Sense of Place -- How to achieve it?

[Teresa Edgerton]

I think it began when I discovered Tolkien (I was very young and impressionable). After I took my first long breath of the air of Middle Earth, it was impossible for me to look at fantasy fiction in quite the same way ever again. Since then, I have sailed the seas of Earthsea ... tasted fairy fruit in Lud ... visted waterish Witchland ... exchanged riddles with the Riddlemaster of Hed ... in short, I've had the pleasure of spending time in so many deeply imaginative and vividly described fantasy worlds that perhaps I've been spoiled for books that "only" offer good plot and characters.

For me, as a reader, a sense of place is of paramount importance. No matter how fantastic the setting, by the time the book is over, I want to feel that I have BEEN there, slogging through the mire, or ascending the mountain tops, or merely stopping by the home of a friendly faun for tea and toast. I want a book where the setting is more real, in its way, than some of the real places I could actually go.

But how do we, as writers, achieve this sort of thing in our own writing? How have some of our favorite authors done this? Have any of you tried some of their techniques yourselves -- and if so, how did they work out?

And which aspects of an imaginary world tend to interest you the most? History and folklore? Landscape? Culture? Ritual? The tiny details of everyday life? The way that magic (or technology) works? Basically, what kinds of things make it REAL for you?

[Leto]

Precision, and research. Tolkien has made all lot of work before even starting his story (as all the book takes place in the same timeframe and the same world, they're just one story to my eye). Same goes with most authors (sci-fi and fantasy alike) who creates a world were you feels you belong to. No need to go to every details of the world you've just created, but every glimpse you give to the reader should be as precise as possible (as an example, look at the descriptions of stillsuits in Dune) and remains coherent with the rest of your work.
Now I'd focus on everyday life (what's the food like, what's the taste of it, how does the bed/nest look like, what do you use for trades), and depending on what's the story about, either landscape (either or fauna/flora being more evasive on the general form or on a specific setting) and culture (music and poetry mainly), or history. The easiest way would to build an index of the world I create and add element as I come up with new objects, services and animals. Checking all the time, all remains coherent.

[knivesout]

For me, the sense of place (as opposed to the larger world building exercise) is very important. I do a lot of exercises to help refine my ability to convey a scene or setting - basically, I often sit around with my notebook and try to create a verbal snapshot of the place I'm in at the moment. This helps me pick out the combinations of sights, sounds and smells that stand out the most in a variety of situations.

Worldbuilding in the larger sense of history, technology, culture and so on is important at a macro level of setting youyr overall story in place, but it's the small stuff that actually comes into play when writing the story. Ray Bradbury and Cordwainer Smith are masters at the little detail that completes the immersion into their story. A writer like Emile Zola can be a useful reference with his emphasis on social realism (stultifying though it can be in other ways). An example of what I mean is a passage from Zola's Therese Raquin. Therese and her lover, Laurent, have taken Therese's husband Camille out to a riverside picnic, in order to kill him out on the waters. Before going boating, they order a lunch of buttered duck. Out on the waters, Therese and Laurent carry out their plan and then return to the riverside hotel, and tell a made-up tale of Camille failing to surface after going swimming. A party of boaters leaps into action, attempting to find Camille. Eventually, they decide that the man is probably dead, and a propoer search for his body will be done later. Pretending to be distraught, Therese and Laurent leave. The chapter ends with this inconsequential detail, which nevertheless threw the whole terrible act into sharp relief for me: (I quote from memory) 'After they had left, the boaters feasted on Camille's buttered duck.'

That's the sort of detail really makes me feel like I'm there - but it's very tricky and shouldn't be overused.

[I, Brian]

Darn good topic - not convinced if I ever have achieved it. But I suspect that the character experience of the world is a very important factor - appealing to the senses, and giving a depth to the world that the characters hold onto. Tolkien's historical/mythical dimension also adds very much in crafting a singular sense of identity.

[Teresa Edgerton]

Excellent and thoughtful answers all.

I do a lot of research, too. I have whole three-ring binders full of it, for the various periods and subjects that interest me. And I tend to go off on tangents, as different aspects grab hold of my attention: food, furnishings, architecture, costume, manners and morals, etc. I have a whole binder full of information on medicine pre-1800, and another on alchemy and magic. For a while, when I was writing a book with an 18th century setting I was absolutely obsessed with what things were made of -- all the different materials that went into clothing and jewelery and furnishings, boxes, eating utensils, weapons, clocks, and so forth. An odd interest, some of you may be thinking, but it amused me.

I'm of the opinion that however much of the writer's research ends up directly on the page, he or she should actually know much, much more than that. I think it shows up indirectly, if only in the mistakes that we DON'T make. But also it can make a difference (related, I think, to what Brian said) in inventing the characters and their situation. If we learn all we can about how they might live in their world and experience it, then perhaps we can deduce other important things about them, which may even carry an otherwise familiar story in unexpected directions.

But other than these indirect ways, how do some of you other writers inject your research -- or for that matter, any purely imaginary worldbuilding -- into a story without making it too obvious? Does it all come out through the viewpoint character's direct experience? Is it part of the narration/exposition? Do you slip it into the conversation? Preface each chapter with an excerpt from the Encylopedia Galactica or the Annals of Faerie?

Leto, have you ever come across a really excellent series of books -- or at least all of them that were eventually translated into English and read by me were excellent -- originally written in French, the titles of which were all along the lines of "Daily Life in Georgian England," or "Daily Life in the Holy Land in Biblical Times"*?

I know that only a fraction of the titles were translated, which is very frustrating for me, because I don't read or speak French (even if I could get my hands on the books), but I'm thinking they would be a marvelous source for French (or Belgian, or other French-speaking) writers of fantasy or historical fiction. The handful that I've read are just jam-packed full of great information.

*Not to be confused with a newer series with similar titles, written in English and published by Writers Digest Books.

[knivesout]

Kelpie: I have read a few of the Daily Lives, translated from French - one on Ancient Egypt, the other on Rome. The level of detail given there was awesome - down to the interiors of a public latrine in Rome. Quite invaluable in writing something set in one of these cultures, or something patterned after them, I think.

The thing is, my stories tend to be less about the world, except as atmosphere, than about people and the things happening in their heads and how these things manifest in the outer world and collide.

So, it's atmospheric detail that matters most to me - knowing how to understand little settings. This doesn't preclude in-depth world-building. In the Hellblazer comics, a lot is said about Constantine simply by showing him picking up 40 Silk Cuts and beer before a tough conjuring. If you've smoked Wills cigs, you know the difference between Navy Cut and Silk Cut, and can form some opinion of Constantine by this information. Even if you don't, it's just cool to know - info is a form of porn, if you ask me, as borne out by the enduring appeal of sea stories with their rigmarole of nautical terms. So, when I'm working in a purely imaginary setting, it's up to me to create these minor details so that I can put them in at appropriate moments. I like them to either be self-explanatory, or to work even if you don't get the whole significance, like the Silk Cut example.

[polymorphikos]

I think entirely inventing the concepts of how certain things, such as medicine, sewerage, society, dress and armour work is a good way. Then you have to give details of them for any sense to be had, and it gives the entire story an original feel rather than epoch-mining.

[Circus Cranium]

Consistency in the world I'm reading about is something that draws me in, makes me feel a part of it from book to book if it's a series. For my own writing, it's a bit different, because my settings are modern and urban. I bring the fantastic into THIS world rather than an offworld. This makes for double research; making sure my knowledge of the domestic environment is bang on, and researching my otherworldly characters and plotlines on top of that. Then finally, making sure it all melds, so the reader doesn't feel disoriented at any point.

[Leto]

Originally Posted by Kelpie

Excellent and thoughtful answers all.

I do a lot of research, too. I have whole three-ring binders full of it, for the various periods and subjects that interest me. And I tend to go off on tangents, as different aspects grab hold of my attention: food, furnishings, architecture, costume, manners and morals, etc. I have a whole binder full of information on medicine pre-1800, and another on alchemy and magic. For a while, when I was writing a book with an 18th century setting I was absolutely obsessed with what things were made of -- all the different materials that went into clothing and jewelery and furnishings, boxes, eating utensils, weapons, clocks, and so forth. An odd interest, some of you may be thinking, but it amused me.

I'm of the opinion that however much of the writer's research ends up directly on the page, he or she should actually know much, much more than that. I think it shows up indirectly, if only in the mistakes that we DON'T make. But also it can make a difference (related, I think, to what Brian said) in inventing the characters and their situation. If we learn all we can about how they might live in their world and experience it, then perhaps we can deduce other important things about them, which may even carry an otherwise familiar story in unexpected directions.

But other than these indirect ways, how do some of you other writers inject your research -- or for that matter, any purely imaginary worldbuilding -- into a story without making it too obvious? Does it all come out through the viewpoint character's direct experience? Is it part of the narration/exposition? Do you slip it into the conversation? Preface each chapter with an excerpt from the Encylopedia Galactica or the Annals of Faerie?

Leto, have you ever come across a really excellent series of books -- or at least all of them that were eventually translated into English and read by me were excellent -- originally written in French, the titles of which were all along the lines of "Daily Life in Georgian England," or "Daily Life in the Holy Land in Biblical Times"*?

I know that only a fraction of the titles were translated, which is very frustrating for me, because I don't read or speak French (even if I could get my hands on the books), but I'm thinking they would be a marvelous source for French (or Belgian, or other French-speaking) writers of fantasy or historical fiction. The handful that I've read are just jam-packed full of great information.

*Not to be confused with a newer series with similar titles, written in English and published by Writers Digest Books.

You means those books :
Yes, they're very helpful - as well as some "Que sais-je ?" (What do I know?) on technical, medical or legal points.

Knivesout, the first info "Silk cut" gives in Hellblazer, is simply that Constantine is from UK and not from US. When he first appeared in DC universe (in Swam Thing comics), he was in US (Florida IIRC) and Alan Moore needed something to identify him as British. Hence Silk Cut and no Malboro.

[Teresa Edgerton]

Leto -- That looks like one I didn't even know about! Are they still bringing out new titles in the series?

Polymorphikos -- Epoch mining is a good way to make all the separate parts (art, literature, costume, waste management) hang together and make sense as a whole. I really enjoy reading stories of that sort if they are done quite well and bring in authentic details that haven't been used a thousand times before (like, for instance, that all the servants in the royal household get part of their wages in candle-ends -- and the percentage of wax to tallow stubs is a reflection of their status), because in my opinion the past is an alien realm, every bit as fantastic as some invented ones. Or at least it is if the characters think and act and experience their world in a way that is a close approximation of the way they would have done, rather than just being modern people in fancy dress.

But the research helps even if the writer plans to invent every detail from scratch, because it promotes an understanding of how some things HAVE to work. So that you don't invent armor that no one could possible fight in, or a sewage system that would back up in a microsecond and flood everyone with stinking goo. Or that you don't have a feudal society where nobody acts in a way that would allow them -- or the feudal society, for that matter -- to survive. Research tells you things like: Armor has to be either articulated or flexible like chain-mail. If it's time to get the harvest in and the adults are short-handed and starvation looms, the children will NOT be in school, even if gathering them all together at the school house so the raiders can come in and sweep them all away is convenient for the plot. (A close friend of mine made this mistake.) Or if a society doesn't have a convenient source of heat and light along the lines of electricity, a lot of time and energy is going to be devoted to keeping the fire going.

Knivesout -- such is my ignorance of the modern world in which we live, I had no idea that Silk Cuts were cigarettes, though I suppose the illustrations in a comic book would have made this clear.

[Leto]

Yes, they still do. Accessible by Amazon.fr.

[Teresa Edgerton]

Now all I have to do is learn French, which is rather unlikely.

Oh well, maybe, since the original line is still flourishing, they will translate some more one of these days.

* * *

I have another question -- how much do you all think the physical environment should correspond to our own earth? In fantasy, I mean, because obviously SF writers setting their stories on different planets are not going to be able to have a lot of terrestrial species on hand unless they can come up with a very good explanation.

So, in fantasy worlds primarily, how much should the flora and the fauna and the landscape in general differ from our own? Should ALL the plants and animals be different? If so, how much time should you spend describing them and explaining their uses? Should one arrange for a few extra moons up in the sky? How about some unique weather?

My own opinion is that once you have humans and horses (which most fantasy does) and perhaps dogs and cats and wolves, too, you might just as well go ahead and go the whole way and have pine, spruce, oak, ash, and thorn. Inventing every last species of plant and animal not only means a lot of time explaining them (time which might better go into furthering the story), plus, you either have to do a really enormous amount of inventing, or else the species you do invent will probably get mentioned again and again, sometimes to the point of tedium. Or even worse, you could end up with a remarkably empty landscape.

Mind you, I have read and enjoyed a handful of books where this sort of thing was very well done, but often it's just awkward. So as a reader I tend to be wary of these books, though enthusiastic when they turn out to be better than I thought they would be.

As a writer, my preference is for mostly earth plants and animals, with a few alien species thrown in for local color. That way, I can give vivid descriptions of the terrain (I hope) without being excessively long-winded. As for the animals, so many of them come with magical associations and interesting symbolism, I'd hate to give them up. Also, these familiar things help to ground the story.

When it comes to things like unique weather and extra moons, I feel like when they are there the writer should fully consider the consequences. Because something as big and important as an extra moon or two WILL have consequences: physical, cultural, liguistic, mythological, etc. Otherwise, it's just set-dressing, like someone painted another moon on the backdrop.

For instance, in my own epic in progress, the world has recently gone through a cataclysmic event when the moon was forced out of its former (more or less circular) orbit into something far more noticably elliptic. More than a hundred years later, human and non-human societies are still reeling from the consequences.

What else should a fantasy world have? Different seasons? A longer day or year? Should the people have a longer (or shorter) lifespan than ours? And if any of the above (or something I haven't mentioned) what are some of the world-building consequences that you have to consider then?

[Leto]

That's only depends on the settings. If you imagine your fantasy world is an earlier Earth, no need to change a lot of things (look at Tolkien for examples), just the ones which will add to the story (the longer life span of Aragon's ancestors for example), the reader will assume everything else is the same.

If your fantasy world is a parallel world, go ahead and invent everything you want. Although usually the few fantasy writers I've read didn't changed a lot of things, except once again those meaningful to the story.

[Teresa Edgerton]

In your own writing, how much of the story arises out of the setting, and how much of the setting is dictated by the story?

Assuming that you start with at least a rough idea of the plot -- are you willing to modify that if, in working out the background details (history, culture, etc.), a new and interesting direction occurs to you? Or if you realize (or someone points out to you) that certain plot points don't make sense in the context, do you reinvent the context to make it all work?

How "organic" do you all think the story and the setting should be to one another?

[polymorphikos]

I am easily distracted as a writer, so I set my current work (I really hate referring to it because it sounds pretentious, but I must) in a completely-imaginary world, with only humans, a few human-like species and a number of terran species integrated in (only minor ones that might have been brought along by colonists). The reason being so I can use the book as an excuse to fill it with descriptions of the countryside and creatures and cultures, because I'm reasonably-good at coming up with the former two. So whilst the plot remains the same, it bends to and fro slightly as an excuse for me to throw weird stuff in.