Recently I’ve done a great deal of thinking about scene setting. This was prompted by seeing Les Miz the movie after having seen the stage version several times. The story and most of the music were the same, but the scene settings were completely opposite. The stage version had very few props, while the movie was opulent.
We all have to do it. Whether our world is a book, play, or movie is set in the 21st century, an historical period, or a fantasy world of the author’s own making, setting the scene is what draws the reader into our creation. Helps make them identify with our characters, and make the book, movie or play one they’ll enjoy.
Which do you like better, sparse, lavish, or something in between? Please post an excerpt with showing your preference. Here is mine from The Temptation of Lady Serena releasing in January 2014.
1814, Scottish Border Region
The Earl of Weir scowled. “Damn it, Serena, you can’t back out now. Not after the plans have been made. If you don’t go to London who will you marry? What do you have left here?”
Lady Serena Weir stared out the solar’s window, studying the bleak late February landscape. Snow covered the ground, more gray than white; the trees lifeless and black against the gloom. She glanced over her shoulder at her brother, James. “I could marry Cameron.”
“Do you even care for him more than moderately?”
“No, but he needs to marry, and he likes me.” She turned back to the window. Snow still covered the hills. In another month they’d be the feeding ground for the castle’s sheep and cattle. But if Mattie, her new sister-in-law, had
her way, Serena would not be there to see it.
James snorted with derision. “Cameron likes your dowry. Mattie has made all the plans. She assures me you’ll have a wonderful time.”
Serena pressed her lips tightly together. The plans, he’d said, as if they had taken on a life. The plans for her to go to London for her first Season at six and twenty years of age. A little old to be making a come out. The plans meant she would leave her home. The place she had been born and raised and never before left. Tears pricked her eyelids. She would not cry. Not in front of James. If a London Season was such a good idea, why hadn’t he sold out of the army after their father died, when she was still young? Instead, he’d left her here to manage the estate while he remained on Wellington’s staff.
James returned shortly before Christmas, with his bride, Madeleine—Mattie, as she liked to be called—and Serena’s ordered life was thrown into turmoil. She no longer knew what her future held.
Despite her warm cashmere dress and woolen shawl, Serena shivered. No matter how many fires were lit, Vere was always cold and damp, even in the solar, the warmest room in the castle. London would probably be warmer. That might be a good reason to go.
James teased her in the local dialect. “Serena, lass…”
She bit her lip. “James Weir, I know you did not speak Scots with Wellington.”
“Please, Sissy?” Her brother said, reverting to his childhood name for her. “Stop looking out the window and talk to me.”
Serena sighed, but turned. Her brother was tall with dark brown hair, like their mother’s, whereas she had her father’s auburn curls. She’d known he would marry, but it never occurred to her he would bring a wife home with him. Or that Serena would be forced to leave.
Serena fought her sudden panic, but there truly was nothing here for her anymore. “Fine. I’ll go.”
“Good girl!” He smiled. “I’ll tell Mattie it’s settled.”
James gave Serena a peck on the cheek and strode out the door.
“Do. Go tell Mattie,” Serena muttered in frustration. What didn’t he tell Mattie?
London was Mattie’s idea to rid herself of her unwanted sister-in-law. Serena had been presented with the plans au fait accompli. Somehow, she would have to make the best of it.
ellaquinnauthor
Beautiful Imagery Ella. Tweeted.
Thanks, Nancy. I appreciate it.
Wonderful post Ella. Well done. The excerpt I would post is rather long, but you can find it here: http://margarettaylorsthoughts.blogspot.com/2013/01/todays-thoughts.html
Lovely excerpt, Margaret. Thanks so much for stopping by.
The imagery was excellent, but even more excellent was your adept placement within your story. You didn’t stop the story to create the scene, you deftly played it out within the scene, never allowing it to distract from the fabulous, heart wrenching situation you revealed in this chapter.
I am so overwhelmed with how good this is, I’m going to tweet about it. I wonder if I can use the little icon below to do so. Wish me luck!
Liza, thank you. What a wonderful compliment from a great author.
Beautifully written excerpt, Ella! I’m normally a sparse to in-between scene description writer. When I read, I think I fall more toward liking the sparse side of description because I like to get to the action quicker…but it sometimes depends on the story
Karen, thank you. I get lost when there is too much detail.
Wonderful.
Thanks so much, Daryl.
Wonderful excerpt Ella. I lean to the sparse side myself, but I think it adds a great deal to the story.
Thanks, Karen. I agree.
I even felt a little cold while reading that excerpt. Well done without being overdone.
Thanks so much, Angelyn.
Excellent excerpt, Ella. I’ve not read this book before and I can hardly wait for the full. Lovely setting.
Below is a setting from Only Scandal Will Do–The House of Pleasure as Duncan sees it on the night he meets Katarina.
“My God, look at the crowd!” Duncan said as he and Tommy entered the main public room of the House of Pleasure. So many patrons were sandwiched together. The brothel could easily hold upward of five hundred patrons; tonight it burst at the seams, the crowd swollen by the novelty of the tableau auction. Notorious for its ability to instigate debauchery, the house’s atmosphere already approached that of a drunken orgy.
A former gambling club, the establishment boasted a style hovering barely one rung above the vulgar. Cut-crystal chandeliers illuminated walls painted with murals, reputedly by Boucher himself, depicting highly erotic mythological and pastoral scenes. Marble statuary throughout posed in lascivious and provocative positions. Exotic, Chippendale chinoiserie sofas–their woodwork carved to resemble delectable parts of the female anatomy–invited patrons to fondle and fantasize. The decor alone had been known to make men hard.
Very nice, Jenna. I feel like I’m there.
Very nice! I am running behind today, so don’t have time to post!
Thanks for stopping by D’Ann.
What a wonderful excerpt, Ella. I love writing that gives me enough setting to anchor the story and create a picture in my mind, but not so much detail that it slows the story to a crawl. Well done!
Thanks so much, Ally.
I plenty of scene setting, but not all at once. When done correctly, it can really enhance the experience.
Great excerpt, Ella!
Jenn!
I had to learn it as well, Jenn. I’m glad you liked the scene. Thank you.
Wonderful scene! I’ll have to read the book when it’s released.
I’m a middle of the road author as well. I don’t like to be overwhelmed by description when I’m reading (slog through pages), but I do feel the book is a little sparse if I’m not given enough.
Stacy thanks so much.
I love your excerpt, Ella. Can’t wait for that book to be released. Very good scene, I felt Serena’s pain (I don’t mean that to sound cheesy, but sincere.) Well done.
Thanks, Callie.
Great excerpt. I personally, like description. In fact it was the one thing I had to really learn not to overdo. I like to set the stage pretty much as I see it in my mind. I’ve been known to describe the color of counter tops and the type (ex: marble vs granite) in kitchens. The color and texture of a couch, besides where the windows are and what kind of curtains are on them.
Thanks, Sara. LOL, I have to make myself add.
I’m a firm believer in balance when it comes to scene setting, I still can’t remember anything much about the LOTR books beyond there being a lot of trees. (Thank god for Peter Jackson or I wouldn’t have any idea what happened.)
But I know that when I write, I focus on action and dialog while leaving setting description in the dust.
LOL, Tanya. Thanks for stopping by.
Ella great excerpt sorry to be late reading and posting. I shared it on facebook and tweeted. I’m in between on the description. I don’t want a whole lot but some to show me where they are and what it is like there.
Here’s a little setting excerpt, I tend to skimp on settins even though they’re important.
The club had recovered from the ravages of time, neglect and downright abandonment. Outside the club had sported a bright new sign, a fresh adobe façade and signs marking where to enter, along with clear rules regarding no smoking and age limits. Inside in the dark, you’d never notice the changes.
But Amanda noticed. Little things like the walls no longer bore traces of the water stains from a leaking roof, the discoloration of nicotine and the smell that permeated the place from the years when smoke filled the small room. She’d avoided the place after one date left her sick from the smoke and other stuff in the place. She shuddered at the memory of how the restroom had reeked. Along with the nightmares about the terror that drove her out when a rat ran across the counter area around the sinks.
Now all sleek and modern, none of the dinginess remained. Tonight Club 10 hosted its grand reopening and women packed it. They crowed each other each one vying for the best spot to view the upcoming show. Some stood around chatting others were screaming, shouting and clapping to the music piped in from hidden speakers. Still the low lighting made it impossible to see all their faces.
Nice job, C.K. Thanks for posting.
Great excerpt, Ella! I think that’s a lovely blend – something that is not always easy to master! Can’t wait to read your story!
Thank you so much Lana.
Nice excerpt, Ella. I enjoy moderation when the scene is set…enough detail to get the feeling without so much that the characters and story are lost.
Here’s my excerpt, from my first Regency novel, Marisa’s Choice:
They set off at once, Rockwell handing Marisa and Lyvia into his barouche and taking his position opposite them. He instructed his driver to make haste to Hyde Park and settled back to enjoy the ride. The day was cool, with clouds drifting across a grey sky.
This was Marisa’s first real view of fashionable London, of the ton dressed in their finest for show. She was impressed by the many different styles and range of vibrant colours, but not overly so, for some of these people must possess more time and money than they did common sense. She preferred someone like Lord Rockwell (who was currently relating to them the Duke of York’s latest practical joke), who could no doubt afford the most outrageous fashion and instead chose a conservative, yet impeccable, appearance in public. Since their arrival in London, Will had also shown that he was of that same school of thought.
They reached Hyde Park in due time, a bit ahead of the crush, which allowed them an excellent view as they drew past the formal gardens. Soon, however, the press of carriages, phaetons, laudelets, and men on horseback was so great that they were at a virtual standstill, waiting for the path ahead of them to clear.
Thank you, Kadee. Yours has a very nice setting. I can really see it.
I do love that excerpt, Ella! I love the byplay between brother and sister and I love her view of what to some might be a bleak landscape but to her is home. It is a rare writer who can convey not just setting, but what a character feels about that setting. Well done!
Here is another excerpt from Wicked in His Arms
Eve pulled the folds of her mother’s old shepherd’s shawl tight against the swirling white heralds of the night’s coming storm. Snow. Inconvenient, dastardly and utterly unaware of the muck it made of her plans, the flakes fell in great lumps onto the ramparts and the lawns below her stone perch. Snow was like the horrible girl in the pretty party dress who insisted the party stop and everyone do nothing at all but admire her. Unfortunately what looked to be a bully of a winter storm could not be pushed into a punch bowl and forced to leave the party in tears.
She’d climbed to the battlements of the north tower to watch Mr. Crosby and his friend, Hightower, leave. Not out of any particular interest in either of them. She needed to see them disappear over the horizon, nothing else. In light of the change in the weather, the dictates of common decency meant they’d have to stay the night. He’d have to stay the night.
A hot shiver unfurled down her spine and wove around her body in tiny vines of molten heat. She stomped her foot in frustration and followed the wall walk to the other side of the tower. The hodge-podge of Wicken End’s vast structure stretched out to disappear into the white cover of mist and snow. Uncle P was right. After her last encounter with Dashwood and Hightower all those years ago she had retreated to this isolated mausoleum. Here lay safety and anonymity and the perfect place to hide. From herself.
She braced her hands on the stone wall and leaned into the feathery ballet of snowflakes. At sixteen she could claim ignorance and a foolish heart for the passionate urges she’d given in to. This afternoon she had no such excuse. Dylan Crosby had pulled her reckless sensual nature from its long sleep with a mere touch and a look. God only knew what he might awaken if he set his mind to it. His lips promised heaven and his body all the fire and exquisite torture of hell. Even now she smelled his clean masculine cologne mixed with the exhilarating scent of winter wind.
“Watching for a valiant knight to rescue you or looking for a place to toss Hightower’s body?”
She startled and careened into instant awareness. Of him. Of the overwhelming warmth of him even a few feet away. In the changeable light of the lanterns mounted around the tower he looked not quite real. The black caped greatcoat he wore broadened his already wide shoulders and gave him an intense, unsettling air. Eve half expected him to brandish a pair of pistols rather than the small tray he carried.
Thanks so much, Louisa. I loved you excerpt.
I really liked what you wrote – your description immediately brought brother and sister to my imagination and the circumstances of a London season at 26 are intriguing. A few nitpicks (hope you don’t mind). “bleak late February’ doesn’t need the word late; snow covered the ground is followed a few sentences later by snow still covered the hills; warm cashmere dress is followed a short bit later by warmest room in the house – perhaps just cashmere dress?
Thank for you comments. I’m glad you came by.