the "old, used-up" woman in "A Worn Path," magnifying themes of endurance and decline. Similarly, a setting can establish mood (e.g., a "sulphurous smoke" in London for a mystery) or enlarge conflict (e.g., the tension between Ethan Frome and Mattie amplified by the mention of snow, hinting at Zeena's delayed return).

8. Tailor Description to Genre and Audience Expectations

Publishers are looking for specific types of stories and novels—and require that they be written in specific ways—because the people who buy their offerings expect certain things.

Genre conventions. Different fiction genres come with specific expectations regarding setting and description. A Western, for instance, demands extensive descriptions of wide-open landscapes, gunfights, and frontier towns, often with dialect that reflects the era. A romance novel, conversely, focuses on opulent interiors, detailed clothing, and attractive physical traits.

Audience awareness. Understanding your target audience is crucial. Readers of literary fiction may tolerate longer, more intricate descriptive passages, appreciating the author's craft. Popular fiction readers, however, often prioritize plot advancement and prefer more concise descriptions that don't "bog them down." The "clutter rule" applies here: if a detail doesn't advance the story, it should be cut.

Research and authenticity. Regardless of genre, doing your homework is vital. For historical fiction, facts must be "essentially correct and verifiable," and descriptions should reflect the era without revealing future knowledge. For science fiction or fantasy, while settings can be fabricated, they must adhere to a consistent internal logic or "rules" to maintain believability for the reader.

9. Work the Magic: Strategic Elements for Reader Engagement

The single most important first impression your fiction will make on your potential reader—other than the cover of your novel or the illustration of your story, neither of which you are likely to have any control over—is your title.

Beyond the story. Effective storytelling involves more than just plot and characters; it requires "working the magic" through strategic elements that enhance reader engagement. This includes modifying reality to fit the narrative, choosing a compelling title, crafting a strong first sentence, and placing specific settings within larger contexts.

Titles as invitations. A well-chosen title is the first impression, setting expectations for genre, theme, or character. Titles can evoke primary settings (e.g., Chesapeake, London), hint at themes (Steel Magnolias), or define characters (The Ugly American). The best titles often emerge organically from the manuscript or carry double meanings, inviting the reader into the story's world.

The crucial first sentence. The opening sentence is a "grabber," designed to make the reader want to read the second. It should be engaging, perhaps quirky, and offer a "smidgen of mystery or foreshadowing." Edith Wharton's simple opening for Summer subtly introduces character and setting, while Jeffrey Archer's First Among Equals immediately establishes irony, connecting with universal experiences of fate.

10. The Clutter Rule: Ruthlessly Edit for Story Advancement

"When you write a story, you're telling yourself the story," he said. "When you rewrite, your main job is taking out all the things that are not the story."

Eliminate the unnecessary. The "clutter rule" dictates that anything not serving the story's advancement must be removed. This includes overused dialogue tags (especially with adverbs), clichés, and unnecessary repetition. For instance, if a character's dialogue already conveys sadness, adding "sadly" to the tag is redundant clutter that slows the reader.

Avoid common pitfalls. Writers must be vigilant against:

• Clichés: Overused phrases that lack originality ("pretty as a picture").
• Repetition: Using the same word or phrase too often, too closely.
• Didacticism: Preaching or lecturing instead of storytelling.
• Verbosity: Wordiness, longwindedness, or excessive use of passive voice.
• Wandering off-track: Including details or subplots that don't serve the main narrative.

The power of omission. Sometimes, the most effective description is no description at all. Leaving certain horrors or details to the reader's imagination can be far more chilling or impactful, as seen in Saki's "The Interlopers" where the single word "Wolves" conveys immense terror. This intentional lack of detail forces the reader to engage more deeply, filling in the blanks with their own fears and experiences.

Last updated: August 6, 2025