Tag: setting

Fantasy Settings: How Much Do We Really Need to See?

May 18, 2020 / Kyle A. Massa

Everybody likes a good fantasy setting. Whether it’s Tolkien’s Middle-Earth, Jemisin’s Stillness, or Pratchett’s Discworld, there are some places we never want to leave. By that logic, there are some places we should see even more of, right? Well, not necessarily.

For us fantasy writers, it’s tempting to show every region of our worlds. That abandoned graveyard? Let’s send some characters there, just to see it. What about the ancient eagle’s nest atop the mountain? We need to show it, just because it’s awesome. And that village of singing trolls out in the west? There’s a chapter.

Before we do that, let’s take a step back and look at our world. Not the story world, but the world we actually live in. You know, Earth. It’s vast, isn’t it? And not only geographically—in terms of our knowledge, too. So many cultures, so much history. It’s practically limitless. Most people live their whole lives never seeing the entire thing.

To create an authentic fantasy world, I think we need to keep that same principle in mind. I believe every fictional world, fantasy or otherwise, should have parts on the periphery that we never discover.

A great example comes from The Lord of the Rings. Sure, you remember Mordor and Rivendell. But riddle me this: Do you remember Queen Beruthiel? She’s mentioned in an offhand comment from Aragorn:

“[Gandalf] is surer of finding the way home in a blind night than the cats of Queen Berúthiel.”

That’s it. She’s never mentioned again. At first glance, this might seem like laziness or even a mistake. But that reference is almost certainly intentional, and one of the many tricks Tolkien employed when building Middle-Earth. He created a rich, wholly believable world precisely because he didn’t show us everything.

Just like in the real world, there are limits to our knowledge as readers. If we directly experience every location and every person, the setting ends up feeling awfully small. But if there’s more beyond the borders of the page, we get a proper sense of scale.

Let’s stick with epic fantasy for our second talking point. A Song of Ice and Fire is one of the most immersive worlds out there. And it’s a big world—big enough that the story might not even conclude after seven volumes.

In books four and five, author George R.R. Martin shows us more of this expansive world. He adds several characters just to serve as vessels through which we can see the other areas of his setting. For example, bodyguard Areo Hotah exists only to show us what’s happening in the desert kingdom of Dorne.

Does it work? Well, that depends on whom you ask. For the most part, though, fans hate it.

Why? Because even Martin, who’s been a professional writer for decades, makes the mistake of showing too much of his setting. He has many chapters in which his characters do little except tell us what’s going on in this one place. Do we really need to see what’s going on in Dorne and the Iron Islands first-hand? You could debate it, but a lot of fans will tell you it distracts from the main plot. Furthermore, it makes his world feel smaller.

The more we see of a setting, the smaller it gets. Though we might want to visit that cool place we referenced way back in chapter five, it’s often best if we resist the urge.

Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife, their cats, and their dog. He has written two books and numerous short stories, both published and yet-to-be published. He enjoys unusual narrative structures, multiple POVs, and stories that make people laugh.

*Image credit: Mehmet Canli. Used under permission of CC BY-SA 2.0.

Is Setting the Least Important Element of Fiction?

January 21, 2019 / Kyle A. Massa

Setting

Hey, reader. Check out this Twitter poll:

An evil interdimensional being appears and demands to eat one essential element of fiction writing. Which are you offering up?
— ProWritingAid (@ProWritingAid) October 15, 2018

I work for this company. We’re called ProWritingAid and we make a super-powered editing app that helps writers improve at writing. It’s a great company, and I’m not just saying that because I work there.

Anyway, we run Twitter polls such as these every week or so. I was struck by the results of this one. Sure, we do have a limited sample size here (just 20 votes), but we still see an overwhelming majority. Many writers, it seems, prioritize character and plot over setting.

Based on my own work and the work of others, this sentiment feels accurate. Anecdotally speaking, many writers care most about Who and What—less so about Where.

So does that make setting the least important component of fiction? Maybe. But does that make it inessential? Hardly. Here’s why you can’t allow any interdimensional beings to eat your setting.

Setting Amplifies Character and Plot

In the aforementioned Twitter pole, let’s say you voted for character or plot. Good vote, voter—I probably would’ve done the same. But for most stories, setting has a profound influence on the other two elements.

I experienced this truth first-hand when writing my novel Gerald Barkley Rocks. I initially imagined the story taking place in Los Angeles, California. Julian Strange, whose death ignites the plot, is a washed-up rock-and-roll singer. His neighbor, Carmen Fowler, is a retired actress. And a significant portion of the story concerns themes of fame. Los Angeles seemed like the perfect setting.

Yet in the early drafts, I thought I might experiment with a different city. My wife and I lived in Colorado at the time, so I tried moving my story to Denver. I submitted these new chapters to my writers’ group, and the flaws were obvious: several people thought my book just wasn’t the same if it took place anywhere but Los Angeles. I ended up agreeing.

Setting supports both characters and plot. My characters are L.A. characters. My plot is an L.A. plot. If an interdimensional being devoured my setting, it wouldn’t be the same story.

Are There Exceptions?

Definitely. For example, I recently read Salman Rushdie’s Two Years, Eight Months and Twenty-Eight Nights. Yes, this book has a setting. But I’d say it takes a backseat to what happens, and who makes it happen.

This isn’t the most scientific analysis, but I must admit, I don’t remember where this story takes place. I think New York City is mentioned and the beginning takes place in the ancient Middle East, but otherwise the setting doesn’t factor into the story much at all.

The same cannot be said of the book’s characters or plot. I vividly remember characters like Ibn Rushid, Dunia, and Jimmy Kapoor. I can recall pretty much everything that happens, too. Again, not scientific, but I think it’s telling. Thin settings can be easily excused by strong characters and conflicts.

Does That Make Setting the Least Important Element of Fiction?

I think we should treat this question more as a thought experiment and less as a serious consideration. Asking which element of fiction is least important is like asking which essential bodily function is least important; if we lose any of them, we lose everything.

Still, I think this pole highlights an important lesson for all writers: don’t undervalue setting. Yes, some writers, like Salman Rushdie, can write great books with fuzzy settings. For the rest of us, setting is just as essential as ever.

See ya, evil interdimensional being. We’re keeping our setting!

Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife and their two cats. His stories have appeared in numerous online magazines, including Allegory, Chantwood, and Dark Fire Fiction. His debut novel, Gerald Barkley Rocks, is available now on Amazon Kindle.

3 Mistakes Writers Make When Writing Dialogue (And How to Fix Them)

June 11, 2018 / Kyle A. Massa

Good dialogue is a pleasure to read. However, writing dialogue is not always a pleasure to create. As with any difficult task, sometimes we make mistakes.

Fortunately for you, I make mistakes all the time. So here are three mistakes I’ve made when writing dialogue, along with some thoughts on how to avoid them. Hope you can learn something from it!

1. Overdoing Voice

Conventional wisdom states that every character should have a unique voice. While this is true, sometimes we writers make the mistake of taking this tip too far. For instance, I remember writing a character whose every other line ended with the word “chief.” Some examples:

“You gonna finish that, chief?”

“That’s it, chief, go that way.”

“Chief, you better listen to me. I’m about to lose it.”

Don’t worry, I’m laughing at it, too. Unintentional comedy is often the funniest kind.

Anyway, we definitely want our characters to have unique voices. But we also want them to sound like real people, not repetitive weirdos. Some writers overpack their characters’ dialogue with “ums” and “you knows.” Others overdo accents, turning every “your” into “yer” and every “isn’t” into “ain’t.” To be clear, I’m not calling these techniques useless. Let’s just remember that a little goes a long way.

Of note: I think it’s useful to exaggerate dialogue in early drafts. Doing so oftentimes helps us get a strong grasp of the character. In the first draft, put in as many “chiefs” as you like. Just don’t forget to scale it back to a reasonable level.

2. Being Expository

“I’m feeling so conflicted right now,” said Solara. “I could get the vanilla, but I really like chocolate. I only have enough for one scoop. Such a dilemma!”

This dialogue is just as bad as the guy who says chief all the time—maybe worse. Dialogue is at its best when it’s subtle rather than heavy-handed. When characters state exactly what they think, it feels inauthentic. People rarely say exactly what’s on their minds. Rather, they more often hint at it through subtext.

When I feel like my dialogue is too expository, I often define the information I’m trying to impart, then decide how to show that information without stating it. In the above example, Solara might instead ask her friends, “Have you had the vanilla here before?” Or maybe she asks for sample of both flavors, thinks a moment then says, “Wait. Sorry. Can I try them one more time? Please?” There are plenty of ways to show that the character’s conflicted without injecting that exact message into our dialogue.

3. Relying Too Heavily on Dialogue

People talking I studied screenwriting in college. Afterward, I switched over to prose. I’ve stayed there ever since. The funny thing is, sometimes you might read my manuscripts and think you’re reading a movie script. Sometimes I get into a mode where my scenes are all dialogue and no description.

If you’re writing prose, using too much dialogue is like buying a tool kit and only using the hammer. The novel form grants us access to the authorial voice, so we should use it. If we try to develop everything with dialogue (character, backstory, plot, setting, conflict), we run the risk of committing mistake number two.

Of course, there are exceptions. Dave Eggers’s Your Fathers, Where Are They? And the Prophets, Do They Live Forever? is a novel written entirely as dialogue. But this is an outlier. And let’s not forget that it was written by a guy who wrote seven other novels.

For those writing prose, dialogue is a tasty steak—but only when seasoned correctly. Think of non-dialogue sentences as your spices.

In Conclusion

Yes, writing dialogue is sometimes a pain. But that only means it’s a worthwhile pursuit. Let’s avoid these mistakes. Let’s stay determined. And please, let’s not write any characters who call people “chief.” Sorry for that.

Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his fiancee and their two cats. His stories have appeared in numerous online magazines, including Allegory, Chantwood, and Dark Fire Fiction.

Are You Forgetting Your Setting?

February 26, 2018 / Kyle A. Massa

I’d like to share a brief scene with you. Here goes:

“Life,” said Silver, “is a collection of unrealized dreams.”

Tia groaned. “Well that’s uplifting.”

“My profound apologies.”

That was something Tia noticed about Silver in the short time she’d known him—he had his own way of saying everything. “Many pardons,” instead of “excuse me.” “Energetically insufficient” instead of “tired.” “Inventively predisposed” instead of “creative.” Or, in this case, “my profound apologies” instead of “sorry.” He never uttered the words with irony, either. It was just how he spoke.

“Silver,” she said. “People enjoy your movies. So maybe you don’t need to care what critics and reviewers and whoever say. Right?”

“Critics and reviewers are gravity. I am but a rock bound to Earth.”

It took a great deal of Tia’s willpower not to scream. “Silver. I know we haven’t known each other long. But this depressive artist thing. It’s a little much.”

I think this is a decent start to a story. We’ve got two fairly well-developed characters with distinct voices. We’ve got hints of conflict. We’ve even got the seeds of a story emerging.

So sure, it’s a fine start. But where’s the setting?

Remember the scene in The Matrix when they’re standing in a totally white space? That’s basically what I have here. No explanation of where we are, no details about the area within which these characters speak. Just Tia, Silver, and their dialogue. I’ve done it before, and I’ve read other manuscripts with the same issue.

As writers, sometimes we place so much focus on character and plot that we forget about setting. Big mistake. Setting is an essential element of any great story. To paraphrase a professor of mine, settings should be written such that one’s story cannot exist in any other surrounding.

So how do we make sure we don’t forget our setting? Here are some thoughts.

Incorporate Your Setting Into the Action

This method works wonders. Take our introductory scene, for instance. Let’s see what happens when we insert the setting into the conversation.

“Life,” said Silver, “is a collection of unrealized dreams.”

Tia groaned. “Well that’s uplifting.”

They huddled in a room too small for two people, a single flickering bulb serving as their only source of light. The smell of dust and some chemical aroma (Silver’s cologne, perhaps?) seemed to crowd the space further. Tia wasn’t sure how long she could stand it.

I like this version better already. As readers, we can visualize the conversation now that we’ve filled in the surroundings. Additionally, the setting description adds context to the scene: Tia is uncomfortable, Silver wears Axe body spray.

Draw from Personal Experience

This principle works for most aspects of writing, but it’s especially useful for writing settings. That’s because so much of a setting is based on sensory detail, so it oftentimes helps to write about a place that you’ve been before.

Take the ocean, for instance. You might describe the smell of it, the feel of the sand between your toes, the sound of the gulls overhead. Make sure your audience feels like they can visualize and imagine themselves within the space.

If you’re writing alternate-world fantasy, this task becomes a bit trickier. Still, you can do it. Even if your story takes place in a world you’ve never visited and never will, you can still draw on personal experience. Think back to the time you went hiking through the mountains, took a trip to Death Valley, or went cave diving. These experiences can inform your settings, even those of an alternate world.

Imagine Your Setting as a Character

This is my personal favorite method of building a good setting. Imagine all the care and thought you put into your characters. Now apply those same principles toward your setting.

For example, your setting, just like your characters, has little quirks and oddities that no other setting has. Use those. A good setting, like good characters, help to progress the story further.

Give these tips a try and see what happens. And make sure not to forget that setting!

Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his fiancee and their two cats. His stories have appeared in numerous online magazines, including Allegory, Chantwood, and Dark Fire Fiction. To stay current with Kyle’s work, subscribe to his email newsletter. He promises not to spam you.