Graced by warmer weather, I recently visited wisteria tunnel, lucky to catch it in full bloom. Eye-catching from a distance, intriguing up close, with a heady floral aroma that brings a hazy shift in time, fluctuating shades of purple that are mesmerising to the eye, and criss-crossing, weaving, winding branches with pathways to everywhere and nowhere… Combined with the surrounding parkland flora and fauna, and the human traffic strolling by with all of what we carry, and it’s a complex, layered scene. It’s an analogy I recently thought of, akin to storytelling.
Talk of worldbuilding to a SFF writer is like bread and butter. I deal in worlds, and within those worlds, different lives, perspectives, roads travelled, survival and future aspirations. There may be a thread I’m primed to process, a theme that motivates, but ultimately it starts with a world I’m keen to explore. Plots, characters, themes are common to all stories, but imaginative worlds are the reason we return. Once we have an idea of the world, we can build in elements of friction, stumbling blocks to weave stories around.
But first comes the world, underpinned by layers to forge a social, political, cultural identity. The identity of the aforementioned wisteria tunnel was the size, the majesty, the colour, the heady aroma, the movement, the interplay with its surroundings and visitors… The identity of a fictional world relies on a similar scope: beliefs, habits, communication, trade, language, love, laws… If you build a world with enough layers, it becomes immersive: a place that feels real, where you can visit. People don’t return to middle earth to see Frodo and Gollum battling over a ring at Mount Doom. They return for the colour, for the magic, for the sense of adventure contrasting with cosy feasts by enormous fires.
In my own Blood Gift Chronicles, layers come from cultural and geographical landscapes, with identities intrinsically linked to the natural world. History, mythology and belief bring texture, wildlife brings sound and aroma, art brings colour, and personal motivations bring drive. And there is no shortage of drive. And for the extra vibrancy comes magic in many forms, from the ethereal, the natural, to the apparent hierarchical, and yet nothing is as it seems in a complex world. I am a sucker for origin stories, ones that defy tropes, that are illuminating, enlightening and surprising. Not to mention venturing beyond the mundane with fantastical creatures pushing the boundaries, and providing magical metaphors for the world as we know it. Needless to say, I’m having fun with Book 3.
For now, it’s back to my characters, forging new paths, battling against powers that seem indestructible. And once again I’m reminded of the role stories play in serving as grounding metaphors.
‘We live in capitalism, its power seems inescapable – but then, so did the divine right of kings. Any human power can be resisted and changed by human beings. Resistance and change often begin in art. Very often in our art, the art of words.’
Ursula Le Guin
