Writing

Worldbuilding: The Ecstasy, The Agony, The Stupidity

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(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com and Steve’s Tumblr.  Find out more at my newsletter.)

I love worldbuilding, and yet I meet people who hate doing, even resent it. That’s because we forget what worldbuilding is for – our audience and their experiences.

Let me note upfront my obvious biases about worldbuilding, from stories to games. I love doing it, and have for years. I love looking at other worlds people created. I believe there’s psychological value in it. I also have and am writing a ton of books on the subject.

But other people I’ve met resent it. I’ve found they fit into a few categories.

  1. “I want to get to my story” – People don’t want to figure out the exact value of the Frbillian gold ducat of Slenderhome. They have an epic drama to write and none of their characters give a damn.
  2. “I don’t want to get lost” – You can easily got lost in worldbuilding, something I do joyously. You may be good at it and like it a bit too much if you get my drift.
  3. “I’m doing this for my audience” – You’re worldbuilding for the sake of the audience first, not to deliver something, but based on the assumption they expect “X” amount of worldbuilding or hate Y or something. Worldbuilding is part of a larger product.
  4. “I want to be like this person” – Which 90% of the time seems to mean JRR Tolkein. We’re busy trying to emulate other worldbuilders as opposed to asking what we need to do and want to do.

I’m sure some of these apply to you as a whole or in part. Worldbuilding can get onerous – even for someone like myself who loves it. I’ve experienced all of them.

Now how do we address them? Much to the surprise of absolutely no one, I’d like to discuss Agile Methodology. No, stay, this won’t take long.

Anyway, a big thing about Agile is focusing on value of something. You have an audience. They need something, and you figure it out and how to deliver it. Worldbuilding is the same way.

Your audience wants a story or a game – so Worldbuild enough to get the story or the game done.

You need a certain among of worldbuilding – Use this precision to avoid getting lost. Feel free to enjoy it, since you are also part of the audience, but also know when to stop.

Know your audience – Ask who your target audience is and deliver enough worldbuilding for them. If you find yourself with a huge list of different target audiences then you don’t have one in mind. You’ll get lost.

Worldbuilding is about delivering value, and knowing enough to deliver a game or a story or whatever. Keep yourself focused by asking how it serves your larger goal. Even if your goal is a world guide for an RPG, you have to ask what delivers value.

Let me close out with a suggestion if worldbuilding troubles you: Write down your target audience and sort them into no more than three categories. Next, ask yourself what these audiences want and list the top three things. This will give you a guide to how much to do – and not do – and make you think about your audience.

If you can’t answer those questions easily, then you’ve learned even more . . 

Steven Savage

Just Write Something

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(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com and Steve’s Tumblr.  Find out more at my newsletter.)

As I work on A School of Many Futures, the sequel to A Bridge To The Quiet Planet, I end up on a mental rollercoaster. I’ve found a way to deal with that.

I’m sure you’ve had ups and downs in your writing – for me, having done nonfiction for so long, writing fiction is trying. Sure I got one novel out after not doing much fiction for awhile, but it took a lot to get back into it. The second novel produces it’s own challenges, from plotting to questions, and though it’s easier than the first book, I have my moments.

Do I do this twist? Should I do something else? Maybe a short story to jumpstart me?

The worst part of writing fiction is you wonder. You can speculate endlessly on what you should do and where you’re going. You’re creative, and you can use your creativity to worry at an amazing rate.

Several of my friends made the same point to me – when in doubt, just write.

If you write, then you get something done.

You have something to use in your story. It may be good enough.

You have something to edit. Sure it’s bad, but at least it can be fixed.

You can try out an idea and see if it works. If it fails, then at least you know (and you can put it in file to save it for later).

If you write, then you don’t worry about being blocked – you keep moving, even if it’s imperfect.

You get your mind moving, so even if what you made is unusable, uneditable, and unsavable, then your brain is in writing mode.

One friend of mine noted that when drafting, they will make it scriptlike and edit it later. You don’t even have to write things in full, just write enough to have something.

This has helped me get over some blockages the last week. I’m writing, even if it’s not perfect or needs editing. I’m thinking and revising my work, improving it over time and seeing it in new lights. Most of all I’m not stagnant, so I’m moving forward no matter what.

Sure there’s challenges – but something is getting done, and each time I’m one step closer to a book.

The only book that fails is the one never written. So next time you’re not sure what to do, write. That’s one thing that can guarantee a book or story or post is done.

Just write something.

Steven Savage

Fiction Is More Stressful Than Nonfiction

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(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com and Steve’s Tumblr.  Find out more at my newsletter.)

As I return to fiction writing with my next novel in the Avenoth series, A School of Many Futures, I find it more stressful than writing non-fiction. I write a lot of nonfiction, and it’s relatively low-stress, yet fiction . . .

My experience with fiction writers reveals this isn’t universal – some are quite relaxed about making it, others knotted with anxiety. So I wondered, why is it more stressful for me – if I understand that, perhaps it’ll help others.

It didn’t take long for me to find out.

Nonfiction writing is . . .

Useful: It takes effort or vast ignorance to make a nonfiction piece truly useless. Oh, it’s possible, but a sincere effort will create something of value. Even if its from a limited viewpoint, at least that nonfiction piece matters to a slim slice of humanity.

Grounded: Nonfiction is grounded in the real world (or our idea of it). Research is available, data is available, previous examples are available. As I heard it once put “nonfiction all shares the same universe.” Research and reference and editing is much easier.

Organizeable: Most nonfiction work lends itself to patterns, outlines, and so on. This is because it is grounded in reality (we can refer to the structure of that reality) but also humans have been busy organizing reality for aeons. There’s plenty of reference. In fact . ..

Relateable: Because we humans share enough similar experiences, good nonfiction work can connect with readers easily.

Marketable: Let’s be honest, when you write nonfiction you sort of know the target audience. If you’re a specialist, even moreso. Sure, your coffee table book “Toilets of America in the 1800’s” may seem narrow, but at least you know your exact audience. Besides, you tell me that wouldn’t be an amazing gift for a plumbing professional or historical writer.

Now with this said, let’s look at fiction, using the above as a template. What makes fiction so stressful?

Unknown Value: Fiction is not real. We don’t know it’s value because of the diversity and unpredictability of people. Is this story going to deliver what people want or flop?

Ungrounded: Fiction isn’t grounded in reality. Even “modern day” fiction can be complicated by the fact we’re making things up in the real world, making it more stressful. I think this is why good fiction writers find hooks.

Hard To Organize: We’re making up something that never happened. How do we organize the unreal?

Potentially Distant: We’ve got to have people “get into” the fiction. But can we create a gateway for them to connect to our work when there may be no solid common ground.

Unsure Market: With so much fiction, with so many ways our stories can go, is there a market for our work? We don’t know. I know fiction writers who obsessively research, but that has to be exhausting.

In summary, nonfiction is something that is likely valuable and grounded in shareable experience, whereas fiction is unpredictable and connected in strange ways. In this, we can see how people managed to make fiction less stressful – they make it more (but not totally) like nonfiction. I can see this in my own writing.

This gives me a few ideas of how to deal with stressful fiction writing.

Value your work: Know why you do your work, what matters, and who it’s for. “It’s fun” is 100% fine.

Ground your fiction: Make sure your fiction is grounded in something, from solid worldbuilding to hard emotional truths. That makes it real, connectable, and removes anxiety – while inspiring you.

Organize: Plotting, pantsing, outlining, iterative improvement – there’s many methods to organize fiction writing. With that organization you have that confidence in what you’re doing, that sense of re laity. Note your method may be “whatever with plenty of iterative improvement” and that’s fine.

Connectable: Make sure people can connect to your work via emotional relevance, good descriptions, etc. When it’s connectable people care – and you get that sense of connection.

Market Decisions: Address marketing concerns head-on. Do you care? Do you want to sell a lot of books? Maybe you do intense research, maybe you just do your thing. Do it and go on.

I’m not saying make your nonfiction like your fiction. That’s ridiculous. What I am saying is take lessons from nonfiction, from organization to sense-of-reality, and apply it to fiction. If you can make a book of spacefaring dragons or cyborg superspies something a person “gets” as sure as a mouth-watering recipe, then you’ve done your job.

After all, be it real or imaginary, the goal is to have people get into and experience your work, be it fact or fantasy.

Steven Savage