So, Naomi, it's only the unitary 'kitchen sink' setting that would put you off - not, say, a condemned cell, or a coal mine after a rockfall? R x

But such books are rarely confined to the one setting aren't they? The trapped characters go off into their memories; then there are the people working on their rescue/release...there are little sub-plots that get the reader out and about.

A topic so relevant to me at the moment, I've signed up to contribute.

I am currently writing my first novel, only a few chapters in (though fairly well planned out). The setting is one house and its immediate environs, and it concerns only six characters, although with a smattering of others in two or three flashback scenes I'm planning.

I, too, was concerned that this very circumscribed world would produce difficulties but the story absoluely demanded the geographic restriction.

However, the more I write, the more I discover that as well as difficulties, the situation is proving inspirational, too. Because I can't go outwards, I have to go inwards. I find that there are wells of detail, both within the characters and around them, that enrich the story. Keeping the number of elements restricted keeps the story tight.

I once read that Vivaldi (I think this is right) was restricted to a small orchestra for the performance of his Four Seasons suite and that he found inspiration in that restriction. A bit like the inspiration that can arise from having to rhyme the lines of a poem, rather than having the endless choice and resultant sprawl of free verse?

Interesting reference to Twelve Angry Men, Rosy. That was written in 'French scenes', so that although the action is all played out in one place, the characters group and regroup constantly, changing 'scene' within one scene, as it were. This was used often in 'Friends', too, especially around the couch in the coffee shop. It's very effective, I think, on film or on stage but I would perhaps use it sparingly within a novel. If you are literally playing out entire scenes/chapters around a kitchen table, that could become very dull.

I think, done well, sparingly populated novels in circumscribed locations can be stunning.

Anyway, just my twopennorth.

(As an aside, I am also discovering the real reason I (perhaps all writers?) don't like being asked 'what's it about?' Not only is it an irritatingly obvious question, it is unanswerable. My story is changing and getting better as I work on it. It might be a different beast by the time it's finished)

Hi, workingtitle, and welcome


Has anyone mentioned P.D. James' The Lighthouse? Although, admittedly, they do have the whole island to roam around.

Welcome, Workingtitle! Your post makes me feel a bit better - the part about digging deeply inwards makes such sense.

R x

Robert McKee talks about constructing a small world for your characters. Not necessarily in the physical sense, but all the more intense if it is.
I agree with him that what is of the highest importance is that the reader feels the writer has mastery of the world. And that's difficult to do well if nets are cast too far. If you feel that your writing is better, the story more credible, for keeping setting tight, then you know best would be my view.
Nothing worse than writers who change set for no damn good reason. It's just motion for motion's sake.
HBx

does anyone find that they have used physical, geographical movement to give dynamism or a shake-up to their story?

I've been writing a book which would be part of an adventure series for 8 - 12 year olds recently, where I move very deliberately from one country, one location, to another, coinciding with changes in pace and plot. But that's a whole other kettle of fish.