Setting the mood might mean candles, music, wine. Setting the scene, though, means telling your reader where the hell they are.
As a writer, you likely often find yourself writing in one of two modes:
- Imagination running on full-power, everything vividly playing out in your mind as your fingers dance over the keys.
- Tired. Doubting. No imagination. You’re just trying to meet that stupid writing goal you set for yourself, so you squeeze out a word…another word…a sentence…
In both of those modes, writers often forget a key element: scene setting.
When you’re feeling inspired and it’s all just flowing out of your fingers, you’re picturing things clearly. It’s easy to forget that your reader doesn’t have that picture, unless you give it to them. Which often requires more detail than you might think.
When you’re feeling uninspired, you might be struggling to picture the scene yourself. You’re just trying to crank out the essential action beats and dialogue. So if you can’t clearly visualize the scene, your reader certainly won’t be able to.
What is scene setting, and why does it matter?
Failing to set the scene is something I’ve seen frequently among newer writers. Their characters might be great, the plot might be thrilling, the worldbuilding deliciously complex, but readers aren’t going to be able to fully appreciate any of those things if they just don’t know what’s happening.
And that’s what scene setting does—it gives your reader the perhaps-boring-but-definitely-essential details of:
- Who
- What
- When
- Where
- (and sometimes,) Why
Let’s break it down.
Who is present in the scene? MC only, or are they with other people? Are there passersby?
What is the MC (and the other present characters, if relevant) doing? Sharpening a sword, eating dinner, watching a movie?
When is this, in relation to the last scene? Whenever there’s a scene or chapter break, or any sort of time lapse, the reader will be searching for clues as to how much time has passed. Don’t make them search too hard.
Where is the MC? Are they outside, inside; somewhere familiar, somewhere new? What’s in their surroundings?
And, sometimes, why are they where they are, when they are, doing what they are doing? This might be inherently implied, but in some scenes, you may need to spell it out a little. Especially if what’s happening in this scene doesn’t seem to correlate with what happened in the last scene. If the MC uncovered a huge family secret in the last scene, and now they’re grocery shopping, we might need some explanation. Maybe they’re shopping because they find it relaxing, and they need time to think. Maybe stress gave them mad cravings. Maybe they have to act normal, to avoid anyone else finding out what they know, so they had to cheerfully accept their spouse’s request to stop at the store.
How to set the scene, with examples
Don’t just dump all these details on your reader at the opening of the scene.
Jerry was sitting in his living room, staring at the carpet. The entirety of his father’s side of the family was in the house, some scattered around him chatting, some in the kitchen preparing food, some keeping an eye on his younger cousins. It was Thanksgiving day, one week from when Jerry had learned his mother’s secret.
That gets the job done, but…meh.
Instead, weave the details in bit by bit, starting with whatever is most essential for the reader to start visualizing the scene (usually who and where). Try to fit in all the W’s within the first few paragraphs of a new scene.
Jerry stared at a scattering of crumbs on his living room carpet. He suspected one of his young cousins had made the mess. Any compulsion he felt to clean it up was overruled by the likelihood of those crumbs being soaked in baby drool, and his unwillingness to move—sitting here, motionless, was safest. His aunts and uncles and grandparents milled and chatted all around him, drifting from one moving target to the next. They honed in on whoever looked alert, alive. Jerry, holding up his phone in his lap so that it roughly aligned with his line of sight, hardly looked either.
Besides, the crumbs would soon be taken care of by his dog. Rex never let any dropped morsel live for long. The labrador was just too occupied in the kitchen, licking his chops as Jerry’s mom and several aunts flurried about to prepare the Thanksgiving feast.
Despite the risk of appearing alert and open for conversation, Jerry couldn’t keep from glancing up at his mother. She looked a tad flustered, cheeks red from the oven’s heat, but she smiled and laughed easily with his aunts.
All of them were unaware of what she’d done. Who she really was.
Only he knew. Had known, for a week now, but had said nothing. He’d just stared at his phone, at the carpet, smiled when it was expected and spoken when spoken to. All while the secret slowly devoured him from the inside like acid.
Don’t forget ongoing scene setting
That’s setting the scene at the opening, but the thing is, you need to continue scene setting throughout every scene. It keeps the reader grounded. It helps them visualize.
Dialogue exchanges are another place where writers often struggle to sufficiently set the scene, and that leads to something called “floating heads.” I’ll talk about that more in a future post, but the gist is—too much back-and-forth dialogue without action beats, description, or sensory details leaves the reader unable to really step into the scene, because they have nothing to visualize.
So, whether you’re in full-strength-inspiration, words-flowing-freely writing mode, or uninspired, I-just-need-to-finish-this-page mode, don’t skip those scene-setting details. You can always go back in and add them later, if writing them in the moment bogs you down.
Unsure? Ask a beta reader!
If you’re not sure whether you’re hitting the right balance of scene setting, get a fresh set of eyes on it! Ask someone to read the scene and tell you whether they can visualize it. This is something I’m happy to give quick, free feedback on, too, for individual scenes.