The setting of my story is the world. It is my oyster, and I am fully ready to make the most of everything I am given.
I can’t take anything granted, and I know I must work really hard to get what I deserve so that what I get is indeed what I deserve. Sometimes the world fucks me over, but that is life, eh?
I would do nothing to change this setting.
The sun is setting while we set the table for dinner. There are three of us tonight. Sometimes, there are as many as seven or eight, depending on who shows up.
As the night grows darker, the weather gets chillier, the dogs come in and the coyotes commence to sing. We cling to each other but there is no fear. We know that at long as we are together, the world is safe and will stay at bay.
Its hard to find a way to let the word setting infiltrate in your everd day communication. Like setting on the washer trying to feel the vibrations go through nmy body to keep from crying in a bowl of doup that I did not cook.
A place to far from home, on a distant shore I never recognize. What happened to me? Where is the sound of the ocean? Where is the cold spray against my back? Suddenly, I remember, this is hell. This is where I got lost.
the place where something occurs, the backdrop. Where a scene or interaction takes place. Something that influences tone and mood. A mood altering factor even beyond fiction. Impossible things to navigate on iphone.
The whole word is a stage and the men and woman are merely players. No truer words have been spoken. The setting is nothing, means nothing, is nothing. The people in the setting, now thats what you have to watch out for. You have to look past gloomy trees and fog misted woods in order to see the truth behind the setting. Setting is always secondary to character development.
This is just the way I dreamt it would look when we finally gazed into each others eyes and saw exactly what we’ve been needing to see in someone for the longest time.. so please kiss me before I wake up again..
The dust is setting, and all that’s left of you is this sting in my eyes and the fine layer of everything we had, exploded and floating on the surface of this empty apartment. White, frothing, and a constant reminder. You left, and you’re never coming back.
The setting of the dialogue wasn’t important. What he said, what she said could have been said anywhere. Their surroundings fell away until it was just the two of them talking about each other.
setting is what surrounds you in a place, obviously. the decor, furniture, the zen, the feeling you get. or simply at the beach, inside, in the forest; hence, where a movie takes place. Setting can be described as a table setting: forks, knives, plates, fancy napkins.
Karen sighed as she began to set the table for Thanksgiving. Usually her Grammy did this, but not this year. Not ever again. Another sigh.
It had happened just last month. The doctors said that she passed away painlessly in her sleep. She hoped so.
Karen shook her head, trying to focus on her task. One plate for Momma, one plate for Dad, one plate for Micheal, and one plate for herself. She had to hold back her tears when she realized that she had set a place for Grammy.
The sun is setting. The lights melt into the cityscape with a surety of tomorrow, and I wish I could share it. It hurts my eyes to see the truth, so blinding in the glass of the skyscrapers and car windows that I have to turn my head in denial. What am I doing with my life?
Setting down my pen, I looked out the window to see my reality falling to pieces around me. I was not where I had left myself, nor could I ever go back. I opened the window, and jumped out onto the roof. As the rain swept through the horizon, I looked onward to the rest of my life, greeting it with open arms.
It’s funny just how colorful autumn pretends to be.
Walking under trees, all we seem to see are vibrant reds, yellows,
oranges, and greens. But when you back up and look at the big picture…
All you can see is a dull, faded brown.
The setting, also known as the exposition, is a crucial plot element. It is often very descriptive, and it sets the premise for the rest of the story. Setting is a literary term, and is the least deconstructed of among them.
The stupid thing that I have to teach in school that is where the story takes place. The setting is really important because where a person is defines who they are. This is something that I have been learning recently because I am realizing that if I live in Chicago I act differently than living anywhere else.
The place where I feel most at home. What I create as an author, spinning words like spiderwebs from person to person, weaving what is around them into the hilly backdrop known as setting. We are part of it, we are part of our landscape. Stripes or spots, whatever camouflages we use to fit in. Everything is part of this vast, fragmented world.
The setting of the scene was a woman’s bedroom. The woman I loved. We painted and colored like children all over again and when i had the change to make a move, to kiss the girl I had chased for so long I didn’t. No, instead I set a paint covered hand on her gentle cheek and we laughed like the little kids we will always be.
he wove the fabric out of threads of plot, each one shining vibrant hues, some more dun than others. they formed something glowing and lacewing-fine, with small holes and loose threads, neatly knotted ends and skeins of string the precise color of autumn.
i love him. i do. but, part of my feels as though he is cheating on me. with her. the way he looked at her. the way he talks about her. this is no ordinary friendship. i am her replacement. for now…
I am just setting here, waiting for my virtual resources to be magically revived by the elves that work behind the scenes. If it werent for them, I would do a lot more setting…
All around me, my life is the same setting as other people, until I travel the world. Then I see new, exciting places, and learn history without it being boring. I love France and Belgium, since they’re charming, small, and beautiful people live there.
a setting is where we live, a moment in time depending on what we give. Will it root into a tree or just another thorn, that tears aside all things warm. But in reality it’s just now, and really nothing is real. As long as we can feel.
The setting, he thought, was perfect. The food was still warm, the mood was set, and the ring was in his back pocket. “I can’t,” I told him. His face turned a ghostly pallor and I grew suddenly weary. Who should be the one to walk away when we’re both so tired of pretending? Who should be the one to slam the front door angrily when we both live in the same run-down complex? We didn’t know. So we both remained seated.
The food grew cold, like the thin layer of atmosphere between us.
The candle blew out.
We each carefully tore off the hearts we used to wear on our sleeves and silently returned them, in hopes that we could one day give them away again.
Setting is a place and time that has meaning to you. Its something that sparks your attention and makes you step back and enjoy the view. But everyone knows its not where you are, its who your with that really counts. (:
Setting. Time and place. Books. Literature. English class. Essays. Quick. Time period. Stage. Opera. Singing. Train of thought. Waiting. Sitting. Tree. Leaves. Tire swing. Fall. Ouch. Autumn. Leaves. Again. All the other kids. Playing kick the can. Alabama. Little kids. So cute. Cousins. Love. Family. Thanksgiving. Can’t wait. To eat. :)
The setting. It is a vineyard. No it’s the Himalayas. Actually we’re in the Outback. Moving on.. to the Great Plains. I’m visiting Victoria Falls. Yikes, I’m still in Houston.
Jensen lay on the metal floor of the van and listened as everyone settled in around him. Then a curt female voice barked, “Let’s roll!” and with that the van lurched forward, the engine’s vibrations telegraphing though Jensen’s body.
“Jesus, the setting of this whole shitfest couldn’t be more fitting,” Jensen thought, eyes still closed.
laying down an object or an idea to set up what you’re going to say next. ideas and people can all be in the setting. whatever you desire can be in the setting. set up what you want to write about. where you are is the setting, where you want to be.
So here I am at my keyboard, trying to bank out a novel. Every November. Every fucking November I torture myself like this. Fifty thousand words, they say. One thousand six hundred, sixty-six words per day. I described the setting. Took three words. Only 49,997 to go.
My life. My home. Where I go. Beauty is all around me, in every setting. Sometimes you need to see through the concrete and dust to find it, but it’s there. Giving everyone hope of love and life.
the setting was perfect. a backdrop of emerald green water and low hanging trees. gorgeous girls and handsome guys lined up, arm in arm for pictures.little did they know, this seemingly perfect night was about to take a turn for the worse.
Das Setting war denkbar ungünstig. Hier sie (SIE!), dort meine Mutter. Meine Mutter kannte sie. Und sie hatte mir immer wieder, mindestens einmal in der Woche, eingebläut: “Lass dich bloß nicht mit SO einer ein!” Das war das letzte, was ich tun durfte. Und ich hatte es getan. Und zwar nicht nur mit “so einer”, sondern mit ihr persönlich.
The setting was a cold one; skeletal trees raised against a cool grey sky. Snow had receeded from the streets, but not the grass. It was the color of dull metal. Silence ruled even the cold noone could be seen outside. Traffic had halted most likely ages ago.
Looking around you wouldn’t think this was the “right” place for this kind of a conversation, but they were beyond location. They didn’t let the setting define the situation. Instead they got lost in conversation, in the beauty of words as thoughts traveled through the air between them, completely unaware of the “inappropriate” setting.
Setting is what’s all around you, or the location your in.
Setting is also a verb like setting something down.
Setting is also a place setting on the dinner table for your food.
My setting right now is my boyrfriends apartment with art supplies all over
Setting my iPad aside, I was left with a heavy heart today. Yes, I am iSad. RIP Steve.
The setting of my story is the world. It is my oyster, and I am fully ready to make the most of everything I am given.
I can’t take anything granted, and I know I must work really hard to get what I deserve so that what I get is indeed what I deserve. Sometimes the world fucks me over, but that is life, eh?
I would do nothing to change this setting.
The sun is setting while we set the table for dinner. There are three of us tonight. Sometimes, there are as many as seven or eight, depending on who shows up.
As the night grows darker, the weather gets chillier, the dogs come in and the coyotes commence to sing. We cling to each other but there is no fear. We know that at long as we are together, the world is safe and will stay at bay.
Its hard to find a way to let the word setting infiltrate in your everd day communication. Like setting on the washer trying to feel the vibrations go through nmy body to keep from crying in a bowl of doup that I did not cook.
A place to far from home, on a distant shore I never recognize. What happened to me? Where is the sound of the ocean? Where is the cold spray against my back? Suddenly, I remember, this is hell. This is where I got lost.
the place where something occurs, the backdrop. Where a scene or interaction takes place. Something that influences tone and mood. A mood altering factor even beyond fiction. Impossible things to navigate on iphone.
The whole word is a stage and the men and woman are merely players. No truer words have been spoken. The setting is nothing, means nothing, is nothing. The people in the setting, now thats what you have to watch out for. You have to look past gloomy trees and fog misted woods in order to see the truth behind the setting. Setting is always secondary to character development.
This is just the way I dreamt it would look when we finally gazed into each others eyes and saw exactly what we’ve been needing to see in someone for the longest time.. so please kiss me before I wake up again..
The dust is setting, and all that’s left of you is this sting in my eyes and the fine layer of everything we had, exploded and floating on the surface of this empty apartment. White, frothing, and a constant reminder. You left, and you’re never coming back.
The setting of the dialogue wasn’t important. What he said, what she said could have been said anywhere. Their surroundings fell away until it was just the two of them talking about each other.
setting is what surrounds you in a place, obviously. the decor, furniture, the zen, the feeling you get. or simply at the beach, inside, in the forest; hence, where a movie takes place. Setting can be described as a table setting: forks, knives, plates, fancy napkins.
Karen sighed as she began to set the table for Thanksgiving. Usually her Grammy did this, but not this year. Not ever again. Another sigh.
It had happened just last month. The doctors said that she passed away painlessly in her sleep. She hoped so.
Karen shook her head, trying to focus on her task. One plate for Momma, one plate for Dad, one plate for Micheal, and one plate for herself. She had to hold back her tears when she realized that she had set a place for Grammy.
The sun is setting. The lights melt into the cityscape with a surety of tomorrow, and I wish I could share it. It hurts my eyes to see the truth, so blinding in the glass of the skyscrapers and car windows that I have to turn my head in denial. What am I doing with my life?
Setting down my pen, I looked out the window to see my reality falling to pieces around me. I was not where I had left myself, nor could I ever go back. I opened the window, and jumped out onto the roof. As the rain swept through the horizon, I looked onward to the rest of my life, greeting it with open arms.
It’s funny just how colorful autumn pretends to be.
Walking under trees, all we seem to see are vibrant reds, yellows,
oranges, and greens. But when you back up and look at the big picture…
All you can see is a dull, faded brown.
The setting, also known as the exposition, is a crucial plot element. It is often very descriptive, and it sets the premise for the rest of the story. Setting is a literary term, and is the least deconstructed of among them.
The stupid thing that I have to teach in school that is where the story takes place. The setting is really important because where a person is defines who they are. This is something that I have been learning recently because I am realizing that if I live in Chicago I act differently than living anywhere else.
The place where I feel most at home. What I create as an author, spinning words like spiderwebs from person to person, weaving what is around them into the hilly backdrop known as setting. We are part of it, we are part of our landscape. Stripes or spots, whatever camouflages we use to fit in. Everything is part of this vast, fragmented world.
The setting of the scene was a woman’s bedroom. The woman I loved. We painted and colored like children all over again and when i had the change to make a move, to kiss the girl I had chased for so long I didn’t. No, instead I set a paint covered hand on her gentle cheek and we laughed like the little kids we will always be.
he wove the fabric out of threads of plot, each one shining vibrant hues, some more dun than others. they formed something glowing and lacewing-fine, with small holes and loose threads, neatly knotted ends and skeins of string the precise color of autumn.
i love him. i do. but, part of my feels as though he is cheating on me. with her. the way he looked at her. the way he talks about her. this is no ordinary friendship. i am her replacement. for now…
I am just setting here, waiting for my virtual resources to be magically revived by the elves that work behind the scenes. If it werent for them, I would do a lot more setting…
All around me, my life is the same setting as other people, until I travel the world. Then I see new, exciting places, and learn history without it being boring. I love France and Belgium, since they’re charming, small, and beautiful people live there.
a setting is where we live, a moment in time depending on what we give. Will it root into a tree or just another thorn, that tears aside all things warm. But in reality it’s just now, and really nothing is real. As long as we can feel.
The setting, he thought, was perfect. The food was still warm, the mood was set, and the ring was in his back pocket. “I can’t,” I told him. His face turned a ghostly pallor and I grew suddenly weary. Who should be the one to walk away when we’re both so tired of pretending? Who should be the one to slam the front door angrily when we both live in the same run-down complex? We didn’t know. So we both remained seated.
The food grew cold, like the thin layer of atmosphere between us.
The candle blew out.
We each carefully tore off the hearts we used to wear on our sleeves and silently returned them, in hopes that we could one day give them away again.
Setting is a place and time that has meaning to you. Its something that sparks your attention and makes you step back and enjoy the view. But everyone knows its not where you are, its who your with that really counts. (:
Setting. Time and place. Books. Literature. English class. Essays. Quick. Time period. Stage. Opera. Singing. Train of thought. Waiting. Sitting. Tree. Leaves. Tire swing. Fall. Ouch. Autumn. Leaves. Again. All the other kids. Playing kick the can. Alabama. Little kids. So cute. Cousins. Love. Family. Thanksgiving. Can’t wait. To eat. :)
The setting. It is a vineyard. No it’s the Himalayas. Actually we’re in the Outback. Moving on.. to the Great Plains. I’m visiting Victoria Falls. Yikes, I’m still in Houston.
the place a story takes place including the background, mood, weather, etc.
Jensen lay on the metal floor of the van and listened as everyone settled in around him. Then a curt female voice barked, “Let’s roll!” and with that the van lurched forward, the engine’s vibrations telegraphing though Jensen’s body.
“Jesus, the setting of this whole shitfest couldn’t be more fitting,” Jensen thought, eyes still closed.
laying down an object or an idea to set up what you’re going to say next. ideas and people can all be in the setting. whatever you desire can be in the setting. set up what you want to write about. where you are is the setting, where you want to be.
So here I am at my keyboard, trying to bank out a novel. Every November. Every fucking November I torture myself like this. Fifty thousand words, they say. One thousand six hundred, sixty-six words per day. I described the setting. Took three words. Only 49,997 to go.
My life. My home. Where I go. Beauty is all around me, in every setting. Sometimes you need to see through the concrete and dust to find it, but it’s there. Giving everyone hope of love and life.
Where would a book be without a setting?
A setting can be in a castle on the Mediterranean Sea in the 14th century.
A setting can be in a farm house in Iowa.
A setting can be on an alien mother ship sometime in the future.
Where would any of us be without setting?
writer’s block. ………..I am surrounded by things that I wish I couldn’t see
the setting was perfect. a backdrop of emerald green water and low hanging trees. gorgeous girls and handsome guys lined up, arm in arm for pictures.little did they know, this seemingly perfect night was about to take a turn for the worse.
Das Setting war denkbar ungünstig. Hier sie (SIE!), dort meine Mutter. Meine Mutter kannte sie. Und sie hatte mir immer wieder, mindestens einmal in der Woche, eingebläut: “Lass dich bloß nicht mit SO einer ein!” Das war das letzte, was ich tun durfte. Und ich hatte es getan. Und zwar nicht nur mit “so einer”, sondern mit ihr persönlich.
The setting was a cold one; skeletal trees raised against a cool grey sky. Snow had receeded from the streets, but not the grass. It was the color of dull metal. Silence ruled even the cold noone could be seen outside. Traffic had halted most likely ages ago.
Looking around you wouldn’t think this was the “right” place for this kind of a conversation, but they were beyond location. They didn’t let the setting define the situation. Instead they got lost in conversation, in the beauty of words as thoughts traveled through the air between them, completely unaware of the “inappropriate” setting.
Setting is what’s all around you, or the location your in.
Setting is also a verb like setting something down.
Setting is also a place setting on the dinner table for your food.
My setting right now is my boyrfriends apartment with art supplies all over