Short Story Craft, Part 3: Setting

In preparation for the 2020 RMFW anthology, I’m doing a series of blog posts on short story craft. While plot and character are the two most important elements of your story, setting comes in a close third. In my opinion, setting is the fastest way to elevate a good story to a great one. A well-crafted setting can add conflict, reveal character, and ultimately bring the story world to life. But how much setting is too little, and how much is overkill?

You need at least enough setting to ground the reader so they can envision what’s happening. Start with the basics. Where is the scene taking place? Outdoors or indoors? Big space or small? Time of day, time of year? Hot and sunny, or cold and wet? Is the character alone or in a crowd? Of course, you don’t need to answer all of these questions in every scene—just enough to help the reader feel grounded.

Then incorporate a few sensory details. Readers will feel more immersed in the story when they can see, hear, feel, and smell it. Think about colors, patterns, and textures. Go beyond the visual into how the place feels: temperature, humidity, snowflakes in the air, or dust picked up by the wind. Think about the deeper meaning, inferences that can be drawn from the setting. A glossy mahogany table indicates wealth and status, while a table covered in scratches and dents suggests the opposite.

Show these details through the point-of-view character’s eyes to reveal her attitude toward the setting. For example, if your protagonist is walking toward a building, you might compare it to a gingerbread house if she’s excited to visit it—or a haunted house if she’s not. In this way, your setting can do double duty, both grounding the reader and developing your characters.

But beware, gentle writer: The map of your story is littered with info-dump quagmires and the corpses of lost attention spans. To keep readers engaged, feed them setting details in small doses. Don’t fall into the trap of static settings, where the character enters a room and lists all of its features for the reader’s benefit. Instead, weave the setting into the action. Mention the lumpiness of the sofa as the character sits on it, or the color of the lamp as the character turns it on.

Even better, actively involve your setting in the story by using it as a source of conflict. There are many ways to do this. You could have a character lost in a forest, facing toxic plants, feral animals, and the threat of hypothermia as night sets in. Or he could be lost in a city, facing muggers, street gangs, and the dangers of sleeping on the street during an impending snowstorm. You can find danger anywhere, whether it’s a hotel room or a colony on Mars, an enchanted castle or a roller rink.

Settings can also create less tangible forms of conflict. Think social hierarchies, prejudice, and oppression. Gossip, paranoia, mass hysteria. Toxic ideologies. Religious and political disagreements. Culture shock. Ideas are a powerful thing; use them to your advantage.

You’ve probably heard the advice to treat your setting like a character. Give it a personality, a history, a relationship with other characters. What happened in this setting before your story began? What does it mean to the people who inhabit it? What does it symbolize? Setting is a great way to create internal conflict for the point-of-view character. Maybe she feels uncomfortable visiting this place because it reminds her of the terrible accident that occurred here years ago. Or perhaps it highlights his fear of commitment by making him feel physically claustrophobic. Mine the deepest, darkest corners of your characters. Use their flaws, fears, and past traumas to maximize the conflict with your setting.

Setting is tricky. Too many writers (including me, a few years ago) shy away from it out of fear of drowning their readers in info dumps. But when you spend time nurturing your setting and getting to know it—just like you do your characters—it can take your story to a whole new level.

How are those short stories coming along? If you’re working on one for the 2020 anthology (or any other publication), how is it going? What have you learned? Are you trying out a new genre or style? Share your experience in the comments!