The Pacific Northwest: Setting in Fiction Behind Piano Zen

How Setting in Fiction Became the Heart of Piano Zen

Back in 2018, I decided I was going to write a novel for adults.

At least… that was the plan.

The problem was, I didn't really have a center yet. The story was floating around without anything solid to grab onto. I knew there was something there, but I couldn't quite find the place where it all came together.

Around that time, my wife and I were hiking in Portland, heading up the Wildwood Trail toward Pittock Mansion. If you've ever been up there, you know the view. The city opens up below you, and on a clear day, Mt. Hood rises in the distance—snow-capped, majestic… impossible to ignore.

Near the mansion, there's a smaller building, the Gate Lodge. It used to be where the groundskeeper and his family lived. Many people wander over there after touring the mansion. I always thought that contrast was interesting. Big house up on the hill… then this much smaller, modest home just off to the side. There's a bit of a Downton Abbey vibe to it all.

Anyway, we made it up there that day, and I remember just standing on the grounds for a bit. Looking around. Not really thinking in a structured way, more just taking it in.

And then something shifted.

Not in a dramatic way. No lightning bolt. Just a quiet sense of, this is it.

I didn't know what "it" meant yet. I didn't suddenly see the whole story. But I knew this place was going to matter.

It wasn't just the mansion.

It was the walk up to it. The trail. The feeling of moving through the forest before you arrive at that open space. The tall trees, the filtered light, the bird songs… that sense that there's something just under the surface if you stay with it long enough. This is where I discovered how powerful setting in fiction truly is—not just as backdrop, but as a character itself.

That stayed with me.

And over time, it all started to shift. Not all at once. Just gradually.

The mansion became something else.

The Gate Lodge took on a different role.

The forest expanded into something deeper.

Eventually, it all found its way into the world of Nightingale.

The Prescott Mansion.

The Gate Lodge.

The Whispering Woods of the Tall Pines.

None of it came from a single moment of planning. It came from being in a place that already had a kind of story built into it. Understanding setting in fiction this way—as something alive and already breathing—changed how I approached the entire novel.

I think that's when I started to understand something fundamental about writing this book.

Sometimes you don't begin with a fully formed idea. You just need to find the place where the story is already waiting and be willing to follow it from there.

Even now, when I go back and walk those trails, it feels different.

The first time, it was a sense that something was there. Something I could build around, even if I didn't understand it yet.

Now it's more like recognition. I know what those places became in the story. The Wildwood Trail. The Prescott Mansion. The Gate Lodge.

And there's something a little surreal about that.

It's like seeing the beginning of something and, at the same time, knowing where it eventually leads.

It's not the same feeling as before. But in some ways, it's just as powerful.

—Thomas Rheingans

Novelist & Pianist

Creator of Piano Zen