TECH: Make A Scene #5: Setting

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Make a Scene by Jordan Rosenfeld

(We're making a scene, checking it twice, gonna find out who's naughty and nice . . .)

Okay. So we got the idea that a scene consists of a launch, a middle, and a bang up ending. In part two of his book, Rosenfeld looks at some of the ingredients or core elements that we use to put that together. The setting, senses, character development and motivation, plot, subtext, dramatic tension, and scene intentions (interesting, Dragon NaturallySpeaking likes to make that "and tensions" or "in tensions" rather than "intentions." And there certainly is a lot of tension :-). Quite a few ingredients in the stew, so let's start chopping.

Chapter 5: Setting starts out by pointing out that unfamiliar surroundings often make us feel unsettled and overwhelmed. The writer's job is to "act as a tour guide through each scene, expertly guiding the reader to all the important details, pointing out only what is necessary and what will help the reader understand what he sees."

So even though setting is mostly there to support and contain the scene action, and in most cases will not be the star, you need to think about it carefully and help the reader feel comfortable about where this is happening. The stage for any scene is what is seen. You're going to make a world, give the reader a framework so that they can sit down and look around. Sounds like fun!

Even though the setting is just a backdrop, you need to establish the setting to keep your characters from being floating heads. You can start out with a pretty sketchy setting and then fill in the details later, but you need to make sure it is there. Big things like the general geographic location, nature, and any homes and buildings. Locations, whether next door or across the galaxy, give the reader and the writer lots of information. A setting in Florida is not the same as a setting in California! Nature and the time of year combine to create outdoor settings that can involve weather and temperature and all kinds of wonderful background. And then there are buildings and houses and homes and rooms. All the great background of civilization, from small towns to great cities.

Next, think about the setting details. What is the time in history? Is it the wacky era of the 70s? Renaissance Italy? Or the year 9595 when it isn't any too certain that Man will still be alive? What about cultural references? Down south, up north near H'va'd, or maybe out west where the coyotes play? How about in Europe, or whatever?

And then there's props or objects. The key to this is purposeful placement, making sure that every object counts or has significance. Rosenfeld suggest thinking about it as a diorama -- all you want are the essentials that are representative in your scenes. Props that bring the scene to life! But be careful, because readers tend to think that every object you mention has significance. Especially the more loving the description and details, the more likely they are to think that it must mean something. And you really don't want too many Maltese Falcons wandering around through your scenes. Some of the possibilities for things you want to include might be mood objects, showing how the narrator feels about things. Significant objects, actually call attention to themselves. These may be plot significant -- the evidence, magic rings, dogs that don't bark, or whatever -- that actually change or influence the plot. Sometimes people are looking for it, sometimes they pop up by themselves, but in one way or another they make the plot go. There are also character significant objects -- things that have sentimental or emotional meaning, lucky pieces, and so forth. You need to make sure that the reader understands how the character feels about the object. You don't need to describe the object so much, but you do need to make sure that the relationship of the character and the object is crystal clear.

One very important point about objects is to describe them in the kind of detail that your character uses. Maybe he or she drives a jalopy, but they're more likely to drive a 1955 Camino Royale (I'm not sure if that's a real car or not, but you get the idea -- not a vehicle, but a specific one!). Avoid generics, or vagueness. Stick with specifics. "Remember that great characters and the wild plot actions they undertake need solid ground and meaningful props to support them. Always ask, what needs to be seen in this scene?"

One of the dangers of setting is that you can end up with too much narrative summary. Describing the setting is the easy and even fun, but it's there to create authenticity and ground the reader for the story. It should be a background, not upstaging the characters and plot! To help you keep the balance, think about:

• setting helps create mood or ambience as a tone for the scene
• your protagonist needs to interact with the setting
• the setting needs to support your plot
• small actions help break up setting description

The last but far from least, once you've established the place, put the props in, and you've got the characters and action going, stay consistent. Moviemakers have someone whose job is to watch continuity. Make sure that the flowers at the beginning of the scene don't turn into cactus somewhere along the way. Make little diagrams of the rooms, or even of the characters as they move around. One way or another, check to make sure that your props don't appear and disappear or strangely morph into something different.

So that's where Rosenfeld starts looking at the ingredients in the scenic mix -- with the setting. I suppose in a sense, that's the cauldron that we're going to cook in (although I'm probably pushing the metaphor a bit far with that :-) In any case, we need to know where this scene is taking place, and what kind of props are occupying the stage. Or if you like, what pieces did you put into the diorama where your story will take place?

Assignment? Take a scene, any scene -- well, one from a story you like, or one from a story you are working on. Then pull out the pieces. What is the setting for this scene? How does the writer establish the geographical location, the nature or buildings where it takes place? What about the props? How do they get worked in, and what do they tell us about the plot or characters? What is the function of the setting and props in this scene -- and how well do you think they work? Suppose you want to add one more prop or take one away -- what would it be and why? How does that change the scene? What about moving the scene from over there to yonder -- what would happen?

When we write, we let other people see a setting?

TECH: Constructs of Meaning

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Original posting: Mon, 17 Mar 1997 14:03:13 EST

[harried, hurried, and probably not too well thought out, but I thought I would contribute something...]

I don't have the reference handy, but one of the psychological tomes I've pondered suggested that people have various approaches to constructs--meaningful things.

For example, some constructs are impermeable--there is a list of members, and these and only these members belong to the construct.

Others are more permeable--anything like this "belongs" to the construct.

Some constructs are preemptive--if this, then it cannot be anything else.

Other constructs are constellatory--"belonging" to this construct implies that the objects has these characteristics. It does not further restrict membership...

And, he suggested, the most recent type of construct is propositional--this and others may be appropriate.

Part of what I came away with was an appreciation for the various kinds of meanings; for the ways that meaning, objects, and labels might relate; and for avoiding the absolutism and black-and-white thinking that "is" so often seems to promote (that old aristotalian equalization of non-identity).

I suggest that this may relate to the current discussion. For example, if one believes that the "meaning" of a piece is well-defined, with sharp clear edges and so forth, then it becomes important to connect the piece with the correct "meaning" and crush other "false" meanings. If one believes that the meaning of a piece is more fluid, something that develops and changes depending on where one stands and what background the piece is viewed against, then it may be more important to try out and explore various ways that the piece could mean.

Does the writer have a different relationship to the writing than others?

Suppose, for the sake of the argument, that we let a writer write something, and immediately killed them. Their intention, that internal subjectivity that gave rise to the expression, is gone.

Does this mean the writing has lost all meaning?

It seems quite odd to suggest that.

Suppose we carefully have large numbers of people read a work, noting down, classifying, and otherwise keeping track of what they consider the work to "mean."

Is there a point where we will "exhaust" the meanings which the work has, and we can definitely say that the next reader cannot develop a new meaning? (where the meaning is their internal response, it seems quite clear that the "meanings" of the work are as infinite and varied as the readers.)

For that matter, does the "meaning" of a work shift and change as the reader lives? Suppose you read something this week, and then read it again next week--does it say the same thing? Let a few more years settle, and read it again--is it still the same?

Is it interesting to find out what the author thought they were expressing? Certainly.

Is it possible for other people to have interesting views about what was expressed? Of course.

Can we make fun of academic pomposity? I certainly hope so.

Do we have to crush the views of others, declaring them unreal, unjustified, and utterly hateful? No.

Let's admit that there may be useful and interesting views in many places.

okay?