nb: this is the Sparknotes version of an essay I wrote for my MA last term.
Why do we love Hogwarts so much?
How can we strive to recreate the devotion readers have felt towards Hogwarts in our own writing?
These are the questions I asked myself last fall. I wanted to demystify the success of Hogwarts as a setting readers all over the world identify as a second home. To begin, I looked at a wide variety of fantasy books for similarities in settings I knew to be beloved: Hogwarts, Camp Half-Blood, The Shire, etc. (note: I had to narrow the field, and I found fantasy better at creating remarkable settings than contemporary fiction, with more well-known examples to draw from, but I would argue that the same principles apply to settings in contemporary fiction).
In my research, I identified six key elements for creating a setting that is sure to captivate readers.
THE HAGRID
The Hagrid is my own term for a maternal character who introduces the protagonist (and the reader) to the setting. The Hagrid is kind, nurturing, and, above all, very enthusiastic about the setting. Once the Hagrid has both the protagonist and reader excited about the setting, the Hagrid delivers the protagonist to the setting.
The Hagrid usually isn’t the mentor figure of the series, but can act as one before the mentor arrives. (Think Obi Wan versus Yoda)
Examples: Hagrid in Harry Potter, Grover in the Percy Jackson series, Obi Wan in Star Wars
Why might a writer want to include a Hagrid in their work? The Hagrid is useful for two things: building up the setting for the reader and letting us know that it is a place where we might find more friendly faces. The character is a subtle way of ensuring the reader trusts that this setting will be a good one.
A REMARKABLE POINT OF ENTRY
Narnia has The Wardrobe. Hogwarts has Platform 9 ¾. Camp Half-Blood has a magical barrier.
The remarkable point of entry separates the setting from the real world. It delineates the humdrum world the protagonist and reader are used to from the fantastical place they’re headed. It’s the harbinger of adventures to come.
Additionally, It lets both the protagonist and the reader in on a secret. Not just anyone can get past the RPoE. There’s an air of exclusivity around it. No one knows what lies beyond except we select few.
We who know to walk through the wall.
We who were told the day’s password.
We who opened the book.
The remarkable point of entry marks both the setting as someplace special, and the protagonist as someone special. Because the reader goes through the RPoE by way of turning the page, it marks them as special, too.
AN INCLUSIVE COMMUNITY
Readers like to see ourselves in books. Now that we have entered this setting, we must feel as though we can belong there. Few books truly succeed at diversity in regards to race and sexual orientation; however, authors have achieved an air of inclusivity by utilising a couple of different methods.
The first is by showing that different categories of people can live in this place. Think of the house system in Harry Potter. The cabins of camp Half-Blood. Include a system of categorisation in a place and readers will immediately sort ourselves into it and achieve a sense of belonging for it.
The second–and fiction’s favorite–method of showing that a setting accepts everyone is by populating it with misfits. Think of Neville and Luna in Harry Potter. In The Lightning Thief, Percy Jackson has both ADHD and Dyslexia. Where in the outer world, these cause Percy trouble, in Camp Half-Blood, these traits help him excel. It utilises the trope of the ‘misfit’ to best effect: it transforms the setting into a place where the things that make us different and weird turn out to be our greatest strengths.
The settings in these books provide a place to belong for those who might not have any other place to belong. The settings become places where readers feel as though they could not only belong, but succeed in, too.
A SENSE OF SAFETY
The setting must not only provide a place where anyone can belong; it is almost always a place of great safety. Hagrid refers to Hogwarts as one of the safest places on Earth. Percy Jackson is told he’ll die outside of Camp Half-Blood. The Shire is known for being quiet and safe.
This makes sense as a feature one might want a home to have. It is the reason places like Panem and The New World in The Knife of Never Letting Go, although well-constructed settings, aren’t places a reader might ever wish to be “welcomed home.”
Because of this, safety is a crucial feature of settings the might ‘welcome a reader home.’ Without it, a reader may revisit a story for the plot, or for the characters, but never because we wish to return to the setting itself. The reader must know that whatever adventures take place, things will turn out alright in the end.
UNAVOIDABLE ADVENTURE
Although the setting must be safe, it cannot be boring. For a setting to truly enchant a reader, it must come with the sense that once there, adventure will find them. The Shire is the best example of this.
Bilbo does not want an adventure. He says so outright when one is first suggested: ‘we don’t want any adventures here, thank you’ (Tolkien, 5). Nonetheless, he finds himself in the middle of one: ‘Mr. Baggins… was beginning to wonder whether a most wretched adventure had not come right into his house’ (Tolkien, 11).
Although adventure is rare in The Shire, the reader would likely identify with Bilbo, and feel if they lived in The Shire, they would be picked out for an adventure, too. In any case, they’d be in the right place for it.
You see this with Harry stumbling across the Mirror of Erised, with the sybil granting Percy a quest.
It’s a trope of the hero’s journey: there must be a call to action, the hero must reject the call, and something must happen so the hero is forced to take action anyway. The unavoidable adventure that sets the plots into action, but it does more than that. It makes the setting a place where stories occurs. This allows the reader to imagine that if we were there, then, surely we would fall into an adventure worth writing a book about, too.
How could we not?
It’s unavoidable.
AN ELEMENT OF THE FANTASTIC
This element makes good on the promise set out with the remarkable point of entry.
It’s most important and indefinable feature of a beloved setting.
This is the talking portraits and moving stairways of Hogwarts. The round doors, under-hill homes, and second breakfasts in the Shire. The deadly serious games of Catch the Flag at Camp Half-Blood.
It doesn’t necessarily have to magical, but it has to be unique and larger than life. The fantastical element is the ‘wow factor’ of a setting. It’s what makes the setting stand out in the reader’s mind. What truly captures the reader’s imagination. It is crucial for making a setting truly effective.
I’m not going to claim that this list is either prescriptive or comprehensive, but hope it might prove a starting point in transforming your setting from a place your characters inhabit, to a place your readers inhabit, too.
e) he might be called Tim but that might be short for something
– Timmos
– Timotheus
– Timiron (yeah just add “Ron” when in doubt)
– Tiroth
– Timarimos
Congratulations your Tim both has a cute nickname and a full name that sounds vaguely badass, or if not badass long-winded and unnecessary enough to be a Fantasy Name™.
Also try to make the syllables sound like their personality. A suave and socially smooth character could maybe not have any hard ‘r’ or ‘br’ or ‘tr’ in their names. Etc.
Saving for future reference and because of the glorious Monty python gif
I haven’t seen any essays on this one, but I’ve just undergone a mission to remove it from my own manuscript, so I figured I’d write about it myself.
Take is one of those words that we use so often, we forget how unnecessary it usually is.
Compare these examples:
Jane takes a step.
Jane takes a sip.
Jane takes it from him.
to these:
Jane steps.
Jane sips.
Jane grabs it from him.
In each scenario, a strong verb replaces a weak one.
In the first two examples, the true action of the sentence is disguised as a direct object. This works similarly to the way the subject is disguised as the direct object in passive voice, and shouldn’t be used for the same reasons. It’s wordier, and by assuming the roll of the verb, it takes attention away from the actual action.
In the third example, take and grab work as synonyms, but grab is a more precise verb. Take has neutral connotations. It’s a catch-all for many actions. You can take a letter from someone’s hand gently or you can take it from their hand by snatching it away. You need context to see how the action is playing out. You need more words. By replacing “take” with “grab” in this instance, you’re saying the same and more. You don’t need more words to describe the “how” of the action, because the verb does it for you.
Words to use instead of take: accept, remove, seize, acquire, obtain, grab, grasp, etc.
Sometimes, when the action of is more neutral, “take” may work better. For example: if Jane takes some milk from the fridge, you don’t really need to clarify that she’s doing so roughly or gently. You don’t want to use a verb that’s stronger than the action itself.
You’ll also notice that the first examples are wordier than the latter ones. “Take” is a vague verb. It tells the reader little about the nature of the action. In most instances, it doesn’t deserve the space on the page.
When to use take:
You can use take when you’re talking about a more abstract subject. You’ll notice the time I’ve used take here, I’m not talking about a physical action. I’m talking about attention, something you can’t touch or smell or taste.
I could use a stronger verb in this scenario: “it commandeers attention from the actual action,” but that sounds silly. Flowery. Unnecessary. Here, a stronger verb doesn’t provide any more clarity. Nor does it match the more neutral tone of the sentence. Like I said, you don’t want to use a verb that’s stronger than the action itself.
You can use it when you’re being wordier on purpose. Consider which option achieves a better effect
He steps hesitantly toward her.
or
He takes a hesitant step toward her.
In this case, I’d personally say it was the latter option for two reasons.
It introduces “hesitant” before “step.” The moment a word comes up, it immediately brings an image into the reader’s mind. Even a simple, vague word like “step.” If your reader imagines a quick step, having to amend that image, even if it’s only a second later, can draw them out of the story. I personally don’t like taking that risk.
The pace of the sentence mirrors the pace of the action. Inserting “takes” here slows down the pace of the reading, mimicking the pace of the scene. In action scenes, short, clipped sentences work well because they imitate the action on the page. In a scene like this, whatever he’s about to do (profess his undying love for her, murder her, tell her that her father has died and now she’s Empress of All the Lands), there’s an element of suspense here. He’s wondering if he should do it. She’s wondering what he’s doing. And the reader is wondering it, too. Lengthening the sentence allows the reader to experience that hesitant step with the characters.
You can also, obviously, use take where it appears in common phrases: “take some time,” “take a break,” “takes after his mother,” etc.
When asking yourself if you should use the word “take,” ask the questions you should ask of every element of your writing:
Is it clear? Is it concise? Is it adding to my story?
An agent gets over a hundred. submissions per week. With that many submissions, a bad cover letter can be enough to get you thrown into the trash pile without the agent even reading your story.
On Tuesday I had a lecture by three agents, who told us a little bit about how to write your cover letter. I am going to share the tips with you.
*Get the names right. This sounds basic, but you’d be surprised how many get this wrong.
*It should contain three chapters of your story. Unless you are writing non-fiction, in which case they want a chapter breakdown as well. There is no point in sending in a script if your whole novel isn’t finished. They won’t take you on.
*The synopsis is not important. They just want a short summary of the story.
*If you are in a writing group, writing class, etc. Mention it. They like to see that you are serious about your writing.
*State which genre you are writing in.
*If you can, compare your story to other successful novels.
*Number your pages.
*Don’t try to be funny. And no gimmicks.
*AVOID sending your script in April and December. These are busy months, and they don’t have time to read a lot.
I hope this was helpful. Good luck with your writing! Follow me for more tips. ❤
“You are not allowed more than ‘two sighs’ per novel.”
This is a quote from my creative writing teacher. Personally, I think it’s a little too harsh, but I get the point. I try to limit the sighs as much as possible, because there really is such a thing as too many.
Try something else instead; exhaled, breathed out, let our a breath, etc. Or simply go with body language.
MissWriteress 