“That’s
a good place to dump a body,” I said, forehead pressed against the passenger
window of my sister’s pickup. A tangle of oaks, briars and wild
grapevines followed a meandering creek in a thick greenbelt along the quiet
road north of Dallas.
My
sister, who'd had to endure growing up with me, said something about my creepy
outlook on the world, then admitted that the police had recently caught a
couple of teenage boys as they walked out of that overgrowth—from dumping the
body of another youth they’d choked to death.
My formative years in law enforcement were spent in the South so I tend to
think of that area in fairly violent and bloody terms. Apologies to all my
relatives and friends who still live there. I have plenty of happy memories
too. But I’ve found too many bodies in the woods. Some were in shallow graves
or tarps or bed sheets or old carpet. Some were in nothing at all. There’s
something about the oppressive humidity, the sweet smell of decaying earth, and
the mottled light through the branches that
just screams, “There’s a dead body in here!”
Man-trackers know people tend to follow natural lines of drift, moving
generally over the same path as those who have gone before them. Oddly, it's not unheard of for one
crime scene to overlap with another. I heard someone say
recently that if all the bodies buried in the desert outside San Bernardino
stood up, the place would look like a forest.
Just like dense woods can evoke a sense of foreboding, other places dredge up
different feelings and thoughts. If done correctly, setting is not just a
backdrop in which characters move around. It’s a character in its own right.
I’m writing this at 30,000 feet, between DC and Los Angeles. Washington, with
its Heroic statues, less than heroic politicians, granite monuments, spies,
spies in training, and herds of unruly youth on summer trips, provides a
perfect backdrop for intrigue—the same way a sunset over a wide West Texas
street says gunfight.
I often set scenes in areas where I’ve worked, including DC. In an
early Jericho Quinn novel, I wrote a key chase scene set in and around
Arlington, Virginia, basing it on my memories and Google Earth. I ended up back
there for several weeks on assignment while working on that same book—and
realized that, though I had the geography correct, I’d neglected to mention the
thrumming buzz of cicadas that filled the trees at that time of year. It was a
small detail, but a word or two about these insects certainly fleshed out the
setting.
My
first Western was set in Western Montana in 1910. I had about a third of it
written before I had sense enough to research what was going on in that part of
the country in that particular year. Turns out they had a humongous forest
fire—belching out enough smoke that streetlights on the East Coast had to be
lit during the day. That fire became a major character in a story that would
have fizzled without it.
Over
the last few days I’ve walked through chases and fight scenes in Manhattan’s
Chinatown and the warren of tunnels that make up the DC Metro system—both
places that, at least in my mind, make for great settings/characters. It’s a
delicate balance between being too sparse or too wordy in your descriptions.
There’s
an old story among lawdogs about a Texas Ranger who, after a gunfight with a
fugitive, sent a telegram with the following report to his superiors.
“Ranger
attempted to arrest outlaw, outlaw drew weapon, Ranger shot outlaw, outlaw
expired.”
Of
course the Ranger’s Captain sent word that he needed a more detailed report.
The next day he received the following amended report:
“Ranger
attempted to arrest outlaw, outlaw drew weapon, Ranger shot outlaw, outlaw
expired. Weather: cloudy.”
Each
place has its own unique details. Ambient sound—the slap of a halyard against a
sailboat’s mast, the creak of saddle leather, or the buzzing of blowflies;
smell—the odor of fish and desperation in the teeming backstreets of Chinatown;
and weather—oppressive heat that pushes a person to strip to the skin or bitter
cold that makes holding a firearm painful if not impossible. They can all add
interesting layers to setting and place.
I
admit that I enjoy writing descriptions—probably a little more than I should. I
slash a good many of them on my own, then again, when my wife reads the
manuscript…and again when my editor gets his/her hands on it. We overnight
tonight in LA. Tomorrow we head to Japan for a few weeks, visiting our
grandchildren and scouting other locations for fights, foot pursuits and new settings where Jericho and friends can have their adventures. A place like
that overwhelms my senses, leaving me feeling like Scrooge McDuck in his
counting house, except, instead of money, I roll around in a great pile of
words and ideas.
Our flight arrives in LA in
the early afternoon. I really should go for a run when we get to the hotel.
Google Earth shows a nice greenbelt just a couple of blocks away—but I’ll stick
to the treadmill. I’m just not in the mood for what I might find out there in
the leaves.
Marc Cameron is a retired Chief
Deputy US Marshal and 29-year law enforcement veteran. His short stories have
appeared in BOYS’ LIFE Magazine and the Saturday Evening Post. He's published
eleven novels, six of them Westerns.
TIME OF ATTACK fourth in his
USA Today Bestselling Jericho Quinn Thriller series, is the newest release from
Kensington February of 2014. DAY ZERO will hit the shelves February 2015.
Marc lives in Alaska with his
beautiful bride and BMW motorcycle.
Visit him at:
www.marccameronbooks.com
http://www.facebook.com/MarcCameronAuthor
A fine piece, Marc. I agree that taking in the sights of this great planet (and smells, and tastes and sounds) is the writer's version of stumbling into an open bank vault.
ReplyDeleteSee ya here, Marc.
ReplyDeleteI have always thought the story becomes real when I 'see' the area. When I think about it, the setting has always been a part of what draws me to a story, along with the time.
ReplyDeleteHave a safe and profitable trip. Doris
Excellent remarks on setting the scene and doing the research in order to know what actually happened during an earlier time at a particular place.
ReplyDeleteMy husband is not a reader, but I read to him on long trips while he is driving. Your Jericho Quinn series sounds like something he would enjoy. I’ll have to get a copy and have it on hand for our next venture.
Hi Marc,
ReplyDeleteDescriptions are so touchy, aren't they? We don't want "too much" that they take over the story, but we need the right amount to make the story be all it can be for the reader, so it doesn't feel "cardboardy".
I always enjoy your posts and this was no exception. Description of places is hard for me. I have to work to get it just right.
Cheryl
You have many of the same feelings I do Marc in regards to setting, sight, taste, sounds, smell. I like to work in the weather with the climate playing a major role in my stories.
DeleteYou and I feel much the same about setting development. I love to work in the sights, smells, sounds, and feel of an area. I think the climate is important and make the weather a major factor in my stories. Good write up Marc.
ReplyDeleteSorry I haven't responded to comments. I had a little trouble getting the internet to work with my computer here in Japan.
ReplyDeleteThanks for the comments.
ReplyDeleteMarc