world-building

Being a Benevolent World-Builder

There are a lot of amazing things about being a novelist—things that make the tough parts worth it. The joy of bringing characters to life, torturing them because we can … in worlds we create.

Talk about power.

Sometimes, though, we get carried away with that power. We name and define enough flora and fauna to cover the planet twice over. We develop a 700-year history of the monarchy. We formulate scientific theories to support complex technology that all runs on algae.

That’s great. Fill reams of paper or gigabytes on your hard drive with every nuanced detail. Go for it.

The problem comes if we throw it at the reader … all of it.

Don’t get me wrong. I love a fully realized world. And I hate one that doesn’t have enough detail, lacks internal consistency, and just doesn’t feel real. But having that fleshed-out world as a foundation doesn’t mean we have to spell it all out within the manuscript. If we do all the hard labor of working it out behind the scenes, it can seep naturally into the story.

Some details do deserve to make the page and add to the narrative. Personally, there are a couple of situations where I feel it’s worth the word count to detail things in.

It’s News to Me. This is pretty typical in speculative fiction genres. The protagonist enters a new country/society/galaxy/dimension. Everything will be new, so some detailing is only natural. In these situations, I always ask myself what my MC would notice first, and what would get glossed over until they’re in deeper.

It’s a Matter of Life or Death. Okay, maybe not that extreme. But I’m talking about aspects of world-building that are pertinent—even critical—in that particular moment. Make sure the diversion into explanation or description is properly motivated.

I’m Right and You’re Wrong. This can be a fun one. Character #1 says, “Let’s do ____ to accomplish this goal.” Character #2 says, “You’re a moron, that’ll never work!” #1: “Yes it will. If we ____, ____, and ____, then ____ will happen.” #2: “No way. Nuh-uh. The ______ of the ____ will never ____ _____ _____ ….” And so on. Hopefully done more artfully than that, but you get the idea. When there are legitimate differing views on how something in the world operates, that can be a decent time to work in some specifics.

I’m sure there are other situations and a variety of factors that can play into how much is too much and what approach is best. Some genres expect world-building to be handled a particular way. Some readers can drink in pages of geography and political history, while others will skim (if they don’t just give up on the book altogether).

And who says it’s just the sci-fi/fantasy spectrum that world-builds? Historical fiction may call on a setting we have some passing familiarity with, but it has to make it real just the same. Just about any novel has to establish at least a microcosm of a fictional world.

For myself, the sign of great world-building is when I don’t notice it happening. Whether through description, dialogue, or more subtle means, I experience it and live in the world.

Do you have pet-peeves when it comes to world-building? Tips for pulling it off smoothly? I’d love to hear them.

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We’re, Like, Y’know, in the FUTURE!

Today’s post is kind of an extension of last week’s Putting the Sci in Sci-Fi. But first, some lead-in.

Those of you who are on Twitter may know that @AngelaJames (executive editor at Carina Press) occasionally does an #EditReport session where she shares quotes from her editors on why manuscripts were rejected, then concludes with quotes on acceptances. In a recent session, the following tweet popped up:

“Characters read more like contemporary characters dropped in an historical world rather than being authentically historical.” #editreport
— Angela James (@angelajames) June 25, 2012

I’ve noticed the same problem occasionally in science fiction, most particularly in YA. The characters are a little too much like teenagers of today plunked down in some futuristic setting. When that happens, it doesn’t matter how much awesome world-building you’ve done. Your characters reveal it all to be cardboard backdrops on a junior high stage.

Would characters in your story still wear jeans? I mean, jeans have been around a while, so maybe, especially if it’s near-future. But maybe not. Would they still say “cool” or “awesome” or “creeper” or “legit”?

It’s a dilemma, though. Especially that bit about the language. Any type of current slang in a definitely-not-current setting will knock me right out of the story. On the other hand, I know invented slang is tricky, often making readers feel like these out-of-the-blue words are being shoved down their throats.

Remember the bit in Mean Girls where poor Gretchen tries to force her own slang upon the world?

(where I got this)

Sometimes when reading, I feel like giving the characters and/or author the same response Queen-Bee Regina finally gave:

With my own efforts at invented slang, I’ve tried to make it as organic as possible. Often what I do is take something current and twist it a bit. So far, it’s gotten good reactions from people who are ordinarily pretty picky about such things.

We don’t know what the future will be like. We don’t know what teenagers then will be like. That’s part of the fun of writing science fiction. At the same time, we want these characters to have a core that our modern-day readers can relate to. So it’s yet another balancing act for us to manage.

Do you have any tricks for making futuristic teens futuristic enough without losing their common thread with teen readers? Any pet peeves about too-contemporary elements showing up in a far-removed time period?

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Putting the Sci in Sci-Fi

I’ve written before about world-building, focusing on the art of weaving it into the body of our stories. It’s a necessary part of pretty much any genre of fiction to one degree or another, but particularly in speculative and historical fiction. Right now, I’m going to focus on a different aspect of world-building, specifically in science fiction.

Forget working in the details. I want to talk about whether the details work.

It’s science fiction, right? Fiction, as in made up. Yeah, but you also have the ‘science’ part. You want things to be a little out there, imaginative, something the reader hasn’t thought of before, but now that you suggested it, “Yes, that’s so awesome!” At the same time, you don’t want it to enter the realm of, “But that’s totally impossible!”

Finding the balance between scientific feasibility and creative license isn’t easy. I don’t think I know any writers who don’t dive in and do some research when they find they need to. There are natural limitations. (For example, check out the letter Star Trek creator Gene Roddenberry sent Isaac Asimov in response to the latter’s criticism of the television series.)

However, I’ve come across instances where I feel like authors didn’t realize they needed to do a little research. Maybe they lacked the background knowledge. Maybe they just didn’t think it through from the angle I naturally look from. Maybe they put more emphasis on what worked for their plot than what actually works from a logical world-building perspective.

Maybe I’m just a science snob.

To be honest, I see this particularly in YA sci-fi. Not saying it’s true of all (not remotely!) or most. I hope it’s not even true of many. But it’s certainly true of some. Some who call themselves geeks, love sci-fi as a consumer, but don’t get the whole left-side-of-the-brain engagement going in their writing.

I’m not saying all sci-fi has to be hard sci-fi. We don’t need pages of techno-babble backing up the scientific elements of the story. But here are some (very general) scientifically minded questions I try to consider in my world-building details:

• What progression led to the present level of technology in the world? Is it ascending (advancing technology) or descending (lost knowledge due to some event in the past)?

 

• What limitations are there, preventing all tasks from being dirt simple? If technology makes some things super-simple, but others still require effort, does that distinction make sense?

• If my setting is Earth, but X years in the future, how do elements of our current world influence my story? How have elements of our present degraded over time? (Never forget entropy.)

And here’s a biggie:

• What laws of physics (as currently understood) am I going to try to break, bend, or circumvent? How can I justify it? (The justification can be highly fictional, but must be consistent within itself.)

Any other sci-fi buffs out there? Are there ways you see the “sci” in sci-fi getting glossed over too much (in YA or otherwise)? What strategies do you have for keeping your imagination within some confines of scientific consistency? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

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How Does Your World Measure Up?

World-building is a key component of writing fiction, particularly in the genres of sci-fi and fantasy. That means you have to have culture, history, and everything else that comes with a real world underlying your story.

Including … measurement units?

Maybe not. Maybe your world is built enough off of ours that it makes sense to stick with the usual feet and inches, pounds and ounces. Or if your world is in a future where scientific reasonableness is king, so you’re all metric.

But what if that won’t work for your world?

My first novel was largely in an alternate dimension with some shared history, but mostly a huge divergence. And a very science-oriented society. In a particular situation, I needed to make a reference to a measurement of volts.

Volts were named for Alessandro Volta. A dude who didn’t exist in that dimension.

First thought: Oh, crap.

Second thought: Okay, what made-up units would make sense in this word I’ve created?

I considered how the society was fairly practical and straightforward in other naming practices, and I thought about what voltage means. In the end, I came up with a fake unit that seemed to fit both needs.

Have you ever thought about how many units are named after a person? Fahrenheit and Celsius for temperature. Volts, amperes, coulombs, and ohms for various aspects of electricity and charge. Newtons for force, pascals for pressure.

If you don’t need to worry about these things in your stories, you’re a lucky one. For the rest of us, make sure you think about a natural way for units to evolve in your world.

Have you invented units/measurements for one or more of your stories? How did you go about it?

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