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Erin (E.A.) Whyte

Weaving in world building

One of the hardest parts about being a writer is having all of these pieces of your world that you want to share, but that just aren't necessary to propel the story forward. We want our readers to be able to place themselves in what we've created without feeling bogged down by extra information.


Balance is a struggle.


For myself, I find it easier to build the details as I go. This helps me identify what pieces are necessary to enhance the reader's journey and which ones aren't.


Before I start writing, I have a general idea of the world. And it's usually built around my main character. When I know who they are and what they want, the world tends to snap in place around them.


Where did they grow up? How old are they? What was life like? How does their want influence their surroundings? What about the setting could create an added challenge for the MC to overcome?


These basic answers paint a vague image. It brings to mind other pieces of backstory like secondary characters, family, perspective, and so on. From there, I dig deeper.


What does it smell like? Taste like? Are there areas to avoid?


Senses are one of the most immersive techniques writers can use to place a reader in the world. But the thing is, we don't want to overwhelm them. Worldbuilding is only present to support and serve the story. Too many senses or ideas all at once can fog the image. Like breath on a window if you lean in too close.


So use the senses, especially lesser-used ones like taste and smell, but use them sparingly. These little details peppered throughout a story will help it to feel lived in. If the character goes to a tavern, does it smell like piss and ale? Is it sterile and filled with lavender?


Which leads us to another point: the characters experience the world. World building is shown to the reader through the characters. So if the character is not experiencing something, or wouldn't know a fact like "The king is building an army to overthrow a neighbouring kingdom," neither does the reader.


It also means that we get these senses the moment the character steps into a new setting. The easiest time to paint a picture is when it's fresh. We expect a small description of an area when the character walks into a new room, or a new person steps into the scene. These places lend themselves to world building elements by noting the interaction with surroundings. But only a note or two. Not three paragraphs of exposition.


It's a much more convincing (see last week's article about showing vs. telling) story to be shown the world in which our characters live as opposed to being told--or sometimes info dumped. You might have thousands of years of history, but we're living with your characters where they are right now. In fact, it's highly unlikely that the characters would even know that much history.


Take our own world, as an example. How many people do you know that can recite the entire history of earth working backwards from today? Not just the pieces from their own country, but also all the others? Probably none, right?


It's the same with our characters. They each have their own stories and histories, and, frequently, members of differing tribes/countries/cities will even have different understandings of how the world came to be, different religious practices, different ruling classes, etc.


All this sounds really great in theory, but what does it look like?


Example:


The Twigins and the Fleebs hated each other since the beginning of time, since the Great Lake formed and both claimed possession. Any time the tribes came within a field's distance, there was trouble. Which was particularly difficult to manage because both tribes needed to visit the Great Lake daily for clean water. Today, it was Tommy's turn, and as he headed out with his family in tow, water carts dragged behind oxen piled with weapons, he couldn't help but wonder at what the outcome might be.


I've just told you important world building information. There are two tribes in conflict and they have been for years over a lake they both need. But there was no feeling, no senses, nothing to draw you into the world and make you want to stay there. We know nothing about Tommy--aside from the fact that he has a family and that he has a turn to go to the lake.


Of the facts presented, only a few are vital to this particular story. And almost all of it can be shown instead of told.


What's important:

  • There are two conflicting tribes

  • These tribes are fighting over a lake they both need

  • Tommy is going to the lake today with his family

Example:


The reins for the water cart cut into Tommy's hands as it teetered over the dirt packed road. His younger sister chatted contentedly beside him about anything and everything: the weather, her new friend, the boy that kept stealing her flowers. He cast a worried gaze toward her.


Tommy took a deep breath, the scent of spring blossoms stuffing itself up his nostrils. His stomach churned at the freshness that coated the earth--too bright for the coming catastrophe.


The sword at his hip grew heavier the closer they came to the Great Lake. His father's scarred head was just visible from the cart in front, shoulders creeping up to his ears, and Tommy wondered how many times in his life he had had to do this. If he could even count them.


After a moment that felt both too long and too short, the Great Lake sparkled in the morning sunlight. His sister stopped her chattering then, awed by the view. But what caught Tommy's attention was the people on the opposite bank.


"The Fleebs," his father growled as he pulled around beside Tommy's cart. He looked to his son, gripping him behind the neck. "Don't be afraid, boy. This is our lake. This is our land. We're proud Twigins, and we'll show them what happens when they try to steal our water."


His father gripped the reins once more, spinning the cart back in front. Tommy's hand dropped to his sword automatically and he pulled his sister closer, her own dagger slipping into her palm.


"You stay close to me. If things get rough, run. Run for the woods as fast as you can," Tommy whispered through clenched teeth.


"But--"


"Not this time Rosa. Please, just do as I say."


His sister pouted but gave a sharp nod. Her eyes strayed to the Fleebs as they curled around the bank of the lake toward them, their own weapons at the ready. She tilted her chin up, but it didn't stop her trembling under Tommy's arm.


Does the second one make you want to keep reading? Does it hold your attention and make you ask questions?


It's okay if the answer is no. Everyone has different tastes and preferences. But the fact is that there is always more book to add in world building at comfortable times. Sometimes we like to throw everything in at once, but then the facts gets lost or muddled. Or the pace is slowed dramatically.


When reading back your own writing, you can test for these places by asking yourself where the story lags. Where are you less convinced of the reality of your world? In those places, it might be worth taking a look at your character and what they can sense in that moment. It will also be helpful to take a look at what is strictly necessary for the reader to know at each part of the story. Can things be teased out later? How much of the story are you trying to tell with exposition instead of letting the events unfold?


Less really is more when adding in these details. A simple sentence or descriptive phrase weaved into a paragraph will do more for grounding than a whole page of explanation.


Have questions? Feel free to shoot me a message through my contact form.


Otherwise, happy writing,

Erin

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