This post is based on a talk given at Elroy Public Library in April, 2019.
Settings
One important
aspect of creating story besides giving you interesting characters with an
intriguing problem is setting them in a place readers can identify with. In
cozy mysteries which are generally set in small communities we authors want you
to feel at home and fall in love with the neighborhoods and the people.
Authors will
set stories in a known place or a hybridized version of the city, or like me, make
up a city from scratch. I tend to base my made-up cities near others that are
well known so my readers have an idea of where they are, and can identify
familiar landmarks. But I want to avoid problems of businesses changing hands
or moving, or buildings being torn down, or the old school being made into
apartments, or using characters who would never fit into the setting. I read a
mystery last year that was set in Hillsboro—just down the road—with very few
elements that were true. The author even set it at the foot of Wildcat Mountain
and gave us a tough, sexy female police chief. That does not remotely describe Hillsboro.
So, my first
step in creating a town is to make sure there’s nothing with the same name that
I want to use in the area. I go through atlases and online directories and
maps. I knew the Fancy Cat series was going to be set in Illinois, and after
searching for a place to build, settled on west central. I may have to play
around with locations or names to make it work. There is no Apple Grove on the
official Illinois state maps, so I settle on the name. I knew I wanted Apple
Grove to be near a river and close to major highways. Eventually, the river and
Hannibal Missouri, and being within a couple hours’ drive to Chicago are all
important.
Research and
fact-finding are important to me. So, although I am making up my community, the
lifestyle still has to ring true. Each county and municipality in every state
has its own codes and quirks. I don’t live in Illinois, although our younger
son and his wife do, so I have a source of first-person knowledge to back up
what I research. I chose a small city in the area, Beardstown, and borrowed heavily
from its great website.
My books all
tend to have large casts. I have trouble identifying with characters who tend
to show up midway through life out of the blue and meet somebody, have a story,
and then be done, so I give my characters family and friends to interact with.
These side characters will often be part of future stories, or become the
center of the next mystery. I have placed a city website for my fictional AppleGrove on my own website, which contains elements that I have created or
recreated from the Chamber of Commerce and municipal resources. You’ll also
find a list of characters and their roles there, as opposed to inside the
books.
I found
photographs from free sites on the internet to show on my Apple Grove city page. I use a
conglomeration because I want readers to be able to fill in the blanks
themselves of details of buildings. I rarely put people in my covers or
websites for the same reason.
Some familiar
things readers will find in many of my stories are set up to provide a place
for my characters to meet others, gather information, do regular business, buy
food. So we’ll have a diner or restaurant, a gas station, a place to get
supplies and food, usually a library and a often, church. Since my work fits
into either inspirational or clean and wholesome reading categories, so faith
elements are important. Using each of our five senses helps to bind you to a
place. Sometimes I will tell you what’s cooking at Tiny’s Buffet; other times,
all I need to do is say “diner” and each reader will fill in the blanks with
your own memories of smell, and taste, sight, hearing the customers and
background noise, and the touch of a fork or a hot cup of coffee.
Venturing to a
new Style—Science Fiction
For my story
Parhelion, part of which is set around Madison, Sauk City, and Cottage Grove, I
just stole the neighborhood and house my oldest brother and sister-n-law bought
on Madison’s west side a few years ago. In the first book of the series, Forces
of Nature, the main characters bought a house there when they got married, and
the poor neighborhood was never the same. This is not their house, by the way. One
of my writer friends lives in Cottage Grove, so she gave me a few hints of what
it’s like, and we drive through Sauk City quite a bit, though I did take
liberties with a new housing complex built there along the river. One of the
tricks of the trade is not to give too specific of details.
In Parhelion, however,
much of the story moved from Madison to an underground, figuratively and
literally, complex in Colorado. The compound is a community carved from
mountain caverns. No matter where or when a book is set, we readers still need
something to ground us. What are things people need no matter where they are?
My underground
community has individual apartments set in clusters, classrooms, parks that
have living plants and trees and playground equipment, a sound system, and a
video system that shows the day and night skies, even rain. There’s a
cafeteria, a chapel, meeting rooms, and offices, as well as laboratories, farm,
and a medical clinic. People in the community are experimenting with
potentially adapting to life in a new place. They don’t know what to expect
about the environment, so they are trying to be redundant, and adaptable
without feeling as though they are raising the next generation to be cave
people.
It’s not easy
to jump into a book, either writing or reading. An author’s goal is to provide
a setting that will enrich the story, whether it begins with a crime scene or a
scary place someone wants to escape or a place of love and laughter. But most
of all we want you to be at home, enjoy your reading experience, and to come
back.
There it
was—Ivanna’s address, the right hand of a two-story dark-sided and
narrow-windowed building. I supposed it was modern classic, but I frowned at
its bleakness. The tree in the front yard was spindly, with its “I’m new and
insured the first year” store tag fluttering in the breeze. I knocked and rang
the bell before depositing the box on the rubber welcome mat.
Weatherman Bob
at WWAG reported possible showers in the early morning hours, so I hesitated to
leave it exposed. As I reached to test the knob, I noticed the interior door
was ajar. Maybe I should push it open and shove the box inside. I didn’t even
need to set foot in the entry.
With a peek up
and down the street, deserted for the dinner hour, I gingerly eased the glass
storm door toward me, then tentatively pushed the black-painted interior door
inward. Not even a squeak added to the spooky tension. I grinned. I’d been
reading way too many mysteries and detective dramas lately. “Hello! Just
dropping this off!” I called as I slid the box forward, though I was certain no
one was home.
Except the
outstretched fingers on the floor I happened to see appeared too real to spring
from an overactive imagination.
I swallowed and
pulled back, still on my knees on Ivanna’s stoop. If it was a crime scene, I
shouldn’t go in. My heart raced and the sweat on my brow would make my hair
frizzier.
But what if she
was hurt or sick?
What if an
assailant was lurking?
What if I was
lying there and someone saw me on the floor?
What if it
wasn’t her?
Apple Grove’s
semi-warm and fuzzy almost-detective Officer Ripple could reprimand me later. I
pushed the door wider—it was already open, not locked, so I couldn’t be accused
of breaking and entering, I hoped—and crawled one knee inside. “Hi! Just making
a delivery!”
My caution blew
back in my face. I’d never seen Ivanna from the radio show, but I recognized
her as a former waitress at Tiny’s. She was mostly on her stomach with her legs
slightly bent, splayed across her Italian green and gold marble-tiled foyer,
red hair partially covering the white skin of her face. Under her pale gold
silk blouse her abundant cleavage was kind of pushed up toward her throat and
her cheek rested on the floor. I was so glad her eyes were closed. That meant
she could be…
“Um, Ivanna?
Miss Pressman? Are you all right?” I figured I’d better ask before I checked
for a pulse. I didn’t see any blood. As I leaned across her outstretched arm to
see if I could put a finger on her neck without touching anything else, I
planted my left hand near hers. My skin prickled and I pulled back.
A piece of
candy, partially unwrapped, lay near her wrist. I reached for it but stopped
before my fingers left prints. Ripple’s stern cop voice sounded in my mind: “You
didn’t touch anything, did you?”
I refocused on
the very still body. Well, technically I didn’t know if it was—oh, just check
for a pulse, Ivy, so you have something to tell the police. “Ivanna? I’m just
going to…put my finger here…under your ear…”
There was
plenty of time for her to open her eyes or start breathing before I made
contact. But, no. Just as I figured. Her icy cold skin did not thrum with any
beat of life. WWAG would have to find a new morning show host.
I sat back and
fumbled for my phone. While I dialed 911 and waited for the response, I studied
Ivanna. Her mouth seemed a little pinched, even in death. A slash of crimson
red lipstick and matching polish on her long nails should have clashed with
that shade of brassy hair, yet some blondish highlights kept the color from
being gauche. The engagement ring on her outstretched hand had a positively
vulgar two-carat diamond in an ornate, swirly gold setting, posed as if it was
on display.
“What is your
emergency?” the voice on my phone asked.
I explained
with the fewest words possible and was directed to remain on the scene until
officers arrived.
“Sure, I will,”
I said and hung up. The adrenalin rush wore off. I’d be late to meet Adam and
probably wouldn’t get to see him at all today. I held up my phone again, about
to speed dial him, when I was distracted by the piece of candy on the floor.
The wrapper
bore the unmistakable winged design of Featherlight Confectionaries—the same
kind my ex-fiancé, Stanley Brewer, sold since he’d switched companies.
I stopped in
mid-reach once again. I didn’t recognize this style of chocolate cube. This had
a slightly bumpy texture, as if stuffed with delicacies. I was well acquainted
with them all since we sold that brand at Mea Cuppa, and this one didn’t
belong.
Christian author LoRee Peery wrote
fiction for many years before her first novella was published in 2010. She
smiles as she remembers that initial contract arrived on her birthday. She
thrills at the writing process when ideas, words, or character voices resonate
in her mind. Jotting notes in the middle of the night or trailing toothpaste
across the floor on her way to pen and paper, get her pulse pumping. She often
notices character quirks and conversation while she’s out and about, and is
invigorated when she spends time outside.
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