I have always been a visual writer. When formulating a scene, I have to envision each moment in exacting detail. As such, a good deal of my editing process involves scaling back, sharpening key images and finding short cuts to capture the feel of a moment with fewer words. Even so, I strive not to strip away all of my cinematic leanings. For me the set pieces of a scene are often as vital as crafting dialog, advancing plot points, or even developing character. For this reason, I am drawn to novelists who paint engaging worlds, those with a talent for evoking not only a sweeping backdrop for their stories but also details to bring their imagined settings to life. I revel in imagining the furnishings of an imposing home at the center of a family drama, or visualizing the mountain forest above a protagonist’s homestead, or learning of the businesses that line the main street of a fictional community. Unsurprisingly, given my interest in such matters, I am similarly drawn to stories on film which do the same.
My latest obsession in the latter realm is the surprise Netflix hit The Queen’s Gambit, which has taken the world by storm. In a production environment increasingly reliant on overly complex, multi-dimensional storylines, producer Allan Scott and writer / director Scott Frank have released a straight-forward narrative, trusting that a single compelling through-line of a tale is all that is needed to hold the attention of a modern audience.
They were right! Beth Harmon, the young chess prodigy protagonist, captivates from the start. Her meteoric rise to the top echelon of the chess world while struggling with the demons of a traumatic childhood provides more than enough dramatic tension to propel the seven-episode arc to a thoroughly satisfying conclusion. But while many ingredients contribute to the show’s success, including top-notch acting from a talented cast, what stands out for me is the clear devotion given to ensure that each scene was stage-crafted to perfection, with every component – from lighting to color tone to camera movement – designed to reinforce the mood of the moment and underscore the emotional forces at work.
You may ask: “What does any of this have to do with writing?” After all, most writers have no training in set design or cinematography; and a novel is literally a black-and-white medium. There is no musical score, nor a smidgen of live action to be found.
I would argue that writers should absolutely evaluate their stories from a cinematic perspective. For while motion pictures are clearly a different format, the best written works are undeniably visual in nature. Indeed, the magic of writing is the intricate dance by which an author provides just enough imagery to allow a reader to flesh out an entire world, and then to place themselves in the midst of the described action. It is this alchemy which triggers an emotional response, thereby expanding the consciousness of the reader.
Thus, the question in my opinion is not whether a writer should strive to inject more stagecraft into their scenes, but how to do so. How does one elevate visual imagery within scenes in a meaningful way? And what techniques can one employ to give a story a more cinematic feel? Below are a few ideas for doing so.
Use the Entire Stage
Every writer, be they plotters or pantsers, comes to their story (or perhaps it comes to them) with images in mind. Perhaps the characters of one tale inhabit 1820s London. Maybe those of a second are guests at a decaying seaside hotel in a now withering boomtown. And in yet another, perhaps a crew has just landed on an alien planet experiencing ferocious volcanic activity. It is the very nature of writing that as one strings together the initial draft, details emerge. Perhaps the aging hotel of the second example has a back staircase, now sagging on one side, which leads to a neglected music parlor with a dusty piano shoved into the corner. Maybe the protagonist in the London tale is a penniless runaway who sleeps beneath the docks and lies about his age to gain employment as a shipbuilder.
Images that emerge in a first draft, descriptions that might at first blush simply fill the page to get from plot point A to B, become set pieces to move about and insert, or alter, to advance your story and to engage your reader. Lean into those that resonate and employ them to capture the mood of key scenes. Perhaps one of the hotel guests is an abused wife who flees to the abandoned musical room after a particularly brutal encounter. And there, crouched beneath the piano, she weeps while recalling a tune her mother used to play for her as a child, long before the hell her life has become now. Maybe the runaway in London makes a friend and, fessing up to his homelessness, leads him to the cluster of pylons where he beds down. And as they proceed to drink the night away on cheap ale, the lad realizes that the music from the pub above sounds sweeter than it has since his arrival.
The point is both of these examples have potential to be highly visual scenes. Every story draft is bubbling with similar possibilities. Even a tale of a bedridden widow confined to one room has layers waiting to be explored – a scrapbook with a lifetime of images laying on the bedside table, the hillside monastery visible from the tiny window and the way the light strikes the spire just before sunset. In crafting and editing your story, consider how to use all your set pieces to full advantage. Consider the most appropriate setting in your imagined world for a climactic confrontation, or a tearful reunion. Mix things up to keep things interesting, for you and for your reader.
Details, Details
Some months ago, at the start of the pandemic, I was on the receiving end of a persistent stream of MasterClass advertisements in my social media feeds. One of them was a short video of Natalie Portman speaking about acting techniques, which I dutifully watched (it was, after all, Natalie Portman). She appeared on a stage set as the apartment of a fictional boyfriend her character suspects is cheating. Wandering about, she spoke of getting into the character’s head by improvising with props found on the set. As I recall, she used one of his golf clubs to crack the screen of his television and set fire to a pile of his dirty laundry.
In other words, she focused on the objects laid out before her. Similarly, we have the opportunity to do the same with elements from our stories. Details can center the mood of a scene. Perhaps your character has a prized possession, an heirloom ring inherited from a favorite aunt, for example, that at a critical juncture can serve to symbolize or contrast with some aspect of their own marriage.
Details can also cement a place and time. When writing my first novel, I sprinkled tidbits from my research of WWI France into the narrative for authenticity. But the most effective images derived from that research weren’t expected ones, such as views from the Eiffel Tower in 1918. Instead, they were lesser known details that spoke to the immensity of the war, such as the fact that prominent museums had to be converted into hospitals to care for the ever-rising number of maimed soldiers from the ceaseless fighting. That knowledge provided not only a good visual for the reader, but also advanced the story by leaving an impression on my protagonist as well.
Bottom line – Take the time to evaluate artifacts from your drafts and consider how they might be utilized to add layers of meaning or emotion to your story.
Build Grand Sets (and use them)
While I don’t want to veer too far into world-building here (saving that topic for another time), it’s important to note that one should aim high when creating the stage for story action. The Queen’s Gambit excelled at this aspect of visual storytelling. From the orphanage where protagonist Beth Harmon is sent as a child, to her adoptive suburban home, to the locale of each stateside and international chess tournament, every setting in the series is memorable. In each, the colors and the shapes (and the shadows) establish a mood. And while again, clearly, writing has no direct equivalent visual capability, lessons can be learned from a masterfully realized film production.
The creative team behind The Queen’s Gambit knew they had to keep each setting fresh, particularly when it came to the chess tournament sequences, which if handled poorly would quickly have felt redundant and tedious. For that reason, they gave each location a distinctive edge. The fictional mid-60s Las Vegas hotel offers a mash-up of glitz and glamour, complete with a sweeping spiral stair curving around an oversized dice sculpture in the grand lobby. The Mexico City set is filled with brightly lit geometric patterns, while the Moscow setting is more linear, with muted colors and expansive, tastefully lit rooms.
In a similar vein, writers should aim to construct memorable settings for their readers. Give the homes of your characters a sense of personality. Highlight unique aspects of real-life settings while adding intriguing layers to fictional ones. And most importantly, step back on occasion and ask yourself, “If this were a movie, would there be a more compelling location for the next scene?”
In many cases, you may not find a reason to deviate from your initial instincts. But by posing the question, you may gain a new perspective and on occasion find a new angle from which to propel your story.
Those are my observations, and ideas that have worked for me. What are your thoughts? Do you consider yourself a visual storyteller? If so, what techniques do you employ to give your writings a cinematic feel? Have any films influenced your writing style? If so, which ones and what lessons did you learn? Please share. I look forward to hearing from you.
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About John J Kelley
John J Kelley crafts tales of individuals at a crossroads, exploring themes of growth, reconciliation and community. His debut novel, The Fallen Snow, about a young soldier’s homecoming at the close of WWI, received a Publishers Weekly starred review and earned an Honorable Mention nod at the 2012 Foreword Reviews Book-of-the-Year Awards. Born and raised in the Florida panhandle, John graduated from Virginia Tech and for a time served as a military officer. Today he lives with his partner in Washington, DC.
John, you have startled me with the realization that although I am a very visual thinker, my writing is skimpy on visual effect. How odd is that? My narrative NF WIP seriously needs visual description everywhere, not the least because it takes place in surroundings that will be unfamiliar to most readers. Off to revisions I am, thanks to you.
Good morning, Anna! I have no doubt you’ve done just fine. But if something here helps or if scouring the narrative with an eye toward enhancing the visual imagery enhances your WIP, that would be delightful.
I have no idea how applicable it might be to your work, but whenever anyone mentions narrative NF or pure NF incorporating novelistic techniques, two examples immediately spring to mind. The first is nearly any work of author Erik Larson, an Edgar Award recipient for his work entitled The Devil in the White City. The second is Susan Freinkel’s non-fiction book American Chestnut: The Life, Death and Rebirth of a Perfect Tree.
I highly recommend the second. Freinkel has a masterful writing style, allowing her to impart a tremendous amount of historical data with the rhythms of a poet. American Chestnut contains some truly lyrical passages. And, yes, her writing is highly visual, allowing readers to imagine Appalachian forests dominated by a canopy of chestnuts that vanished decades ago.
Write on, Anna! Thank you for sharing your thoughts.
Thank you, John, for this. I know I am definitely NOT naturally keen in visual observation, so I have to push myself there, especially for indoor settings. It seems easier to bring in a variety of reflective and contrasting moods by getting characters outdoors, where visual change is so naturally constant. And out there, I like the reminders from the nineteenth-century Scotsman storyteller George MacDonald to get beyond an overly science-colored perspective. MacDonald says that real truth of things in nature is their appearance, in how nature “appeals to the heart and the imagination,” as a child would perceive such things. “It is through their show, not through their analysis, that we enter into their deepest truths. What they say to the childlike soul is the truest thing…” Perhaps that kind of childlike honest perception of the “show” of things is also a helpful way to approach any indoor setting, for making the most of what’s there in service to the story. Anyway, your good observations and guidelines have set my mind a-thinkin’. Thanks, John!
I love the musings of George MacDonald. How wise! Plus it brings to mind a snippet from my own youth. One morning when I was about five, I escaped my home and four older siblings undetected and explored our yard and half the block of our neighbors with a researcher’s vigor, pulling grasses from around the bases of trees to see the insects and the like hidden within (It was Florida so there were plenty to discover). I have no idea what possessed me, but it left an indelible impression and makes me smile even now. It’s kind of cute imagining John the kindergarten scientist exploring his tiny world ;).
I still love my woodland hikes. Perhaps for that reason outdoor scenes are easier for me as well, though I have come to enjoy imagining the homes of characters in my writings, even when they’re not prominent to the story. I applaud your idea of applying the habits that work for capturing nature to interior habitats. I will definitely keep it in mind.
Have a great day, Thomas!
Delighted to find two more George MacDonald readers! (I thought my son and I were the only two left in the world….preposterous, yes?)
It’s a secret club, Anna … I’ll send you the link ;)
I appreciate your post today because you kind of walk through the process of taking visual thought and applying it to the writing process, which I have recently realized I need to do, and have been kind of feeling my way through on my current wip.
Much like Anna above, despite being a visual person, I have a hard time with description. Despite seeing my worlds, I get stuck when trying to describe them. I also had some concerns that I would write too much description, which made me try to limit myself, even on the first draft.
I realized that because I’m a fast reader and also very visual, I often scan description for the key points and then fill in the rest on my own. I’m not often wrong in my visualization, but I also had a very diminished well of words to write description from. I started slowing down and actually reading (and paying attention to!) description in the books I’m reading and this has helped me to get the description out of my head and onto paper. Once that happened, I found I wrote huge blocks of description upon the first time in a location or about people, but the words are now there to be rearranged and/or spread throughout the story. As I wrote the descriptions I learned some things about my setting that helped to inform later plot points and the characters, too (like you pointed out in your post.) That was the nicest surprise. I also have begun writing word banks for the locations and people’s features, and drawing maps of rooms. It seems like if I can get that stuff out of my head and onto paper (that I can look at, it has to be on paper, because a computer file is still out of sight, out of mind) the story and plot then come to life.
I need to work more on describing objects and people in a more meaningful way than just description, and I appreciate the suggestions you give because I think they’ll be very helpful as I’m editing. Thank you for sharing, and I’d definitely be up for another post from you about world building! :D
Lara, it turns out there are several prior WU posts exploring world building in some fashion. But the link below is the one from Heather Webb that I was recalling in my prior response. I accidentally posted my early response as a new comment rather than as a reply to yours. Sorry about that – it’s in the comment thread.
https://writerunboxed.com/2018/07/26/build-a-world-hook-a-reader/
As I read your post today, John, I was back in the town where THE FALLEN SNOW is set, and then back on the battlefields that are the climax of your novel. So much about placing our characters in a scene that comes alive, brings credence to their actions and their decisions. I see the world of my MC so clearly and want my readers to walk through that world, journey with her as they read. Wishing you a safe and yet beautiful holiday season.
Thank you, Beth! You have a wonderful (and safe) holiday season as well. Btw, I’ve loved hearing at how your return to Chicago is awakening, or reawakening, your recollections. A change of scenery is always good, as is returning home.
You are clearly well on your way, Lara! Those are excellent suggestions. I am particularly intrigued by your word banks of locations and people’s features (my small confession is I rarely describe characters in detail because, frankly, I’m not all that good at it … it almost always feels forced to me).
I love the fact that you draw rooms as well. For my first novel, I actually identified (and hiked to) a wilderness location for my fictional Virginia town and thereafter posted a topographical map on my storyboard so I would always have the geography in mind. I was positively giddy when a man from the area read the novel and contacted me to ask if his impression of the location matched his suspicion (he was close).
One final thought – You are also on the right track, I feel, in getting your descriptions down, knowing you can and will pull them back as needed. The bits of discovery that come from having done so, and finding the gems to keep, are exciting.
During a writing class some years ago, I met a young woman crafting a dystopian novel set in the mid-Atlantic region. It was fun exchanging ideas with her because from the moment I read her first chapter presentation to the group, I could see similarities in our approaches.
Her initial drafts were overflowing with details – precise direction a character turned his head to see an approaching clan, the exact number of bullets scattered across the backseat of the scout vehicle … things like that. It was reassuring knowing someone else had similar tendencies to mine. One of my favorite teasings on my own editing process is the number of “he/she turned and crossed the room” or “opened the door” phrases I can eliminate without skipping a beat. I probably removed 500 words from my first novel on that exercise alone.
I do know there is a really excellent post on world building somewhere here on Writer Unboxed. If I can find it this afternoon, I’ll come back and post the link here.
Take care, Lara. Wishing you continued success on your WIP.
Excellent essay, full of useful insights, John! Plus, anything to do with TQG, I’m all in! I remarked often during our binge about the pure perfection of the settings. Such great details! Re: the Moscow tournament, I would add that the tasteful lighting made it so much more solemn, and austere. Not to mention that the setting was uber-masculine, which was part of Beth’s conflict, as well. There was almost an atmosphere of threat in its beauty.
My wife is a realtor who primarily deals with second homes, which are mostly sold furnished. But at times they aren’t furnished, or have old, crappy/outdated furnishings, so she keeps a storage unit full of staging furnishings. Not just furniture, but rugs, wall-hangings, lamps, bedding, vases–you name it. She’s really good at making a cottage feel like home, and it has always benefited her. It’s about building an image that home shoppers can insert themselves into. So it’s definitely a less-is-more situation. You have to leave room for them to envision their own personal items easily fitting in. But it can’t be so empty that they don’t have a clue how cozy/sleek/laid-back/etc (depending on the property) it can be.
I never realized how much like writing this process is (and, as the oft-recruited moving-muscle, I’m around the property staging world a LOT, lol). It’s all about selecting the details that provide passage for others into a setting. Thanks for helping me to realize it anew!
Good afternoon, Vaughn!
You and I think a lot alike. I knew my description of the Russian set wasn’t quite right. The word “austere” escaped me at the time, and the word that had come to mind – “sinister” – felt a little too strong (though I agree the mood exuded was lush yet unsettling). One thing I had not considered was the “Uber-masculine” feel you note, which is spot on as well.
I love your analogy to property staging. I was in real estate for nearly a decade here in DC, so I’ve been the one sharing tips with sellers on preparing their homes for market. You have to leave room for the buyer’s imagination, just as you do with readers. It’s a great analogy.
Thanks for your observations, Vaughn. You all have a wonderful holiday season. Stay safe!
Refreshing article. Setting for me is critical. It is the other character. I once read that two people talking together would act and speak differently if they were in a church rather than a tavern. Setting affects the character.
The better the setting is grounded the more alive the character will be. Every body talks about character building, their goals and back story and deep Point of view. Where would that all be without a solid sense of place
World building is essentially character profiling. Why did they build a castle there, what is that noise, how does that crane not fall over?
For me the writing process is the world building (prime pantser) I too cut away the fat later. I must have the carpet on the floor before I can hear the antagonist approach.
Well done thanks for bringing setting out in the open .
Wow! I love the way you express yourself, Sam. It’s a great defense of adopting a pantser perspective. What I’ve found is that I’m a pantser – in fact it’s essential to my initial efforts – until I’m at about 40 – 60%, and then I shift to being a plotter. By that point I have a clear sense of where the characters started and where they’l wind up, and need to construct some bridges to get the story there.
I particularly like this — “I once read that two people talking together would act and speak differently if they were in a church rather than a tavern.” It’s a true statement, in real life and on the page. Our settings determine our behavior in so many ways, some of which we never recognize.
Thanks for adding your thoughts. Here’s to good intuitive storytelling!