One of the great forces of the human experience is the connection people have to place. Whether a person is brought up in Kansas, Alaska, or the deep South, the places we call home embrace our sensibilities. In any good story or novel, the author uses setting and place to establish a story’s mood, reinforce the theme, and make the narrative memorable. Certainly when you think of “place” as a powerful tool in your writing, you might think of Scott Russell Sanders’ book of essays, Writing From the Center, essays that deal with questions of landscape and values. Whether it’s Eudora Welty’s South, John Steinbeck’s California, or Ludwig Bemelmans’ Madeline in Paris where “an old house with vines” becomes a memorable image, the use of “place” figures as an intrinsic part of the story.
Think of the movie “Snow Falling on Cedars” or E. Annie Proulx’s novel Shipping News. Both are good examples where smells, sounds and descriptions make the story vivid and memorable. A good and balanced use of “place” in a book adds intrigue and drama to the action.
Because of my strong sense of place, I am constantly aware that I must not allow it to overshadow the plot, characters, or conflict in my writing. In a brochure about historic New Paltz, N.Y., a writer states, “Nothing compares with the experience of a historic or sacred landscape protected, a favorite house restored, or a neglected neighborhood revived.” I completely agree.
Although it has been over thirty years, I still think in terms of north, south, east, and west according to how the landscape looked when I lived in S.C. To the north were cotton fields. To the south were pastures and cattle. When I sat in the swing (hung from a sturdy limb of the pecan tree in our front yard), the west was to my left beyond a row of dark pine trees. East led down the lane. Somehow those directions were recorded or stamped in my bones. Today, I still orient myself by turning around and facing a certain direction in order to "feel" which way is east or south. I wonder if other people have that same feeling. I'm not sure how younger people relate to directions and/or place now that they depend on GPS equipment.
I grew up on the land, felt attached to the land, and that land gave me an inner sense about direction and parameters. My house faces south, but when I look out my front door, I don’t "feel” I’m facing south but east. It’s something in my bones. Am I crazy? Conflicted? Lost?
Think of the movie “Snow Falling on Cedars” or E. Annie Proulx’s novel Shipping News. Both are good examples where smells, sounds and descriptions make the story vivid and memorable. A good and balanced use of “place” in a book adds intrigue and drama to the action.
Because of my strong sense of place, I am constantly aware that I must not allow it to overshadow the plot, characters, or conflict in my writing. In a brochure about historic New Paltz, N.Y., a writer states, “Nothing compares with the experience of a historic or sacred landscape protected, a favorite house restored, or a neglected neighborhood revived.” I completely agree.
Although it has been over thirty years, I still think in terms of north, south, east, and west according to how the landscape looked when I lived in S.C. To the north were cotton fields. To the south were pastures and cattle. When I sat in the swing (hung from a sturdy limb of the pecan tree in our front yard), the west was to my left beyond a row of dark pine trees. East led down the lane. Somehow those directions were recorded or stamped in my bones. Today, I still orient myself by turning around and facing a certain direction in order to "feel" which way is east or south. I wonder if other people have that same feeling. I'm not sure how younger people relate to directions and/or place now that they depend on GPS equipment.
I grew up on the land, felt attached to the land, and that land gave me an inner sense about direction and parameters. My house faces south, but when I look out my front door, I don’t "feel” I’m facing south but east. It’s something in my bones. Am I crazy? Conflicted? Lost?
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