Why There Are No Shortcuts in World-building

Every writer has certain parts of the writing process that fill them with joy, along with others that fill them with dread. Naturally, those preferences vary for each of us. Some writers adore character development, while others despise it. Some loathe plotting, while for others, it's the first thing they want to do when they get up in the morning.

I'm a storyteller, so for me, pounding out the first draft is a natural high. The type of scene doesn't matter; just cut me loose and let me write it. Whether it's a heart-pounding action scene or a tender moment of romance that takes your breath away, I feel right at home. When it comes time to do world-building, however, I freeze up like I've got icicles for legs.

At no point was this weakness more obvious than it was this past weekend at my critique group meeting. I brought some sample pages from a young adult fantasy novel I've been working on, eager for feedback. I'd brought the pages in before, gotten them critiqued and made adjustments based on the notes I was given, and I was optimistic that my changes had greatly improved the story.

I waited with bated breath as my critique partners carefully review the revised pages, trying not to read over their shoulders as they took meticulous notes. Finally, they put down their pens and said the last words I'd wanted to hear:

"The overall writing is solid, but your world still doesn't feel real to me."

Argh. Cue the wailing and gnashing of teeth here.

I know what you're thinking: "But you like fantasy---fairies, elves, unicorns, dwarves and the like. Shouldn't creating races, maps and languages be your idea of a good time?" And my response is, you must be thinking of Tolkien. I skipped all those long descriptions of setting and elf songs in Lord of the Rings. Gimme sword fights and a good makeout scene over that stuff any day.

Here's the problem, though. Have you ever had a moment when you're neck-deep in a great story  and you suddenly find yourself wondering, "Yes, but why did those people mutate twenty years ago? And why didn't they all mutate? And why do they keep fighting over that territory?" Moments like that are distracting and pull your readers out of the story; if they happen often enough, people stop reading altogether. If the world you've created doesn't make sense to your readers, they can't fully connect with the story you're telling---no matter how good it is.


Oh, and if you think this is all just for fantasy/sci-fi writers and our races of green people who speak Icktock and live on Mars, you're mistaken. World-building is just as important whether you're writing a Western, a contemporary romance or an updated fairy tale. It's not enough to know the names and occupations of your characters. You need to know about the town he grew up in, how big her high school was and whether his third-grade teachers was mean or not. These details may seem insignificant to you, but often they are the difference between characters who lie flat on the page, and ones who live, breathe and touch your readers' hearts. They can turn a good story into a great one, and isn't that what all writers want?

So. If you'll excuse me, I have to go draw some maps now.

What about you? What steps do you take to make the worlds in your stories feel more real to your readers?

Embrace Your Inner Window Washer

Editor Morgan Mandel over at the Blood-Red Pencil wrote a fabulous post today comparing writers to window washers. My first thought when I saw the title was, "Huh?" But once I read the whole thing, I recognized the brilliance in the metaphor.

I'm a little embarrassed to admit that I'm definitely a "Category 1" window washer, although I'm trying to become a "Category 2." There are some days when my Inner Editor is so loud in my head that it's almost impossible for me to write, and there are other days when I lean more toward the Category 2 side, relaxed and in-the-moment and writing at a furious pace. Those are the moments I love, when the writing flows like clockwork, no holds barred. I'm working toward having more of those moments.

As I was writing this post, it occurred to me that the window washer metaphor doesn't just apply to writers. In fact, I'm convinced that just about anyone's approach to life itself can be defined by what type of window washer they are. I've broken down the list as follows:

Category 1 - People who diligently wash their windows. These are your "Type A" personalities-- they are often engineers, attorneys, brain surgeons, etc.; people for whom intensity, ambition and laser-sharp focus are practically job requirements. They spend their days finding flaws and correcting them (arguably, most agents, editors and publishers could fall into this category). Many of them are perfectionists.

(My father is a Category 1; so is my sister. It runs in the family. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.)

Category 2 - People who "plough ahead" and get the job done. These are the "Type B" personalities, people who tend to be more laid-back and easygoing. They don't get hung up on every little detail; they can handle it if the end result isn't perfect. They get things done, even if it's less than stellar, and they move on to the next project.

(My husband is this way, and thank God for it! He's probably the reason I don't have OCD.)

Category 3 - People who hire others to wash their windows. These, I believe, are the natural leaders of the world, the people who go on to become CEO's of Fortune 500 companies. They make sure the work gets done, but they don't do it themselves. Instead, they keep everyone organized and motivated so it gets done as efficiently as possible.

I'd like to add to this list a fourth category--the people who expect their windows to wash themselves. There are a lot of these, and if you're like me, you know more of them than you care to admit. Not to be confused with people who try and fail but keep trying anyway; no, they're the dreamers who never get off their butts in the first place. They're the ones who always say, "I'd like to write a novel one day," but they never write one word.

They don't go out and make life happen; they just expect it to fall from the sky.

So, what about you? What type of window washer are YOU? What kind do you WANT to be?