Creating a Sense of Place in Fiction
The magic of reading is letting your surroundings drop away and losing yourself in a different “reality” the writer has created. Although I love books that take me to far-away places, in the end, the books I find myself most drawn to are the books that take me home.
A native South Carolinian, I grew up in the small town of Walterboro, South Carolina. It is small now—it was smaller then. And it had that certain something that so effortlessly morphs from hospitality and “bless your heart” to haunted shadows lingering beneath moss-laden trees—a distinctive essence that makes the South a fascinating setting for mysteries and thrillers. My word for that essence is “charmageddon.”
Many small Southern communities share a similar essence—something elusive that we recognize but that evades definition. As Justice Potter Stewart put it, “I know it when I see it.” (Okay, so he was talking about pornography, but the phrase still works.) And yet, elusive as it may be, there are talented writers who manage to capture it so well that we find ourselves transported there.
My debut novel, When Cicadas Cry, is a Southern legal thriller set in Walterboro and nearby Edisto Beach. I know the setting well, but I wanted to learn from some of the masters how to convey its aura in a way that would let my readers experience it. As I studied their work, I noticed that, among authors who do “Southern” best, there are setting techniques they all seem to have in common. I’m sure I have not identified them all, but here are five techniques I saw used frequently by my favorite Southern writers.
Use your senses.
Let the reader see, hear, smell, taste, and feel whatever your character is experiencing. Pay attention to how your place changes with the seasons, the weather, or the time of day.
John Hart has an incredible talent for making this look effortless. Consider his bestseller The Last Child. Prose-y and powerful, this is the story of 13-year-old Johnny Merrimon. Johnny’s childhood was safe and happy… until it wasn’t. In the year since his sister was abducted, his father abandoned them, the bank took the house, and his mother took up with an abusive drunk who introduced her to drug addiction. Every adult he trusted abandoned or abused him, and Johnny lives in the shadows, evading social services and school officials.
Hart’s artful description of detail draws us into the setting. Far from making the story drag, his sensory load feels like poetry washing over us and dropping us right there with young Johnny, hearts in throats, as the stranger stalks him.
Make “sense” [of place] with themes.
Although it often gets marginalized as “sweet tea” and “hey y’all,” Southern culture is complex and layered. In studying the works of Southern authors I admire, it seems that often their overriding themes revolve around one of more of these four Southern idiosyncrasies: religion (especially when the pulpit is highjacked by something sinister masquerading as a savior), family ties (when mixed with betrayal), poverty/rural isolation, and racism.
Flannery O’Connor set the gold standard for this technique. Consider her Southern Gothic A Good Man is Hard to Find. The novella is 64 pages long and its plot only bare bones, yet it paints a vivid picture, weighty with detail. That family’s fateful encounter with “The Misfit” could not have had the same impact without those complicated layers of Southern culture—religion, family ties, rural isolation, poverty, and callous racism—she so masterfully wove in.
And, if you have not read Truman Capote’s autobiographical The Thanksgiving Visitor or A Christmas Memory, put this WD article away now, and get to your nearest local bookstore. These short stories are a must read for those interested in mastering Southern settings.
Adjust the lens.
Some scenes call for detailed descriptions of the surroundings. Immerse your reader in live oaks trailing Spanish moss, weather-beaten shrimp boats, and white-columned piazzas (or their counterparts in your setting). But scenes with high tension and fast action require that you adjust the lens. If your character is in a bar fight, don’t slow that down with too much scenery. Stick to the details essential to keep a sense of place without killing the scene.
Check out Caroline Cleveland’s When Cicadas Cry here:
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Spy on the neighbors.
Aside from the scenery, perhaps the most notable difference between Walterboro, and, say, New York City, is the difference between small-town Southerners and New Yorkers. Let the supporting cast work for you. Who are the locals in your setting? Where do they gather, what do they eat, and how do they talk? Do they share a belief system?
John Grisham does this so expertly that I find myself thinking, Hey, I know that guy. His manner of capturing the mannerisms and habits of small-town Southerners is masterful. And he manages to do it with a gentle sarcasm that is somehow infused with fondness. Consider his description in A Time to Kill of the eternal battle between the Baptists, the Methodists, and the Presbyterians as they compete, not to save the damned, but to be the congregation to end Sunday services earliest and get to the restaurants first, where they sit and s-l-o-w-l-y eat Sunday lunch while they wave at the others waiting in line.
Another great example is Blood Drive, from his Ford County short story collection. Every time I read it, I wonder whether Grisham has stumbled upon my high school year book. I can hear their gossiping and see the food table, heavy with casseroles and cakes. And those paper plates—you know the ones—with those scalloped edges, so thin that you have to peel them apart to take a plate. I cannot laugh at these characters without also loving them. Mr. Grisham truly has a gift for showing rural Southerners.
See ghosts of the past.
Every place has a past that influences its present, and history can create context. For Southern settings, the harsh history of slavery leaves an indelible stain that colors the present.
When it comes to the South’s history of racism and the judicial system, there are two novels that jump to mind: A Time to Kill and To Kill a Mockingbird. Those authors used that history and its continuing influence to show why their characters made the choices they made.
Grisham’s story is set in 1984; Lee’s in the 1930s. Surely things are different now—right? My debut, When Cicadas Cry, invites you to consider that question, incorporating real-life events from the South Carolina Lowcountry such as the Mother Emanuel AME Church massacre, and the police shooting of Walter Scott.
When a white woman is bludgeoned with an altar cross and the young Black man kneeling over her insists he is innocent, Zach Stander takes the case and finds himself fighting both a powerful solicitor and rampant racism. When his investigator/lover opens a cold case, they discover this small Southern town is hiding long-buried secrets. What they don’t know is a killer has infiltrated their inner circle and will kill to keep those secrets.
In writing my book, I tried to utilize these five techniques of accomplished authors to help make the Southern setting I love come alive and create a sense of place. Perhaps you will find them helpful too:
Use your senses,Adjust the Lens,Make “sense” [of place] with themes,Spy on the neighbors, andSee ghosts of the past.
I practice law in Charleston, South Carolina, representing public entities including law enforcement. If you’d like to know more about me or my book, please visit me at www.CarolineClevelandAuthor.com.
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