I haven't blogged in a while because I've been away. It's not an excuse (life's too short for excuses); it's just the reality of my working life at the moment. But a self-funded business development trip to Hong Kong was a great opportunity to soak up the essence of a place I had never visited. These experiences are never wasted.
The relevance to this rewrite blog post is the question of setting, or as I have come to think of it, the location equation.
The setting I picked for my book was Birmingham. Why? It's where I grew up, it's a place I find interesting, and there was a challenge implicit in making it an interesting place for readers. It is, after all, not high on people's bucket list of weekend destinations (they're all wrong, but that's another story).
It is also the birthplace of my protagonist. He hates the place.
In my mind this provided plenty of scope for tension between character and setting, for overturning people's preconceptions about a place, and opportunity to bring family issues into the subplot. I'd overlooked two important considerations: did the setting work for the main story, and would anyone choose to read a book like this based in dear old Brum?
It was another example of design trumping practicality and vitality in my story-telling. If readers have unappealing preconceptions about a place, there's little reason to choose it unless challenging those preconceptions is absolutely fundamental to the story. I was attracted by the idea of taking on that challenge, but in doing that I'd put another obstacle in the way of my reader.
In a discussion with agent David Headley, I first heard the argument for going with an easier location. His sense was that the story had a high concept feel to it, and that a readily accessible location for the reader would make it more attractive. This is art, but it's commercial art, so being more attractive is a Good Thing. I could see that a sexier location would solve many problems. I fact I knew straightaway how the story would work better in a capital city location. That interplay is what I should have been aiming for.
So, London it is. This time. I know the city and I can render it in the way that I want and need (whatever setting you choose, you can't assume that some positive reader baggage will be enough to bring it to life. We have to bring something else to the table. Read Peter Ackroyd's Hawksmoor and you'll never look at a London church in the same way again.) Having just come back from Hong Kong, I'm excited by the idea of sending Stephen Fiske to that fascinating bridge between east and west in his next outing. I've broken out of my self-imposed Birmingham restrictions, so I can take Fiske anywhere - that's liberating. And liberation is an accelerant to the fire of revision.
There's an equation to be considered, then, in that choice of setting:
Successful location = (relevance + resonance) x vivid realisation
One last point. Easy isn't everything. Birmingham is a difficult location, particularly in the way I want to treat it. So I'm not going to drop it altogether: Fiske is still a Brummie, and he'll visit from time to time. It's not the place you think it is.