Setting: Ruins

If you’re like me, the word ruins brings to mind images of ancient, dilapidated structures. Crumbling stone covered by tangled vines. A few lonely birds. A mournful breeze. These are places that are steeped in history and legend, such as Machu Picchu, Stonehenge, or Dunluce Castle.

But ruins are a lot more common than we think, and they may look different than we expect.

Mirriam Webster defines ruins as “the state of being ruined” or “the remains of something destroyed.” With this lens, it is possible to see that there are modern ruins all around us. We might be able to notice the more obvious ones right away: a car wreck, a condemned church or apartment downtown, an empty barn with a sagging roof next to the highway.

But other ordinary things get destroyed all the time: a sandcastle at the beach, a school project after it’s been graded, a stovetop meal burned to a crisp.

“Little things, you see, can hide a world of meaning. As writers, we should be attuned to this truth and use it to create characters who are as real as we are.”

Sometimes the loss of these things is inconsequential. Sometimes, it can be significant, if not downright paralyzing, depending on the surrounding circumstances. The sand castle might have been the last thing I built with my best friend before she went for heart surgery, and I’ve got it in my head that as long as the castle is okay, then she will be, too. Maybe the school project was the only thing I ever felt I did right in my life, but my teacher made fun of it in front of the class. That burnt meal on the stove might be the most recent in a chain of events that finally causes me to have a complete mental breakdown.

Little things, you see, can hide a world of meaning. As writers, we should be attuned to this truth and use it to create characters who are as real as we are.

Recently, I was driving to an appointment in a residential neighbourhood about seven minutes away from my apartment. I had driven the route before and nothing appeared out of the ordinary. Then, I saw the wreckage. Where a beautiful home had once stood, there was now a massive pile of rubble. The house next to it was still standing, but the roof had collapsed in the back. As I slowed my car to a crawl and gaped through the passenger window, I could see thick sheets of ice on the garage door of the partially-standing house, evidence of the water that had been used to douse the fire in -30-degree weather.

I learned that the fire had occurred just two days prior, during a bitterly cold snap. It had engulfed the first house and spread to the second before the fire department was able to get the flames under control. Everyone made it to safety, but their homes and possessions were gone in what must have felt like the blink of an eye.

Regardless of how ruins are made – whether it’s over years of neglect or a sudden misfortune – you can be assured that there are stories, dreams, and experiences that are lost along with the building or object itself. Human beings forge emotional connections with the places in which we find ourselves. I’m sure you can think of places from your own life that you would actually enjoy seeing reduced to a pile of rubble. Meanwhile, there are places that you love dearly and the idea of anything happening to them makes you tense up in horror.

The presence of something ruined always reflects the presence of something lost. The question of what has been lost can spur incredible stories into motion.

Sometimes, a story will feature a setting’s ruination as a pivotal plot point. The Greatest Showman is a perfect example. Barnum’s circus going up in flames mirrors the disintegration of both his marriage and his dreams, and it pushes him to make a choice about the man he truly wants to be.

“The presence of something ruined always reflects the presence of something lost. The question of what has been lost can spur incredible stories into motion.”

Other times, the process of destruction is less important to the characters than the ruins themselves. The ruins might become a safe place for the protagonist: a hiding spot, a secret meeting location, a base of operations, etc. In stories like this, it is interesting to explore how the history of the place can subtly influence a character’s habits, choices, and emotions.

There are wonderful opportunities here as an author. In what ways could you weave the motif of time into the story of a character hiding out in an old clock tower? What does the cold, darkness, and eerie echoes of an abandoned mine shaft do to the psyche of a character who has been driven to hide in the shadows? How would the final battle between protagonist and antagonist look different if you set it on the pile of bricks that used to be the walls of their one place of connection?

Ruins are all around us. They hold within themselves an incredible tension between their history and the opportunity they present for new growth and experience. Ask yourself: how have ruins affected your own life story? How will they affect the life of your characters?

Writing Challenge

• This week, make a list of the ruins you notice in your day-to-day life. Are there broken or wrecked things that are hiding in plain sight around you?

• Choose one of the ruined places you notice and brainstorm ideas for how this place could be significant to someone now, in its current state.

• Make a list of ruined settings that you think would make a fascinating setting in a story.

• Write a scene about your favourite ruined setting that you have witnessed or imagined. You could write the scene about the actual destruction of that place, a flashback of what it was like in the past, or a scene about how it is being used by a character now that it has been destroyed.

A FEW effective examples of ruins in movies and books (I’m sure you could think of many more):

The Greatest Showman – a fire destroys Barnum’s circus and forces him to evaluate who he is and what he really wants

Sing – basically The Greatest Showman, but animated

Here in the Real World by Sara Pennypacker – a condemned church becomes the protagonist’s safe place during a difficult summer

The Thief Lord by Cornelia Funke – a dilapidated cinema in Venice is the hideout of five orphans and the leader who’s been lying to them

The Martian by Andy Weir – a highly unusual example of ruins: the sudden and extremely depressing destruction of Mark Watney’s potato farm on Mars