Maximum Settings = Mini Vacations (by Ashley-Ruth M. Bernier)

Ashley-Ruth M. Bernier is an Ellery Queen regular and St. Thomas native. In this thoughtful post, she describes how the rich, detailed settings of mystery fiction are one of her great joys of reading and writing

From novels to TV serials to Super Bowl halftime shows, storytellers everywhere have looked for creative ways to bring a vibrant but unfamiliar setting to life for those that consume their tales. Characters and events are supremely important, of course, but some of the greatest stories include setting as a force of its own, driving the story forward and pulling the reader (or viewer) in. Short fiction isn’t immune to this. In fact, many short fiction writers find themselves facing the unique challenge of packing interesting characters, a twisty plot, AND an authentically crafted setting into a tiny word economy. For many writers whose tales have found their way into the pages of EQMM, this challenge was cheerfully and bravely accepted—and as a frequent reader, I’ve loved being transported to bright and dazzling cities, quiet and sinister countryside estates, chilly industrial towns and picturesque, well-kept neighborhoods: all perfect settings for twisty and compulsively readable crimes!

No matter the setting or the media through which it’s portrayed, though, authors have the responsibility to bring that setting to life authentically—emphasis on the “authentic” part. Readers bring ideas and knowledge they already have to the setting of a story. This is a great place to start, of course, but it could also lead to some misconceptions if their schema is wrong or incomplete. Should every story set in Miami include cigars, guayabera shirts, and bikinis, or every story set in New Orleans include Mardi Gras and jazz bands? Perhaps, but I know writers from those locales would insist that there’s so much more to their cities than just those well-known themes. Including familiar aspects of a setting is a great way to connect with readers, but when the details veer from surface-level familiarity to a deeper exploration of the features that make a setting unique, it can create the kind of experience that lingers with the reader long after the story is finished. EQMM does a wonderful job of selecting stories for their Passport to Crime feature that accomplish this regularly.

In my case, I definitely have a preferred setting when I write, and it’s a place that may be unfamiliar for many readers. Although I’ve lived in the continental United States for a few years now, my stories are mostly set in my homeland of St. Thomas, US Virgin Islands. I’ve written a few stories set in other places, but one of my biggest joys as a writer is putting my Caribbean culture front and center on the page to share with readers. I’m also keenly aware of the fact that many readers arrive at my stories with the kind of schema we try to sell in our tourism commercials—sunshine, sandy shores, clear blue water, and a healthy . . . okay, maybe a little unhealthy . . . amount of rum. While I include some of this in my stories, my goal is to showcase parts of the culture that aren’t seen from the cruise ship deck or the taxi van window. It means including areas of the island that feel mundane or ordinary. It means featuring cuisine that may be unfamiliar to readers. It means having my characters speak in dialect or using idioms that we toss around on-island. It means welcoming readers into an authentic experience—making sure the story feels less like a comfortable guided bus tour and more like inviting someone to walk through a slightly messy yard and onto the back porch for a totally different view.

A few years ago, many Virgin Islanders took part in a viral social media trend. The idea was to post a picture of something seemingly mundane—the morning commute to work, the view from the living room window, the afternoon jogging route—that was actually a gorgeous vista, with the caption “I live where you vacation”. I try to keep this thought in mind when I write my St. Thomas-based fiction, but not in the context of the original meaning. When I write my stories, “I live where you vacation” feels less like a boast about living in paradise and more like a reminder that no matter how gorgeous the island is, people still live here. My characters still have to shop for groceries, deal with power outages, clean their houses, navigate heavy traffic, and go to work. This is where I find the opportunities to make the setting most relatable and authentic—which, in turn, allows my characters space to speak and act realistically, to make all the terrible decisions that lead to a great crime or mystery story.

In my story for the March/April issue of EQMM, “Two-Hour Vacation,” I try to combine the mundane and the uniquely beautiful realities of life on St. Thomas. First, I tap into my own experience as a mom of little ones living on-island. Our oldest three children were born on St. Thomas, and trust me, there’s nothing like balancing the joy of spending the day immersed in the beauty of world-renowned beaches with the reality of lugging along several bags of supplies and toys, bringing home what felt like half the beach’s sand in the car, and spending the evening washing everyone’s hair. I also try to include different views of the same island—postcard-worthy vistas from winding hillsides, but also a chicken-scratched dirt yard tucked away in a quiet neighborhood; imported gourmet groceries as well as the slow and simple goodness of bush tea and butter bread in the middle of the afternoon. Finally, I try to tap into the feeling of being so busy with the routine tasks of life and parenthood that the perks of living on a gorgeous island are forgotten. I hope these details make the setting feel more accessible for readers, and that they enjoy the “vacation” as they dive into the story.

On that note, every well-written story should make us feel like this—like we’re taking a bit of a vacation from reality to enter an unfamiliar but intriguing world—and an authentically written setting, no matter how exotic or how mundane, can help to ensure that feeling. I look forward to all the armchair traveling I’ll be doing with my EQMM issues this year!

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