Make Room for Nature in Your Stories

"Confront nature!" is the slogan of a society in a story I'm writing. I found myself wondering how often what I read, especially unpublished manuscripts, occurs only in the built world. Characters often seem to be imprisoned in offices, restaurants, classrooms, and their own homes. Plays and older sitcoms had a reason for this. Bringing the outdoors to audiences for each could be tricky and expensive. Nature can be unpredictable.

We, as writers, aren't under house arrest in any medium anymore. And, while not every story calls for birds singing or gardens or bike trails, it's important to keep natural settings in mind — even if you're not writing about getting lost in the jungle or climate fiction (cli-fi), where rising oceans threaten Miami.

In The Birds, Hitchcock pulls back from disaster to show how small people are. It provides us with a powerful perspective and a reminder that people need not be at the center of everything. Also, that we are vulnerable. Using nature, even just with reference to weather, leads to a deeper and fuller engagement of the senses. The first snowfall chills the air, taps the crisp leaves, and blankets everything with white. Category five storms aren't needed to get our attention and immerse us in the moments of stories.

Nobel laureate Richard Feynman wrote about how observation of nature was essential to his development as a keen observer. He said his father did not do what other fathers did — name the birds and plants and flowers. Instead, he encouraged his son to see actions, and changes, and behaviors. Though precise language has a value for writers, my noting how woodpeckers chase away other birds to snag peanuts or chickadees deftly keep themselves away from larger birds by quickly grabbing snacks or male cardinals bring seeds to their mates and feed them is more interesting than listing the names of birds that visit my feeder.

Da Vinci used nature as a source of answers. Of course, many of us relax by hiking or gardening and allowing our minds to subconsciously work through problems as we do so. But da Vinci actually looked for answers about flight by observing birds and about anatomy by watching animals and people move. He certainly emulated nature in terms of directly copying aspects for components of his devices. But he also looked for balance and contrasts and flow, and those found their ways into his paintings. The Mona Lisa is surrounded by nature, suggesting her life in a larger context.

With all due respect to William Faulkner — who famously said, “The only thing worth writing about is the human heart in conflict with itself” — the world we live in, the planet we need to protect, and the web of life that nurtures us are much larger than his vital theme.

If you can escape from the building–car–building paradigm for story locales and include scenes that take place outdoors, even in an urban pocket park (as long as it's big enough for animals), your story will be bigger and more emotional. And, if such scenes include a quiet embrace of nature, they may even evoke wonder.