Writing a story is just like baking a cake. On paper, you get the ingredients, the instructions on how to mix your batter, and the oven time – that comparison applies to your worldbuilding and has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that as I’m writing this, my stomach in growling with anticipation for baked goods. Worldbuilding is but one component of many, such as character building and plot development, but this is an article not a manifesto which means I better get to the point. You can narrow down worldbuilding to four pillars, each equally important. Remember that cake? Every ingredient matters; otherwise all you have is a mash of flour which does little else other than mess up your kitchen.
Species
This should be fairly obvious. A world needs to be populated. How many cool stories happen on Mercury or Mars? None. You wanna know why? Because no one’s home.
People, sentient beings, aliens, talking animals, whatever you can think of. If they think, then they can feel, which means that they have a story to tell, and it’s your job as the author to listen to that story.
Here’s a question: how many people cried when Dobby in the Harry Potter series died? How many people pumped their fists in the air when Darth Maul returned for the Clone Wars TV series? How many people were touched when Eragon and Saphira have one of their touchy-feely moments and encourage each other?
This should tell you just how important it is to have different creatures in your world and have the main cast of characters interact with them. The Fellowship of the Ring is probably the best example of inter-species interaction I can think of. Quite frankly, the banter between the high-strung Legolas and the gruff Gimli is what carries the movie during fillers, which otherwise would be a complete bore. If you want proof of this just watch The Desolation of Smaug; they put elves there just for the sole purpose of having the red-haired elf fall in love with one of the dwarves and eventually save his life. This leads me to my next point: subplots.
One of the best subplots I have ever read was in the Inheritance Cycle when Eragon goes on a rampage and kills the last of the Ra’zac. He didn’t have to, but he did. That subplot led to Saphira questioning him, and some distance grew. It was later resolved and their bond strengthened. If you read the Alex Rider series, every scene Alex has with Jack, his caretaker, is a subplot element. It’s meant to strengthen his character when he goes on missions, sometimes foreshadowing events and a crisis.
Here’s how you know when you’ve written believable species – when people stop distinguishing them as aliens or creatures and anthropomorphise them (make them human).
This applies to subplots. The best subplots are the ones you cannot identify, because they blend so well with the main story that they carry the same energy. It becomes one story.
So when your readers finish your book (and hopefully leave a review), and their friends ask them “What was the book about?” they will answer with, “Oh my god, it had X, and then Y happened, and it was so awesome.”
The rambling is a good thing. When you make your readers speechless, that’s a good day at the office.
Lay of the Land
This also seems quite obvious: does your story take place on a spaceship or a forest? However, most people fail to realize that the setting of a story is synonymous to the ambience of the story. Essentially, I am talking about the feel of the story.
Let me facilitate this with a couple of examples: one look at Rivendell and you immediately know what the elves are all about: magic and old school tradition. It’s in the air, that ethereal feel that transports you to a different dimension.
Han Solo’s Millennium Falcon is a different story. It’s metal, tough and gritty, just like Solo himself. But more than that, the scenes that take place in that setting are gritty and hard, usually involving some hardships (tough decisions or Luke getting zapped as he tries to learn Force Sense).
You can also opt for the urban setting like I did in my Legacy series. It takes place in Eureka, which completely fits the story. There’s a giant forest, there’s a city with some very old and historical parts, and then you have the vast Pacific Ocean. A modern-day setting is perfect for stories. You just have to look deep enough. Don’t look at something with a set mind. Remember to always think outside the box (although this may be facilitated if you have a slightly less intact box).
Magical Mechanics
I’m not going into depth here since I’ve already written a very long (and exhausting) essay about the mechanics of magic in fantasy novels.
The essentials come down to what Brandon Sanderson defines as soft and hard systems of magic. A soft system has no rules and no definition of magic, where anything can happen seemingly at random. Think Gandalf in Lord of the Rings; every spell is different and completely undefined.
The hard system is the complete opposite. Here, rules and parameters are defined, and under no circumstances are you to cross outside that threshold. The prime example would be Harry Potter. Say the exact magic word and something specific happens.
In my essay I discuss my theory for character progression based on these principals. The hard system gives rise to evolution, wherein the character grows within your established system of limits and parameters, and generally, these stories are character driven. If everyone is on a level playing field, than the only way for your character to progress is to give them something that’s so unique that makes them do what they do.
The soft system on the other hand is all about transcendence; your character becomes something else entirely. This can mean literally or metaphysically, such as having them access a higher tier of power. Usually the two go hand in hand. Gandalf changes into Gandalf the White. Kvothe in The Name of the Wind gains access to the purest of magical powers by mastering the Name of the Wind. Erik Ashendale in Firstborn begins to accept his powers and accesses his ability of Life Magic in the form of dark energy and a superhuman form. The main thing is to keep the powers as mysterious as possible without confusing anyone, so as to reflect the mysterious and chaotic nature of the magic itself.
Apart from the soft and hard, you can also find the internal and external. Essentially it’s all about where magic comes from. Is it contained in a magic sword or are people born with it? Does it run in your multiverse or do your ancient gods have their own power source?
History Matters
As much as the present matters (it’s where your story takes place after all, with some exceptions), the past is a reflection of your current being. Our memories and our decision are what shape us and the same applied to your fictional characters as well as your plot.
So instead of just talking about the now, spend some time in your world. Look at the history. Are there any particular wars or conflicts that make you people act the way they do? How was the society formed? If zombies are occupying the world, give us an explanation why. If a cult is controlling the world, what are their beliefs? Where did they originate form? Are there any gods or deities? What do they do?
In short, you have to be that annoying child that constantly asks why, why, and more why. Don’t be satisfied with the answer. Keep digging.
Your world has to be inhabitable, but not by your characters (although that kind of helps). No, the real inhabitants of your world should be the readers. It’s got to be such a good, well-constructed world that even when they close the book and shelf it, they will have dreams of LIVING inside your world.
If your readers blink at your world and forget it, something went wrong. The mark of victory is to have them want to be a part of your world: to run away screaming, to think their lives are going to turn upside down, to feel like them belong in a particular faction and to pump their fists in the air when something works out.
Conclusion
As said before, worldbuilding is like baking a cake. Now, everyone can follow rules and read off of a page, but it takes something inexplicable to make it all work together. That’s the X factor. And that’s what no one can teach you, no matter the internet offers.
Of course, you will make mistakes. Even renowned authors (George R. R. Martin) make mistakes in the form of inconsistencies. But here’s a little secret: no one cares.
Let’s take a look at Star Wars (the original trilogy). The inconsistencies were plenty and special effects were a little cheap. But did we care? Heck, no. The plot was great, the characters greater and we loved it, despite the technical inconsistencies.
Do you think anyone who was lucky enough to watch the first movie in the cinema was going to complain? No.
Instead every nerd in the world (me being one of them) went and bought Star Wars pyjamas and cheap plastic lightsabers to wave around like utter idiots. Han Solo became the definition of ‘badass’ and every guy (and more than a few ladies) had lustful dreams of Carrie Fisher in that bronze bikini.
Worldbuilding alone will not carry your story. It’s just one of the ingredients to make that cake. (You may have noticed by now that I have no idea how to bake anything, but I do have quite a bit of expertise in eating cakes, so I feel it balances out.)
A story is a complete machine; worldbuilding is just one of those components.
Species
This should be fairly obvious. A world needs to be populated. How many cool stories happen on Mercury or Mars? None. You wanna know why? Because no one’s home.
People, sentient beings, aliens, talking animals, whatever you can think of. If they think, then they can feel, which means that they have a story to tell, and it’s your job as the author to listen to that story.
Here’s a question: how many people cried when Dobby in the Harry Potter series died? How many people pumped their fists in the air when Darth Maul returned for the Clone Wars TV series? How many people were touched when Eragon and Saphira have one of their touchy-feely moments and encourage each other?
This should tell you just how important it is to have different creatures in your world and have the main cast of characters interact with them. The Fellowship of the Ring is probably the best example of inter-species interaction I can think of. Quite frankly, the banter between the high-strung Legolas and the gruff Gimli is what carries the movie during fillers, which otherwise would be a complete bore. If you want proof of this just watch The Desolation of Smaug; they put elves there just for the sole purpose of having the red-haired elf fall in love with one of the dwarves and eventually save his life. This leads me to my next point: subplots.
One of the best subplots I have ever read was in the Inheritance Cycle when Eragon goes on a rampage and kills the last of the Ra’zac. He didn’t have to, but he did. That subplot led to Saphira questioning him, and some distance grew. It was later resolved and their bond strengthened. If you read the Alex Rider series, every scene Alex has with Jack, his caretaker, is a subplot element. It’s meant to strengthen his character when he goes on missions, sometimes foreshadowing events and a crisis.
Here’s how you know when you’ve written believable species – when people stop distinguishing them as aliens or creatures and anthropomorphise them (make them human).
This applies to subplots. The best subplots are the ones you cannot identify, because they blend so well with the main story that they carry the same energy. It becomes one story.
So when your readers finish your book (and hopefully leave a review), and their friends ask them “What was the book about?” they will answer with, “Oh my god, it had X, and then Y happened, and it was so awesome.”
The rambling is a good thing. When you make your readers speechless, that’s a good day at the office.
Lay of the Land
This also seems quite obvious: does your story take place on a spaceship or a forest? However, most people fail to realize that the setting of a story is synonymous to the ambience of the story. Essentially, I am talking about the feel of the story.
Let me facilitate this with a couple of examples: one look at Rivendell and you immediately know what the elves are all about: magic and old school tradition. It’s in the air, that ethereal feel that transports you to a different dimension.
Han Solo’s Millennium Falcon is a different story. It’s metal, tough and gritty, just like Solo himself. But more than that, the scenes that take place in that setting are gritty and hard, usually involving some hardships (tough decisions or Luke getting zapped as he tries to learn Force Sense).
You can also opt for the urban setting like I did in my Legacy series. It takes place in Eureka, which completely fits the story. There’s a giant forest, there’s a city with some very old and historical parts, and then you have the vast Pacific Ocean. A modern-day setting is perfect for stories. You just have to look deep enough. Don’t look at something with a set mind. Remember to always think outside the box (although this may be facilitated if you have a slightly less intact box).
Magical Mechanics
I’m not going into depth here since I’ve already written a very long (and exhausting) essay about the mechanics of magic in fantasy novels.
The essentials come down to what Brandon Sanderson defines as soft and hard systems of magic. A soft system has no rules and no definition of magic, where anything can happen seemingly at random. Think Gandalf in Lord of the Rings; every spell is different and completely undefined.
The hard system is the complete opposite. Here, rules and parameters are defined, and under no circumstances are you to cross outside that threshold. The prime example would be Harry Potter. Say the exact magic word and something specific happens.
In my essay I discuss my theory for character progression based on these principals. The hard system gives rise to evolution, wherein the character grows within your established system of limits and parameters, and generally, these stories are character driven. If everyone is on a level playing field, than the only way for your character to progress is to give them something that’s so unique that makes them do what they do.
The soft system on the other hand is all about transcendence; your character becomes something else entirely. This can mean literally or metaphysically, such as having them access a higher tier of power. Usually the two go hand in hand. Gandalf changes into Gandalf the White. Kvothe in The Name of the Wind gains access to the purest of magical powers by mastering the Name of the Wind. Erik Ashendale in Firstborn begins to accept his powers and accesses his ability of Life Magic in the form of dark energy and a superhuman form. The main thing is to keep the powers as mysterious as possible without confusing anyone, so as to reflect the mysterious and chaotic nature of the magic itself.
Apart from the soft and hard, you can also find the internal and external. Essentially it’s all about where magic comes from. Is it contained in a magic sword or are people born with it? Does it run in your multiverse or do your ancient gods have their own power source?
History Matters
As much as the present matters (it’s where your story takes place after all, with some exceptions), the past is a reflection of your current being. Our memories and our decision are what shape us and the same applied to your fictional characters as well as your plot.
So instead of just talking about the now, spend some time in your world. Look at the history. Are there any particular wars or conflicts that make you people act the way they do? How was the society formed? If zombies are occupying the world, give us an explanation why. If a cult is controlling the world, what are their beliefs? Where did they originate form? Are there any gods or deities? What do they do?
In short, you have to be that annoying child that constantly asks why, why, and more why. Don’t be satisfied with the answer. Keep digging.
Your world has to be inhabitable, but not by your characters (although that kind of helps). No, the real inhabitants of your world should be the readers. It’s got to be such a good, well-constructed world that even when they close the book and shelf it, they will have dreams of LIVING inside your world.
If your readers blink at your world and forget it, something went wrong. The mark of victory is to have them want to be a part of your world: to run away screaming, to think their lives are going to turn upside down, to feel like them belong in a particular faction and to pump their fists in the air when something works out.
Conclusion
As said before, worldbuilding is like baking a cake. Now, everyone can follow rules and read off of a page, but it takes something inexplicable to make it all work together. That’s the X factor. And that’s what no one can teach you, no matter the internet offers.
Of course, you will make mistakes. Even renowned authors (George R. R. Martin) make mistakes in the form of inconsistencies. But here’s a little secret: no one cares.
Let’s take a look at Star Wars (the original trilogy). The inconsistencies were plenty and special effects were a little cheap. But did we care? Heck, no. The plot was great, the characters greater and we loved it, despite the technical inconsistencies.
Do you think anyone who was lucky enough to watch the first movie in the cinema was going to complain? No.
Instead every nerd in the world (me being one of them) went and bought Star Wars pyjamas and cheap plastic lightsabers to wave around like utter idiots. Han Solo became the definition of ‘badass’ and every guy (and more than a few ladies) had lustful dreams of Carrie Fisher in that bronze bikini.
Worldbuilding alone will not carry your story. It’s just one of the ingredients to make that cake. (You may have noticed by now that I have no idea how to bake anything, but I do have quite a bit of expertise in eating cakes, so I feel it balances out.)
A story is a complete machine; worldbuilding is just one of those components.