Writing Place as Character Without Turning It Into a Travelogue

Every author has heard the advice, “Make your setting a character.” But careful, that advice can lead to literary flexing of flowery prose that most readers will skim. Like any character in a story, place needs to exist for a reason.

Does the reader need to know what the skyline looks like if it has no bearing on what the character is doing, thinking, or feeling? Probably not. They’re more likely interested in what will happen next, so let the setting help reveal important pieces of the story rather than merely describing where it takes place—that’s just window dressing.

When a place is experienced by the reader, it becomes part of the story itself, giving life to every scene. My debut novel in The Secrets Trilogy, Six Weeks of Love & Larceny, takes place in Philly—a city with a very distinct personality of its own (the Flyers’ mascot is named ‘Gritty’ for heaven’s sake), so when a character is ordering cheesesteaks ‘whiz wit and a few witout’ at Pat’s on game day, there’s no need to further describe the backdrop—the reader can feel it. It’s in the vibe, the sports rituals, the language, the culture.

While description helps an audience picture where events happen, a feeling can be captured through simple dialogue and routine, making a place feel lived-in not just decorative. Instead of asking yourself, ‘How can I describe this place,’ ask, ‘How does this place affect what my characters are doing, saying, or feeling?’ Truly effective settings become an active part of the narrative inviting readers to experience the story rather than just observing it.

Authenticity and credibility can also be achieved with a compelling image of place. But too often as writers we’re tempted to front-load the image through paragraphs of vivid description we believe will immerse the reader, when in reality, that can often break the natural rhythm of the story.

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When a character in Six Weeks describes her morning routine as “jogging through the city of Philadelphia ‘Rocky Balboa style’” an immediate image is conjured of a disciplined underdog fighting to make it against all odds. The reader imagines frigid pre-dawn mornings moving through city neighborhoods, each with their own personality—some industrial, some working class, others pre-opening marketplaces or the scenic Schuylkill River trail that leads to the iconic scene everyone remembers at the Art Museum steps. Nuf said, we get it.

But there is caution in this advice too… well-known landmarks, for instance, can be a trap. Sure, they do the work for you if people automatically picture the scene in their minds, but why is your character there? Why is it important? Is it where the love story begins, where the heroine receives devastating news or makes a critical choice? If nothing significant happens, the landmark simply becomes a postcard—one the reader recognizes but doesn’t experience in a meaningful way.

Settings should provide more than visual detail; they should create atmosphere and emotional depth that affect the characters’ behavior. When this happens, the world you create becomes believable because the reader can picture themselves in it.

On a broader level, if you are writing a series, setting becomes exponentially important. You can’t keep redescribing a place over and over again, it has to carry forward through the series with function and accumulated meaning so recurring places land emotionally without unnecessary description.

In Book Two of The Secrets Trilogy, Twelve Weeks of Love & Loss, an early scene takes place in the restaurant where the two main characters had their first date. It was a calculated choice on both my part and that of the character. We’re both banking on the emotional value it holds for everyone by Book Two. If you create place, atmosphere, and environment effectively initially, returning readers feel at home with recurring locations and the impact is built in.

Ultimately, the most memorable stories treat place as a living presence rather than a painted backdrop. Instead of pausing the story to describe scenery, allow the setting to interact with your characters in a way that will take the reader from imagining where events occur to feeling as though they are there, inside the story experiencing it alongside the characters.

My advice… try writing place as a character without turning your piece into a travel brochure and next time you’re in Philly be sure to use the universally recognized ‘Go Birds’ as a greeting, goodbye or acknowledgement of any kind and you’ll fit right in. (See what I did there—wink, wink).