World its different from story Stories

Hey there, Timmy! It’s a common pitfall, especially for those of us inclined towards fantasy. Why? Well, creating fantasy realms is downright exhilarating—it’s like embarking on an adventure to unveil something entirely new. I know it might sound a bit too simplistic, but the joy of pure creation is hard to put into other words. Yet, let me tell you, worldbuilding is not the same as crafting a story.

But you might wonder, “Why’s it an issue”. Let’s start from the beginning. Writing about a place, a world that you’ve meticulously built, can go one of two ways. Either you become a guide to the world your story unfolds in, or you might end up with a glorified travel brochure. Harsh? Well, tough luck, Timmy—it is a bit harsh. Writing is time-consuming, and it has a knack for causing frustration. So, your initial concern should be to not make it more frustrating than it already is. Getting lost in the minutiae of your world’s details can turn counterproductive.

Why, you ask? Time, Timmy, Time with a capital “T.” The Time you spend delving into the intricate details of hairstyles in the northern continents of your world is time not invested in your stories, which should be about characters doing stuff.

Now, let’s emphasize a crucial distinction here: focus on what your stories need. Going back to the hairstyle example, if it’s crucial for the story, delve into the details. Maybe dedicate a small section to what’s necessary, relevant, and what you plan to implement. However, if you’re doing it just because you want to, without a real need, you’re wasting time—time better spent building up your characters.

Let me illustrate the point with an example, lets say that you need to intoduce the Orcs so they can be used by the Heroes for some fight so you just halt the narrative and launch a details explanation about the history of the orcs:

“So, for the orcs, it all begins with the great chief Urgc Blo Krog, who was 10 feet 5 inches tall, wore a coat of dwarven mail (…) whose giant stride crushed all before him. He united the great clans under his banner, but his three sons would destroy his work when they fought over the lands he had conquered, dividing his followers into tiny bands, scattering. They decided to claim the northern continent with Trund and Forsto turning it into (…) clashing with the human kingdoms…”

It doesn’t get more straightforward than that, right? Someone obsessed with worldbuilding would go to great lengths to describe everything in as much detail as possible, perhaps even beyond what seems logical or feasible. From details about the armors to who the great chief’s children are and what they did. And here lies the problem, that is just a long text floating in a vacuum with nothing to anchor it, nothing to make the reader care.

A good story doesn’t just tell; it shows through its characters and their interactions with the world. It makes us, as reader care for it Timmy Our environment and our place in the world shape how we interact with it. Halting the narrative flow to delve into the fine details of the socio-cultural state of the orc clans is a mistake. Returning to the earlier example, a better approach could be:

“The band of heroes enters the orc camp, tensions are high, but they’re always high among the orcs. This time, though, they seem higher than usual. Ursula, the Hero’s half-orc companion, places a hand on his shoulder.

‘The three brothers are here,’ she says grimly.

‘Oh, the children of the great chief?’ he asks.

‘Yeah, the ones that survived.’ She looks around at the many wounded, the broken equipment, the discarded material, the scarred veterans. ‘And from the look of it, they seem to be at a stalemate,’ she says, swallowing hard. The Hero decides to keep his guard up; Ursula is never easy to spook, so the situation is probably worse than they thought.

‘But we will need them still. Without their strength…’ The hero grimaces, fully aware of the implications.

‘They are all cornered. That’s the only reason they’re talking. They’ve been fighting for so long that almost no orc remembers a time of peace, and the great chief…’ She trails off, unable to find the words.

‘He would be disappointed?’ the hero asks, lowering his voice to a whisper without moving his mouth. They all feel the pressure mounting as they approach the big bonfire at the center.

‘Yeah, he had the ability to be far more diplomatic than the average Ung,’ she says in a low voice without moving her lips. Harsh as the situation is, they probably have an opening, just not one he can see at the moment. Still, his heart fills with dread as they approach the darkened figures around the fire, the light and shadows playing with their semblances, never staying still for a second. As they join the circle, they feel the ranks of orcs closing behind them; they are committed now.”

That concise passage reveals a lot through showing rather than telling. Firstly, the heroes need the orcs for some fighting. I didn’t delve into details because that should be established long before this point. Whatever the significant threat is, it shouldn’t be repeated too much, as it might lose its impact. We also have a mouthpiece for the orcs in the form of Ursula. Yes, the trope of having a character of a certain race who is sympathetic might be somewhat stale, but it’s functional. If you play your cards right, Ursula could be memorable. Through her, we learn a bit about the history of the orcs and why they are in their current state. There isn’t a flood of details because there doesn’t need to be. The reader just needs to know enough to understand. Through the camp, we know that they are all in bad shape. Despite that, the orcs would like to keep fighting, but they aren’t. Perhaps something of the Great Chief remains in his sons, and that’s why they are willing to talk. Maybe a bit of his diplomatic spirit still lingers or they have a greater need that needs to be addressed, perhaps something the heroes can use. Still, they must be treated with respect because they could squash the hero and his companions.

The crucial part of the scene I just laid out is that you’re shown the world as the characters are experiencing it—the camp, the situation, the mounting pressure, not just from the orcs themselves but from the external threat looming over the heroes. I also introduced a character who can reveal a bit about the orcs, just enough to understand things a bit. I could have easily made her go on a long and tiresome tirade about the history of the orcs, but I didn’t because it would bring the flow to a halt and make the readers lose concentration on what is happening. Additionally, as a character, much like a real human, she doesn’t know it all; she would know just enough as she needs to live, no more. This was a brief example of how to integrate your world into your story.

Worldbuilding by itself is good; it’s thrilling for a certain segment of people, me included. However, there aren’t many who enjoy reading the fantasy equivalent of a history textbook for fun, especially because textbooks tend to be as engaging as watching paint dry.

Additionally, there’s a difference between a setting and the world the story takes place in. Using our own world as an example, a story set in French Guyana will zoom in on that specific part of the world. It provides details about its people, culture, situation, etc. If I wanted to, I could read and study about the people of Norway and place that info in the middle of the story. However, unless the story and the characters demand it, their inclusion would be disruptive and intrusive. Unless adding a detail or building upon something matters to the characters and the plot, you’re just introducing a lot of noise for no reason or purpose, breaking cohesion.

So, to recap, Timmy (almost forgot you were here!), worldbuilding is not the same as a story. A narrative that’s just you delving into the history of something is nothing more than a glorified textbook or a travel brochure—useful while you’re writing, not so much when you’re trying to tell a story. It’s through our characters and how they live and interact with the world, along with their wants and needs, that shape how you present the story to the readers. Doing anything else would be a waste of time, both yours and the readers’.

Well, that was a bit winded and long. Enough for today.

Until Next Time