World Building in Fiction

Any writer who is writing for a world that isn't our current world has to consider how their world functions. Are there aggressive alien species? Is there magic? Who can use it? Who can't? Is there a unique government system, like in The Handmaid's Tale or 1984? Sometimes the differences between our world and the world the writer is creating are slight.

I think of Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451... a speculative, futuristic novel. It's largely our world with the volume turned up on a few things. Bradbury, writing back in the 1950s, predicted a great deal of what we have now: large-screen televisions, earbuds, a dehumanizing relationship to technology, and even Transformers. (yes, there's a scene where Guy Montag is being pursued by police cruisers that leap into the air, turn into helicopters, and then touch down to become cars again!). The biggest change in Bradbury's book from our world is that firemen now burn books (and the homes of the book owners) rather than put out fires.

Whatever your world, you face the challenge of how do you "explain" your world to your reader?
And, first and foremost, how do you explain the world to yourself? Lots of note taking, I'm guessing... working out the kinks. Making sure there's logic to your world. Even the world has to function within its own rules. Frodo can't suddenly sprout wings at the end of Return of the King and fly the ring over Mt. Doom and drop it in. Hobbits don't do that. (Although, a world building problem for me with Tolkien? Why didn't an eagle simply fly Frodo over Mt. Doom and let him drop the ring in?) Those are the kinds of questions that get raised by a world with some holes in it... and, I know it's blasphemy to say, but Tolkien had holes in his world.

Ok, you've worked out all the kinks in your world, and you're ready to set a story in it. What does the reader need to know and how do you get that across? It's a challenge I faced at the beginning of quarantine as I started writing (and finished in five weeks) my most recent novel, Falling Sky. It's set in a future where presumably the only habitable space left on the planet is a huge apartment building. And, because of people on the upper floors continuing to purchase too much (stressing the load-bearing capabilities of the building), there's a very real chance that the building could collapse. My main character, Harvey Crowe--pitted against indifferent tenants, security guards, and a corrupt Board of Directors--works to try to keep the building from collapsing.

Back to the question. How does our reader learn how our world functions?

Prologue? Ok. Maybe. (Honestly, I usually skip the prologue to be honest and then read it when I'm done reading the book). Often "prologue" is just another word for... "here comes some heavy-handed exposition hiding behind the credibility to be found in a fancy word." Another fancy word? Foreword. And, yes, that's how it's spelled. I've seen it as "forward"... in fact, I mistakenly spelled it as "forward" a lifetime ago when I was involved in publishing a literary magazine called The Driftwood Review. Our very first issue, and I spelled it "Forward" (though I tried to explain that I meant it as a metaphor for the magazine's future, which I didn't, but misspellings are embarrassing!) We all know what forward means. Foreword ... well, that means "the first word."

On that note, you have to resist the temptation to have an expository narrator. I know the temptation to include all of those world-building notes you took is real. But you can't. It's boring, and even if it isn't boring, it really slows the pace of your novel. I think Tolkien does a lot of that in his books. It takes a hundred pages for the hobbits in Fellowship of the Ring to get from the Shire to Bree... mainly because Tolkien seemingly offers the history of every tree they pass. (That's why I think the movies are better... I know, I'm an idiot.)

So, okay, I think there are two ways to go with world-building (and actually what we are talking about is "world revealing"). The world building you already did beforehand (though you probably made little discoveries along the way as you wrote too... I know I did with Falling Sky).

So, how do you reveal this world of yours?

Bradbury offers two ways. One, characters can talk about the world (tricky, but more on that soon) or, like a character, you can simply let the world be itself. Remember, just like you enjoyed building your world, the reader enjoys figuring out the world as they read. Just let the world be. Not everything needs explanation. In fact, not explaining things can add a healthy air of mystery (as long as the mystery doesn't leave the reader feeling left out).

In Falling Sky, I never say if the building is the only building left on the planet. I never say how the world outside their windows became uninhabitable (though the gray landscape suggests some kind of climate catastrophe... but it could be asteroid or volcano too.) When Crowe is in an upper-floor apartment, he notices that the woman has sunlight-simulating windows, but he only notices them because it's something he could never afford. Characters can be surprised by their world (and thus comment on it) when the stimuli is new to them ... like sunlight-simulating windows for Crowe.

Imagine setting a story in our world. You would never have a character walk into a movie theater and think, "This is so crazy. We go in here, and these people have made stories using cameras and actors, and then they project them on a screen. What an amazing source of entertainment available to me."

Be careful of having characters surprised by what would ultimately be fairly mundane details about their world to them. I mean, they live in this world. If elves come into town from time-to-time, your character would be no more delighted by that then you walking into a movie theater. You've lived with movie theaters all your life (well, until quarantine). You aren't surprised by that aspect of your world.

So, yes, you can just let your world be your world. Look how in this scene Bradbury handles those "transformers" I mentioned. Earlier in the book, you would have realized that Bradbury refers to police cruisers as "beetles"... presumably because of their color and look. But, here's a scene where Montag is being pursued by the police.

First, awesomely descriptive writing... Bradbury's true gift. But look how he just lets the police vehicles do what they do. Imagine reading this scene in the 1950s... "what? cars turning into helicopters and then back?" Bradbury doesn't explain the technology that allows this, and Montag doesn't comment on it because he's long lived in a world where police vehicles can do this. Bradbury just lets the world exist!

Another way to reveal your world is to let characters talk about it. Again, it has to be genuine. It has to be organic and necessary. Bradbury does it in Fahrenheit 451, and it's done well. Bradbury wants us to know how books came to the point that the government was now burning them-- because it's a comment on us as much as anything. Montag doesn't know the history. He's heard rumors that fireman used to put out fires, but those are dispelled. Much like in 1984, the government controls facts, and their fact (as delivered by Captain Beatty) is that fireman have always burned books.

But, enter Faber. An old, retired English professor that Montag meets. It is Faber who explains to Montag (and thereby the reader) the history behind the fireman and, more importantly, the demonization of books. But, Faber talking about it makes sense. Montag is ignorant and genuinely wants to know. Montag has "awakened" to the deadness and danger of the world and has sought out Faber (someone he once met in a park) for guidance as to how to proceed. It works because the conversation is necessary!

Here's some of Faber... and he's talking as much about the culture of the 1950s as he is some future world.

As you work on writing your fiction in worlds that aren't ours, think about how you're going to reveal your world. Giving Fahrenheit 451 a read is a good starting point. But just try to avoid long passages of exposition and instead let the world reveal itself.

If you find my blog posts instructive, please consider purchasing a copy of my new book of short stories, The Neighborhood Division, as a donated payment for the "class."

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