Every book, regardless of what kind – Suspense/Romance, Fantasy, Thriller, Historical romance – every book starts out someplace. In a world. At a moment. And, in today’s literature, with a person. Whether it’s a firecracker start to a book, or something that begins with a wide-angle view, drawing into the scene, it needs to have action. Movement. A place for your reader’s eye to land, and a perspective with which to view it.

A good way to see storyworld is to watch the opening scenes of a movie. Note the details of the scene, and how they pinpoint on just a few and then move into the action with the character.

I recently wrote a book that started in Night Market, in Taiwan. I could have started with description, the hundreds of tables pushed side by side, hawking chicken legs and squid on a stick, the cloying smell of sweet potatoes mixed with the pungency of tea eggs. I could have talked about the voices of the vendors, each rising above the other in a wild, chaotic cacophony that outshouted even the seagulls at the nearby shipyards.

However, if I simply describe the scene, then the reader doesn’t know how to interpret what they see. They need a character to perceive the sights, and sift them through their grid of understanding. Scenery without pov interpretation is, well, boring. (Unless it’s in omniscent pov, but then again, you do have a pov — the narrator).

Yet, put someone in the scene with a purpose, even something at stake, and it becomes compelling. What if they’re looking for a small boy, lost in the crowd? Every vendor would be suspect, every vat of boiling oil a horror. Or, hiding from someone? Suddenly the market becomes their salvation. What if they’re hungry, and have no money? Then night market becomes tantalizing, and perhaps pushing them over the edge.

Here’s the secret – move your character through the scene, experiencing the DETAILS as they go, and the scene will go from static to alive.

Here’s the first scene with my hero from an upcoming book called “Wiser than Serpents.”

*****

He’d never eaten deep fried frog on a stick, but David Curtiss was a patriot, and he’d do just about anything for his country.

“Shei Shei,” he said as he took the delicacy from the vendor, fished out a New Taiwan Dollar and dropped it into the vendor’s hand.

He wondered what might leave a worse taste in his mouth, fried frog, or meeting a man who had beheaded the two undercover agents that had tried this trick before David. But if all went as planned, his culinary sacrifice would lead him to the identity of Kwan-Li, leader of the Twin Serpents, the largest organized crime syndicate in eastern Asia.

The smells of night market were enough to turn even his iron gut to mush — body odor, eggs boiled in soy sauce, fresh fish and oil redolent from the nearby shipyard. Even worse, the fare offered in the busy open market sounded like something from a house of horrors menu: Grilled chicken feet, boiled snails, breaded salamander, poached pigeon eggs, and the specialty of the day — carp head soup.

“What did you get me into, Chet?” he whispered, wondering if Chet Stryker, his co-hort for his unfortunate op, were grinning at the other end of his transmitter. “Squid, or even snails, okay, but a frog?” Chet had set up this meet — and the frog signal. “Next time, you’re going to be drinking asparagus juice, buddy.” He hoped Chet’s silence meant he still had eyes on him. David hadn’t seen his partner in the forty-five minutes he’d been walking around the market — a sign of Chet’s skill, no doubt.

David looked at the brown and crispy frog and wondered if he was supposed to add condiments —he’d noticed a sort of ketchup, and horseradish at the bar.

A few more seconds and he’d have to take a bite. It wasn’t enough to just stand here and try to blend with the crowd — not an easy task given that every man who brushed by him stood around chin height. Even with David’s long black dyed hair, silk Asian shirt and designer jeans he knew he looked like a walking American billboard. Thankfully, foreigners flocked to the novelty of night market in this part of Kaohsiung in Taiwan.

He saw a couple of Americans stroll by, listened to their comments about the food, the smells. A short blonde, slightly pudgy, wearing a blue Taiwanese shirt and shorts set probably purchased in a local beach shop sucked on the straw of a Ju Ju Bee shake. Next to her, her husband was finishing off a grilled squid. Aid workers, probably — the island had a plethora of Americans working in relief and humanitarian aid agencies. Especially after the last earthquake.

He checked his watch. Kwan’s man was late. Which meant he’d have to take a bite of froggie.

He lifted the amphibian to his mouth.

****

Everything that happens in Night Market is through David’s eyes, as he’s waiting for his contact. Because it’s a thriller, I go right into the action, but I still want readers to know where they are.

Creating storyworld is more than just an overview of scenery. It’s details, and the perspective of the character in it.

I received some wonderful opening storyworld scenes today! You still have a couple days to find a particularly rich paragraph that shows YOUR storyworld (in chapter one), and send it to me at booktherapy@susanmaywarren.com. We’ll pick ONE to share on Friday (and that person will win their choice of a SMW or RH book. Rach has a new one out that you DON’T want to miss!) And, if you want to refine it a little before sending it in, hop over to Voices, and we’ll work on it together!

See you tomorrow, when we talk about active writing, and using the right nouns and verbs to woo your reader into the story.