Stalled first draft? Make plans for a new setting.
by Ruth Harris
Home is where the heart is. Or is it?
Home sweet home. Or is it?
You can’t go home again. Or can you? You can go from:
- Shirley Jackson’s spooky Hill House to the Best Little Whorehouse in Texas —
- The Rosemary’s Baby creepy West Side apartment in NYC to Manderley in Daphne du Maurier’s classic Gothic masterpiece, Rebecca
- From the outhouse to the penthouse —
Well-written details of houses and homes — or any place in which characters live and work — become permanently lodged in reader’s memories.
Houses — or homes as real estate brokers refer to them — and the rooms in them can delineate character, set a scene, replace or enhance back story, establish mood, theme or genre. And can save that stalled first draft.
From a hole in the ground to a tent to an elegant apartment on Park Avenue.
The famous first line of J.R.R. Tolkien’s classic children’s story, originally published in 1937 and never out of print, was written in a moment of sudden inspiration as the author, then pursuing an academic career, was grading papers. It tells us that—
In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit.
***
In No Place Like Home, Anne describes Joe Torres’s tent—
“His little campsite looked welcoming in the moonlight. He had a patched but serviceable dark green pop-up tent with a cleared area in front, covered by a tarp. It was equipped with two camp chairs and a folding table. He opened the tent flap and shone the flashlight beam around.
The place looked amazingly neat and cozy, with blankets smoothed out on a sizable inflated air mattress, a little table with a kerosene lamp, clothes hanging from a pole, and in all the corners were books—piles of paperbacks, some without covers, but all neatly stacked.
An inviting interior. It didn’t even smell bad.
***
Ruth’s million-copy NYT bestseller, Husbands and Lovers, begins as the main character comes home to an exclusive Park Avenue apartment building.
“At a quarter to eight on a gloriously autumnal evening, Carlys Webber Arnold stepped out of a taxi in front of her Park Avenue co-op. She remembered her gloomy one-room walk-up too far over on the East Side, and, because she did, she appreciated the impressive building in which she now lived, with its handsome limestone façade and solicitous staff.
She said good evening to the doorman, got into the elevator, and chatted with the elevator man as they ascended to the tenth floor. She stepped out of the elevator and crossed the few steps of thickly carpeted hallway to her own elegantly lacquered front door. Inserting the key into the lock, she opened it, and entered the apartment.
She was shocked to see her husband.”
A house can convey the perilous state of a family or the garish display of a bootlegger.
In Miles City, Montana, Alice Munro, Nobel Prize-winning Canadian writer of short stories describes a family home — and a family — in a single sentence .
“They lived in a steep-roofed, gray-shingled hillbilly sort of house that was just a bit better than a shack – the father fixed the roof and put supports under the porch, just enough and just in time – and their life was held together in a similar manner.”
***
F. Scott Fitzgerald in The Great Gatsby describes Gatsby’s house, the setting of his lavish parties.
“A colossal affair by any standard — it was a factual imitation of some Hôtel de Ville in Normandy, with a tower on one side, spanking new under a thin beard of raw ivy, and a marble swimming pool, and more than forty acres of lawn and garden.”
Hotels — shabby, sinister and splendid.
Elin Hilderbrand starts her bestseller, Hotel Nantucket, as—
“London-based billionaire, Xavier Darling, invests thirty million dollars in the crumbling eyesore that is the Hotel Nantucket.”
***
In The Shining, Stephen King transforms the haunted house into a haunted hotel. Here’s the scene in which the MC, a recovering alcoholic in desperate need of money, seeks a job as a caretaker, and the interviewer mentions that—
“Some of the third-floor chambermaids say they have heard rustling noises…”
***
Kay Thompson’s 1950s classic, Eloise, is about a six-year-old girl who lives at New York City’s Plaza Hotel in a “room on the tippy-top floor” with her Nanny, her pug dog Weenie and her turtle Skipperdee. This charming heroine, said to be based on Liza Minelli, finds adventure every place she looks and delights children and grown ups alike.
From a school of magic to a prison cell.
J. K. Rowling’s Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with its towers, turrets and dungeons is a fictional British boarding school supported by the Ministry of Magic — and a major presence in the Henry Potter series.
***
In Thomas Harris’s Silence of the Lambs, the prison cell inhabited by cannibal and serial killer, Hannibal Lector, is located in the maximum security wing of the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, and immediately conveys his menace.
When home is a space ship.
In Hitchiker’s Guide to the Galaxy—
“Looks like a fish, moves like a fish, steers like a cow.”
Homeless? Yes, homeless can work, too.
Jack Reacher famously travels with only a folding toothbrush.
His creator, Lee Child, comments, “The idea was to have a character that was plausibly rootless… Reacher is completely competent, but he’s just habituated to this fragmented life in the military, so he can’t settle into civilian society. The idea of staying anywhere for more than a few days is anathema to him.”
***
Here’s newly-homeless Doria in Anne’s No Place Like Home looking at the remnants of her dream home, which has burned down in a California fire.
“At the top of the hill beyond the willows was a stone fireplace, silhouetted against the moonlit sky. Her stone fireplace. The original—from the 1889 farmhouse that had been the foundation for more than a century of additions and “improvements.”
She’d so much wanted to get rid of the mid-twentieth century modifications and take it back to its Victorian splendor. But all of it was gone now. The fireplace stood naked and alone in the moonlight. The full force of her loss hit. Her dream retirement home — gone.”
***
A courteous derelict with multiple talents inhabits the doorway of an Indian restaurant on NYC’s Lower East Side In Ruth’s Park Avenue Blondes.
“A graffiti-scarred, dinged, and dented metal door was the only entrance. I wondered briefly why George was slumming it in the East Village and not lording it over opulent headquarters on Wall Street with the other masters of the universe. A derelict lounged in the doorway.
I gave him a dollar. So did Julia.
He was appreciative.
“Thank you for contributing to my delinquency,” he said politely, tipping his fedora in gallant fashion.
Chivalrous, he moved over enough to let us pass.”
7 Ways to rescue a stalled draft.
- 1. Saggy middle? Ooooh! A secret room. Or haunted library. Maybe a friendly (?) kitchen gnome.
- 2. Unfocused? How about a move from a spacious house in gated suburb to a cramped apartment in down-at-the-heels neighborhood? Or vice versa?
- 3. Need a little heat and ooomph? Dressing rooms (or boudoirs if you’re writing hist-fic) can be VERY sexy, right? Ditto kitchens (be careful of the knives), sheds, air streams parked in the back yard.
- 4. A go-nowhere wannabe thriller? Hey! There’s a torture chamber/safe room hidden behind the living room/garage/playroom?
- 5. Backstory blues? Calling the childhood room! Posters of glamor girls and sports stars, from Farrah Fawcett and Madonna to Tom Brady and Roger Federer, are a reminder of outgrown (or perhaps not outgrown) passions.
- 6. Road trip or family vacay need a jolt? A motel to the rescue! In Robert Bloch’s 1959 horror classic, Psycho, the bathroom — specifically the shower — becomes a scene of carnage.
- 7. Need conflict? They’re living their HEA, but now the kids are grown and out of the house. Should their room be turned into her writing retreat? Or his man cave for watching The Big Game with his buddies? (Conflicts over décor can simmer at a low boil or escalate into….well, you take it from there.)
***
BOOK OF THE WEEK
HUSBANDS AND LOVERS (Park Avenue Series, Book #2)—The Married Woman—Once a shy wallflower, Carlys Webber marries multimillionaire Kirk Arnold. When Kirk changes from a loving husband to an angry stranger, will Carlys risk her precious marriage for a few moments of stolen passion with the irresistibly handsome and sensuous architect, George Kouras?
The Single Woman—Fashion world superstar, Jade Mullen survives deception and divorce. She vows never to be betrayed again but what will she do when her devoted lover, architect George Kouras, asks her the one question she doesn’t want to answer?
The Husband—Kirk Arnold struggles to forget the dark secrets of his tormented past. He achieves one dazzling success after another but will he succumb to the tragedy that destroyed his family and will Carlys pay the price?
The Lover—George Kouras rises from humble beginnings to the top of his profession. He and Jade fall madly in love and think they have discovered a new way to live happily ever after, but what will she do when she finds out about George and Carlys?
Set in the glittering world of fashion and in high-powered executive suites, in run-down houses, ethnic neighborhoods and sedate suburbs, Husbands and Lovers is about men and women losing—and finding themselves—in the gritty 1970s and glitzy 1980s. “Steamy and fast-paced, you will be spellbound.”–Cosmopolitan
Available from All the Amazons Nook Kobo Google Play
I probably don’t do enough with homes, although I did have fun with my last book describing a desert town built out of discarded parts and garbage.
Wonderful examples, Ruth! I tend to under-describe settings in the interest of keeping the action moving forward. When reading, I skip over lengthy descriptions of drapes, wallpaper, and furniture…unless there’s a body sprawled on the Louis XIV settee.
But you make the excellent point that places can serve to reinforce the story mood. If handled right, they don’t slow the pace but give the story more depth and texture.
Thanks, as always, for great ideas and suggestions!
I loved all the examples! As for me, I have to keep notes and sketches for the houses, just as I do for characters. Without them I can forget it’s a two story house or the street name or…
Lola—Thanks for the compliments. You’re so right about keeping notes/sketches. Readers notice oopsies like the ones you’re referring to — and you will hear from them!
Have you ever kept a style sheet for keeping track of all those details?
https://annerallen.com/2021/05/style-sheet-style-guide-writing-style/
Just in time. There’s a scene in my WIP where a character returns to the home he was (badly) raised in. Detailing the house should add texture to the character as well. Thanks!
Kay—So glad my timing landed at just the right time. 🙂
Hilary Mantel made an astute observation about houses that might be helpful to keep in mind as you add emotion and texture to your scene.
“All houses are haunted. The wraiths and phantoms creep under your carpets and between the warp and weft of fabric, they lurk in wardrobes and lie flat under drawer-liners.”
My original reply to this appears further down the page. You’ve given me some great ideas today, Ruth. Thank you.
Like Debbie (above), I tend to under-describe as well. I love your examples. Thank you.
Patricia—Thank *you*! 🙂
I hope the examples will help you find just the *right* amount of description. Under-describe and your readers feel stranded or over-describe and bore them. Who said being a writer is easy? Not me. Not ever.
Alex—Ooooh! I *love* the town built out of discarded parts & garbage. A bit Mad Max? Sounds like you’ve created a vivid space for your characters — and your readers. Fun for the writer means fun for the reader!
A bit stalled in my current hot mess of a manuscript (seriously, working title that I’m using in my blog posts is Hot Mess), as I’m trying to get my characters out of a majorly destroyed house that the a good chunk of part one of the story took place in.
In general though, a house of some type always seems to come into play in the stories that I write. I find them to be an ideal setting to use as a starting point for most of my stories. But in this case, I’m struggling just a tad to find a way to use the house setting one last time.
G.B.— Oh, yeah! Hot Mess. Sorry to hear that but we’ve all been there and eventually figured out an escape route. Not fun but eventually rewarding. She says — just this morning having (finally!) figured a way out of my own HM.
TV news seems filled with wrecked houses due to hurricanes/floods/tornadoes/fire. Unfortunately. However, possible fodder for your descriptions and your characters’ dilemma?
Debbie—I’m with you on skipping stuff about curtains and wallpaper. Yawn. Lengthy descriptions are a definite no-no.We are not in the business of boring our readers!
What we need are a few on-target references cuz we’re not writing copy for interior design magazines. At least I hope not!
OTOH, a body on a Louis XIV settee, blood soaking into the pricey brocade-covered cushions and dribbling onto the polished parquet floor, is a real attention-grabber!
This is great fodder for my story. The house the character returns to is an old dilapidated shack that was abandoned years ago.
Kat—sounds like you’re poised to write an absolutely great scene!
I remember realizing that setting could act as a character after reading William Sleator’s House of Stairs*, many moons ago. Thanks again for a fine post.
CS—Thank *you.* As always, much appreciated. 🙂
Yes, yes, yes! It’s a blast to kick your MC into a new setting. I just stuck my street-smart, rough-around-the-edges heroine in a five-star hotel surrounded by guests whose outfits cost more than her entire house. With no idea how to act in an upscale setting, some hilarious scenes stemmed from her stay.
Sue—Sounds perfect! Plus I *love* people who tell me I’m right! 😉
My current room obsession/location in my Regency Romance is a 19th Century glasshouse aka greenhouse. My romantic couple have met and dislike each other. He now required to spend many hours of every day with her in the glasshouse that has been his private Garden of Eden. I’ve become so preoccupied with describing the room and the plants, that I’ve stalled myself. I keep reworking description of the room rather than dealing with their gradually changing attitudes towards each other. Caution: Room can be “rabbit hole>”