Setting as character
They say you should write what you know. I say that’s boring.
If I already know, how will I learn?
If one grounds a story in the real world, as I tend to do, it’s important to get at least some of your facts straight. But I don’t think the facts should get in the way of a good story.
These days, it’s too easy to pull up a web browser and dive down the rabbit hole…which leads to another rabbit hole, and another, and so on. Before long, you know way too much about the evolution of cassette tapes.
To be fair, one might need an understanding of cassette tapes if writing a novel set in 1969. Those characters will not bust out their iPhones when in need of some rock ’n’ roll. Groovy, am I right?
When it comes to writing what you know versus making it up as you go along, I like to split the difference. Especially when it comes to setting.
I often pull from my own travels and overseas experiences in my written works, although I wouldn’t necessarily consider the setting to be a major character in my story like some writers do. The setting is always important, but the point is never to show off my area familiarity with the Middle East or Africa or wherever I happen to stick my characters. Do you care about every hidden alleyway in the Old City of Sanaa, Yemen? I’m willing to bet that the vast majority of readers do not. But do you care about how Americans, serving their country, navigate the gray areas in which they find themselves in a place like Yemen? That seems more interesting.
For my first novel, I decided to write what I didn’t know. I set the book during and in the Vietnam War, but I’ve never been to Vietnam (and I wasn’t alive during the war). The war, and therefore Vietnam, is a critical component of the story, of course; but A Summer of War isn’t really about the war or the country in which it’s fought. It’s about a young journalist on a quest to make her mark, and the people she meets along the way. I think it’s a lot less important to know the exact geography, topography, fauna, and flora of the Mekong Delta and far more compelling to delve into what drives a young woman in 1960s America to war.
Conversely, I went with what I do know with The Stars Refuse to Shine. Years ago, pre-civil war, I spent some quality time in Yemen. When the characters came to me, I knew instantly that Yemen was where they belonged. Like Vietnam, Yemen is a minor but important character in the story. The cast’s adventures would have looked much different in, say, London or Paris or Dubai than a country on the brink of catastrophe. And the point is not that catastrophe; it’s about who you are, and who you become, when the world is falling down around you.
The first three books of The Sandstorm Series, of which The Stars Refuse to Shine is the leadoff, are all set in places I know well enough to describe in detail: Yemen, Turkey, and Mali. But I prefer to fill my pages with how my characters relate to these lands, not how I once did during my travels.
Write what you know, write what you don’t know, or stake out the middle ground. Whatever you do, don’t let setting get in the way of a good story.
