How Real Places Shape Fiction (Even When They Don’t Show Up Literally)
After my recent podcast interview with Sean McLachlan, I’ve been thinking a lot about place — how it shapes us, our worldview, and the stories we create.
I’ve lived my whole life in Washington State, which gives me a long-rooted sense of home. But when I write, my worlds aren’t usually PNW transplants. Instead, they become mosaics of the places I’ve visited, walked through, researched, or imagined deeply:
- Septily’s Lake District — influenced by the misty fells and waters of England’s Lake District
- The desert tower in Book 1 — born from long drives through Nevada’s stark, sun-struck landscapes
- Rryssoria — echoes of Washington forests mixed with northern European ruggedness
- Skycliff — European city fortresses with just a hint of coastal Northwest
None of them are replicas. They’re emotional impressions — the shape of light on water, the way stone holds history, the feeling of wind on a ridge.
A writer doesn’t need to travel constantly to write convincingly about place. Depth comes from attention, not mileage.
Where you stand — your home, your familiar landscapes, your well-loved routes — becomes your baseline. Where you travel — physically or through story — expands it.
Together, they create a world uniquely yours.
Writing Prompt:
Blend two real places you know — one familiar, one far away — into a single setting. How does the mood shift? What traits merge or clash?