Worldbuilding 101

Are you here to learn about worldbuilding? If you answered yes, great! Because that's what the title says and had you stumbled here blindly I would have been concerned. If you know me, you might know that I love worldbuilding. Love it so much that I often write its name in the margins of my notebook and draw little hearts around it.

Why do I love it so much? Mostly because it is fun, but also I sort of have a degree in it. As in a Bachelor's Degree.

Not kidding.

Maybe a little kidding, but I do have legitimate university training in this subject. You see, I have a BA in Social Studies Education. For my degree, I had to take classes in each aspect of social studies to ensure that I would be able to teach it sufficiently  (in my case, I took way more classes than required and almost had a double major).

What is Social Studies?

Geography, civics & government, economics, psychology, sociology, anthropology, religious studies, and history. Essentially, the study of the world's physical form and the societies that occupy it. How those societies function and interact and the impact they have on the earth.
Past, present, and future.

What elements should you consider in worldbuilding?
See above.

I have now led several workshops on worldbuilding and created many handouts that people have told me are quite helpful. Handouts that I will share with you below. I even learned how to do this fancy embedded PDF thing so you can see what you're getting (I really hope it works...)

To download the file for saving and printing, you can click the link below the embedded image and it will take you to Google Drive to download and/or print as needed.

Feel free to share them with your friends, writing groups, students, and so forth.

Keep in mind that I spoke (fangirled) when presenting these, but you should still be able to get the idea of where my thoughts go with each. (If not, ask me.)

Download: Building Your World

This first handout addresses the top layer of considerations. Geography, time, placement, etc.
The best place to start. Start big or start small and work from there.

Download: What's in a Name?

This one is about naming places in your world. As I mentioned in a previous post, you won't believe all the naming you'll be doing.

Download: Aspects of a City

These are the elements of your city. The foundation, the framework, and the fluff!
This is how you breathe life into it!

Download: Businesses & Beyond

Lastly, we have a little cheat sheet for businesses and the like. I struggled to think of places that were essential to keep a city running and this final list seems relatively comprehensive. Depending on where and when your story takes place, you may need more or less of these or want to combine them into one building instead of several.

The Activity

I do an activity with these workshops that encourages on the spot city creation! You pick one element from each of the categories on the Aspects of a City handout and apply it to a randomly drawn city setting using this list...

Download: City Settings

Some of these are very basic while others are unusual, but I wanted to make sure that everyone got something different and because my fellow wordsmiths are already really creative, I was looking forward to what they would do with their foundation.

And I was not disappointed! They all did an amazing job with what they got and I was internally squealing with delight at their descriptions. 

What makes this activity so great is that everyone's mind can go in different directions!

A town with no humans? I was thinking werewolves, but Brent went for a robot utopia.

Transportation? Planes, trains & automobiles... pthhthp! Chad's city has hydrotubes. Heck yeah!

This is a great way to get the creative juices flowing and some of the wordsmiths may have given me a death stare after drawing their slips, but it was so worth it. 

So get out of your comfort zone and have fun, folks!

Writing Prompt: Splintered

I know I've been slacking on writing posts, but there is a big reason for that which I will post at a later time. (Hint: I've been writing something big.)

So I wanted to post something to hold you over.

My writing group, Wicked Wordsmiths of the West, did a sprint prompt at this evening's meeting and everyone wrote such great pieces! We each drew a picture from a bag and had 15 minutes to describe the world in the picture as a worldbuilding exercise. 

So here is the short little bit I wrote for my picture:

Splintered

The constant barrage of early summer storms usually blocked out the second moon, but the brief moments in between, when the sky was clear, you could enjoy the strange view. While the clouds moved in each morning, we would rush to harvest what we could before they arrived, forcing us to flee back to shelter. It is not wise to carry a scythe in a thunderstorm.

In the late summer, the storms will calm and the moons will give us just enough light to gather the rest of the wheat. When the sun returns in the autumn, though, the earth will be scorched. The annual slaughter of Gaea's orb that prepared it for the devastating winters that covered the barren earth with ice and snow.

No one suspected we would last this long after the splintering of our planet. When it began to tear itself apart, we expected the frequent quakes to swallow us, the storms to batter us, and the massive eruptions to bury cities as if in tribute to Pompeii. Instead, we began to move, as if Earth was seeking refuge somewhere away from itself, but it simply wandered among our surrounding celestial neighbors like a lost child searching for its mother.

To the moons. To the sun. To the emptiness. Then rushing back for what seemed familiar.

And each day, the atmosphere shifted and cracked under the pressure of the constant journey. No one knew how long she could keep this up; how long she would stay together. So we only do what we can from day to day. Continuing to do the work that distracts us from the day she will eventually shatter.

Love & The Lost

I saw a prompt long ago to take a quote you love and make a story from it. Most of the quotes I like are from stories to begin with so I just sort of passed over it. However, with Valentine's Day coming up I decided on one to use for a prompt.

The quote I chose is from Nick Dear & Danny Boyle's Frankenstein (which is brilliant by the way, and I really hope they make a DVD of it).

Copyright National Theatre

Victor asks the creature "How does it feel to be in love?" And the response is what I used for the story (this dialogue varies from performance to performance):

"It feels like all the life is bubbling up in me and spilling from my mouth, it feels like my lungs are on fire and my heart is a hammer it feels like I can do anything in the world!"

Love and The Lost

How does it feel to be in love?

It's like a construction crew is working in my chest. They are using my heart as a hammer to connect each piece of the structure and welding the metal beams with the fire in my lungs. I can barely hear my own thoughts over the racket they’re making.

This is how it always is, though. Each morning we step on to the train and share the same car, but never speak a word to one another. I'm too afraid to open my mouth, as if doing so will cause all my feelings, all my affections for her to spill out into a puddle on the floor.

I feel braver today. Like a superhero waiting on that cry for help to spring into action and rescue the damsel. Of course, she's no damsel in distress. She walks with confidence and has an air of culture about her that I will never wear. I just need an excuse to approach her.

What are you reading? I could ask that to start.

No, I can't interrupt her while she's reading. She's always so engrossed in the pages that the interruption would be devastating. No one likes to be interrupted while they are reading, and she is a passionate, voracious reader. Except there's something different about today. Her gray eyes barely move and we have passed two stations without her turning the page. She's not reading at all. She must be thinking about the book instead; I can't interrupt her.

One more stop and we will reach our station. That's when I'll do it. I will ask her about the book or compliment her yellow sweater. I feel like I can do anything today. She empowers me to be a better person, motivates me to be happier.

I can do anything in the world and it will all start on this station platform. I'll let her exit first and walk in time with her. Months of waiting, but today I have my courage. There she goes and now I will follow. Not too close, not too eager.

She's stopped. Everyone moves around us to file off the train, but she's waiting. On what? Are we at the wrong station?

The train is pulling away and I'm too nervous to approach her, but something is wrong. Maybe she's going somewhere different today and has to wait for the next train. Or maybe she has noticed me. 

She might think me a stalker. It would be difficult to explain that I'm not. Today is not the day after all. Maybe tomorrow or the next day. 

I pass her by, and she returns to the platform. Did she lose something? 
The sound of another train. She can't be boarding, she's on the wrong side. 

A thump, she's dropped her book! This is what I have waited for, this is my opportunity!

But where has she gone? People on the other side are panicked and flailing their arms. My girl in the yellow sweater has jumped onto the tracks.

Construction is in full swing; my heart is a hammer and my lungs are on fire and all the life inside me is bubbling up and escaping my lips in pants as I run. I will never have this feeling again if she is gone. The sound of my heart is drowned out by the roar of the approaching train and it will be the only sound I ever hear when I see a yellow sweater again.

The roar of the train and the screech it made as it stopped moments later.



Is this how love feels? Breathless and frightened. Lying on the platform with the girl in the yellow sweater. Clinging to her and the copy of Paradise Lost.

"You dropped your book." 

You finally have your chance and you decide to be clever. That's all right, you can do better next time. She makes you feel like you can do anything and maybe now she will feel the same.

Prompt: On This Day...

My writing group had a prompt suggestion to find an article published on your date of birth and tell a story using information from it. After lots of digging, I found a few articles that I thought were interesting (and a bit terrifying). I ultimately chose one with a hint of inspiration from another.

Main Article: Tugboat Massacre

Secondary Article: Horror Movie in the Making

Date: November 21, 1984

The Illusionist's Daughter

Stefan flicked the remains of his cigarette into the shifting water at his feet as he watched the police force work further down the port at another dock. He had been waiting for more developments since the initial announcement on Monday that the missing boat had been found. There were four bodies found on board, but not ones that interested him.

"Sir!" Nicolae was breathless by the time he stumbled onto the pier and bent over, resting his hands on his thighs to recuperate.

"What did they find? I can't see anything this far away. Hurry, hurry." He tapped his walking stick against the knotted wood planks below him to express his urgency and Nico nodded weakly. "Two bodies. Captain Markey and another crew member. Young guy."

"Excellent! Well, not for Charles and his men. But for us; for her! That's everyone accounted for as far as the police are concerned so we can do our work in peace."

"I don't mean to bring you down, but if she isn't dead in the Tug doesn't that mean she was taken?"

The older man smacked Nico's leg with the cane and shook it at him unsteadily. His accent thickened with his irritation at the young man’s comment and he muttered in between words to himself. "Taken means she is alive! Her safety is what matters. Go to Vasile's shop and collect Anton and Cornel. You are to search the ports and buildings until she is found. Put out word at the shops that we are looking for the illusionist’s daughter. If she was taken, it was by someone Yuri hired and we have not gone to all this effort to see her fall into that Russian’s hands. Da?" The younger man had been rubbing his injured knee, but upon receiving new orders he shook it out and backed away meekly.

***

Jake pushed the door open slowly and peered into the small room beyond, studying the woman on the bed with interest until she looked his way. He took a deep breath and opened the door further to slip in with a plastic bag. "Hello again."

No response as usual.

"I brought you some food and soda. I thought I might find you some sneakers or something, but I don't know your size." He gestured to her bare feet and though she looked at them, she was still silent.

With a quiet sigh, Jake sat down on the bed beside her and dug through the convenience store bag and removed a few snacks and bottled sodas. Despite her apparent muteness, the girl seemed generally unperturbed by her bizarre situation. He and his compatriots had commandeered the tugboat as per their employer's instructions and he was sent into the bow of the ship, for what, he didn’t know until it was all over. The barge being transported was loaded down with scrap metal, but the item they were hired to get was a large crate. They were all shocked when they removed the lid to find a woman inside the box. 

That was last night and she had been sitting in this little room ever since without speaking a single word. She looked a little older than him, maybe late twenties or even early thirties, but she reminded him of a child through her actions. The woman was fascinated by everything around her and while he opened a bag of chips, she inspected a bottle with her bright doe eyes. She tilted the bottle, turning it over to watch the liquid move and he gently corrected it.

"If you shake it, it will taste bad." He twisted off the lid and handed it back to her, "It’s like water, but better." He tilted another bottle to his lips in demonstration and she followed his example. She winced, her nose wrinkling at the abrasive taste and strong flavor and he chuckled at her surprise. "Never had it before?"

There was still no verbal response, but the answer was clearly written on her expression. She took another drink, then another and repeated this until the frown disappeared. It was apparent that she still wasn't a fan, but it had certainly grown on her. He offered her the bag of chips, eating one as well and she mimicked him again.

"So, can you not talk? It's okay if you can't, my friend's dad can't talk either. Maybe you know sign language?" He held up three fingers and moved them toward his lips. "That's the only one I know; water, right?"

He was getting nowhere. She was still silent and staring at him with wide eyes. They would be delivering her to the Russian who hired them in a few days so there was no point in getting attached. He stood and made his way to the door, "Well, good talk. Enjoy the snack and yell 'Jake' if you need anything." He jerked his thumb towards himself as he spoke the name and she grew anxious as he tried to leave. 

"Jay?" He froze at the door and looked over his shoulder at the woman who was struggling through the sounds. "Jay."

"Jake," he pointed to himself and returned to her side. "My name's Jake."

"Jake." She pointed at her chest and he fought down a chuckle. "No, I'm Jake." He emphasized his words by taking her hand and redirecting her pointed finger to him. She repeated his name quietly like a mantra, then pointed to herself in confusion.

"Do you have a name?" She looked thoughtful and he thought for a moment that she did not, but she finally tapped her chest just above her heart. “Irina.”

He had never heard the name before, but it was enough to tell him that her reluctance to speak was simply because of the language barrier and before long he had become captivated by her accent and the thought of teaching her to communicate. There were certain words that, no matter how he emphasized them, she always spoke them in the same way: ‘da’ for yes and ‘nu’ for no.

The evening had passed quickly and when he finally left her, she was visibly depressed at the idea of being left alone again, but he assured her that he would return in the morning. He walked by her door a number of times that night and paused to listen to the quiet conversation that she had with herself. She spoke a number of words that he didn’t understand, but smiled each time she said his name even though he didn’t know the context.

Monday the police announced that the boat had been found and that the bodies of the crew were on board. Jake hadn’t realized that his comrades had killed the men and he panicked internally at the thought of being involved in the whole business. Theft, rather kidnapping, was by no means justifiable, but murder was never discussed and he worried about what would happen to Irina once she was handed over to the Russian that had hired them.

He kept his concerns from her so as not to incite worry, but Wednesday night he eavesdropped on his companions and resolved to abandon the job. The remaining two bodies had been found and the police were still clueless as to why the boat was stolen, yet nothing taken. Yuri, their suspicious employer, would arrive to collect Irina in the morning, but Jake would not let him take her.

He threw open her door and she beamed with delight until she saw the look of determination on his face. “Ce? What is the matter?” Jake tore off his sweater and threw it around her shoulders before pulling the hood down over her eyes and bending down to her level. “Irina, I don’t think it’s safe here. I’m going to take you somewhere else.”

“We are running away, da?” He nodded, looking back at the door in fear that the others would find them before they could escape. “Da, I mean yes. We’re going to go someplace else. If you want to go with me.” He held out his hand and she grabbed it. “I want to run with you.” He squeezed her hand and smiled, tugging her along behind him as they maneuvered through the halls of the derelict apartment complex they had been calling home.

"Where do we go?" He looked down at her and forced a reassuring smile. "I know some people who can maybe help, we just have a ways to go." It was a long shot, but if they could get to East Harlem he could speak to one of the Circus Arts instructors he had worked with before. As a child he had joked about joining the circus, but now he held out hope that he would succeed in the endeavor.

"Jake? What are you doin'?"

The couple halted as the harsh voice of Tony stopped them and Irina tightened her grip on Jake's hand. "I'm just taking her for a walk."

"A walk? She's not a dog. Take her back." Jake stood firm despite Tony's threatening appearance, "She needs fresh air."

"Well she ain't gonna get it at the docks. She'll get plenty of air tomorrow when she goes to her new home." Silence was the man's only response and the couple stood unmoving while Jake searched his mind for a plan. "Jacob, I won't repeat myself."

Irina tugged at his sleeve and whispered from under the hood, "Close your eyes and we will run." 

He was baffled by her command, but her smile and frantic nodding encouraged him to obey. He closed his eyes and heard Tony's heavy footsteps and muttering as he approached.

He was in darkness for only a moment as a bright light flashed around him. It was as if a sparkler had been lit before his sealed eyes and he flinched when a startling sound followed. He heard Tony shout and felt Irina's tug, "Run!"

He ran looking back to see the kidnapper on the floor, rubbing his eyes and groping around him as if he had been struck blind. "What did you do to him?"

"It is all right. He is just, er, dizzy?" They dashed through the door and into the cold November air. Irina looked around her curiously, surprised by the new view, but Jake gave her hand a squeeze to remind her of their urgent situation.

As they ran, he assessed the situation and realized that he was a complete fool. Was he really going to run away with this strange foreign girl that he helped kidnap? How many people were after her? Certainly the Russian and now his former partners, but who else would be looking for her?

It was too late to change his mind now. He looked back at his precious cargo and saw the joy on her face. He originally wondered if she actually understood what was happening, but the smile she wore told him she did; maybe even better than he.

As for Irina, the only thoughts that went through her mind were of freedom. After years of being in cages, she was free; from her father, from the man he sold her to, and all the others who wanted her for her gifts. She didn’t care where they went, so long as they went together.