Worldbuilding Wonders: Getting Familiar with Some Basics

Fun for some, difficult for others. To those who struggle, fret not. While there are endless subtopics we could discuss within the topic of worldbuilding, let us start out with, well, as the title states, the basics.

Plant the Seed, Branch Out

Here’s a snippet of an idea: an astronaut. Not much on its own, sure, but we can use that small detail as the foundation for the rest of the world.

What kind of astronaut? What’s the reason for them being in space? Let’s say planet mining.

All right.

What are they mining for? Minerals. What kind? What makes these minerals so special? A kind not of Earth, and they have regenerative properties.

Better, but still not a whole in the way of the world or planet itself.

How about the planet is actually the body of an ancient god? Who hibernates as a way to recover from the astronaut’s company continuously draining his life force?

We could dig deeper (pun intended) depending on if the story requires more depth, such as explaining character motivations. Perhaps the god is as old as the universe itself. Perhaps it has known nothing but its own existence and seeks connection, even at the expense of its own life. Perhaps the astronaut relates to its loneliness and wants to help.

This seems like a balanced chunk of worldbuilding to get started with.

As Much as the Current Story Needs

My advice remains the same, whether coming from an author or editor perspective, and that’s having as much worldbuilding as your current story needs.

Exploring your new world can be one of the most exciting stages of writing. Mapping out realms, crafting magic systems, creating a fleet of war spaceships, imagining a species of creatures based on the elements—kind of addicting, right?

If creating an encyclopaedia of knowledge grounds you further into the story, the plot, the characters, then, by all means, keep playing in that sandbox.

But be mindful about how much you actually carry over. Too much, and you risk the dreaded info-dump; too little, and things might feel a little bare.

Continuing the seed above, there are some elements that might not add anything relevant to the story. Like the astronaut uses holograms for communications with the company, but we don’t need to know how or when that piece of technology came about. The astronaut is only of the many mining ships sent out to different systems, but unless knowing the details expands on the story, best to leave them excluded.

You could always use those extra ideas for sequels or other stories within a shared universe, or a whole entire story altogether. Nothing need be wasted.

On the other end of the scale, say, we stop development at the minerals having regenerative properties, the story might be seen as a little underdeveloped, which could possibly feed into the rest of the story elements.

Spread It Out like Butter

In a similar vein of too much worldbuilding, dropping what you have all at once shares that risk of dumpage.

You don’t want to drop everything in the first few pages; you want the worldbuilding to unravel organically throughout the narrative.

The astronaut arrives on the planet. They begin the digging process, a job like any other. A few days later, they cut themselves, and, hey, that cut miraculously heals when touching the soil. The company wasn’t lying about that.

Depending on the length of your story, this could be written as a few scenes or chapters, executed through a combination of scene and dialogue.

The same could be said for revealing your worldbuilding too slowly. Providing little to no morsels, which, unless done well, could leave the readers frustrated. (The astronaut has been digging for half the story, and nothing else has happened, for example.)

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Patience? What’s That?

My own process seems to have not fully grasped the definition of the word yet, but it is admittedly (and bitterly) true.

As with all aspects of creativity, these things take practice, and practice requires patience. You will not master worldbuilding overnight (or even at all; there’s no such thing as mastery in the writing world) but you will continuously improve the more you do it, the more you mould your worlds, the more you stretch your imagination.

It has taken me twelve years of writing officially (unless you count preteen me manifesting the next amazing vampire trilogy, then make that seventeen years) to reach a point where that phase of the process comes easier.

Having said all that, the most important thing to have, above all else? Fun. No fun, no story. Simple as that.