A couple of weeks ago I looked at world building in fantasy. Here it is in case you missed it:
This week I’m going to look more specifically about the book I’m currently writing, Tales from the Triverse, and the world building techniques I’ve been using. It’s the one I’m publishing every Friday via this newsletter, the central conceit being that there are three separate realities which have collided together. One is 1970s London, another is a far future version of Earth, and the third is a fantasy world called Palinor. Hence ‘triverse’.
What started as a have-my-cake-and-eat-it approach to deciding on my next project has since turned into a detailed setting which seems able to accommodate almost any kind of story (choosing where to point the literary camera is one of the major challenges). It’s the most complicated world I’ve built for a story, so I thought I’d get into the how and the why.
Why bother?
Before I dive into some of the detail in the Triverse world building, I wanted to explain why I took this approach. James left an interesting comment on the previous blog:
This is an approach I’ve used in the past, especially with No Adults Allowed which had a fairly simple backstory and was very much about the characters forging their own future. Triverse was trickier because it was intended from the start to be about culture clash and what happens when wildly different people are banged together. It thematically explores the good, bad and challenging things that can happen when different cultures bump into each other.
For that to work, though, required those cultures to be pre-defined to a certain minimum level of detail. It’s not possible for me to explore the themes of the book effectively without knowing more about those three worlds than the reader. It’s fun for the reader to discover the setting and have it slowly revealed, but it has to cohere in the background all the way through. It required that more-of-the-iceberg-beneath-the-surface approach.
The themes and questions I wanted to raise can’t exist without the fictional world being defined.
Here’s how I’ve gone about it (and how you could, too, if you’re doing a similar project).
Start with broad strokes
The key thing for me is that world building is only interesting, and only useful, if it impacts on the story (which means impacting on the characters and/or themes). I have no real interest in lore for the sake of lore. I know a lot of people thrive on those kind of details, but for me it can end up being noise.
I could sum up my general intent with each of the three ‘universes’ in single sentences:
1970s Earth would feel like our real world of 1970s London, but with a slightly steampunk twist and odd historical quirks.
The futuristic Earth would be a sort-of-hard sci-fi utopian depiction of humanity’s future, with the solar system colonised and highly advanced technology.
The fantastical world of Palinor would have actual, real magic.
I also had a sense of tone. The feeling I wanted these settings to evoke.
1970s London would feel like a classic ’70s cop movie, with hints of The Wire and Gotham Central.
Future Earth would be more like Iain Banks’ Culture novels and Kim Stanley Robinson’s novels than Star Wars.
Palinor would be more like She-Ra and the Princesses of Power than Games of Thrones.
These were useful comparative touchpoints that could guide the more detailed work. As I layered in more nuance, it was easy to check whether it was enhancing that original intent and feel.
Keeping it organised
I knew there was going to be a lot of background material for Triverse, which I would be referring to and expanding during the writing of the book. For this project I did all the prep in Scrivener, so that it could be easily reference.
That’s the Lore folder. It contains all the information on the worlds, separate to my characters and the primary storyline. Everything in the Lore folder is there to support the story, but it is not driven by the story.
Inside each of those sub-folders are specific files like this:
When trying to work out how to differentiate the three settings, this is the structure I came up with. For each setting I defined their technology, economy, religion, geography, culture & society, politics and language. I’m not suggesting that I went all-in and crafted my own made-up languages - I don’t have the skills or inclination to do such a thing - but by drilling down into these specific subjects it became easier to distinguish the settings.
Hence the ‘Technology’ file for Palinor is actually about how magic works. There are 1,098 words on the subject. Here’s a sample:
All magic requires conversion of energy from one type to another. Anyone on Palinor can learn to do this, though it requires years of study. As such it tends to be the aristocratic nobility which can afford to send their children to academies, while poorer families are left without training. This has resulted in a certain prejudice, with cultural assumptions that poorer and less educated people are unable to wield magic - which is not at all true.
The critical thing is that it’s not just magical technobabble for its own sake; it’s all looping back around to how it impacts society, which then creates interesting spaces for stories to be told.
Each of the three settings has these core files, building in the aspect of their differences (and similarities) and how they compare and conflict with one another.
Once I’d worked out what defined each of these universes (and I should note that this is never a ‘finished’ exercise: I’m always tinkering and tweaking and expanding as the story demands) I was then able to delve more deeply into the history. That’s how I ended up with an 1,800 word document detailing the 200 years between the the portals opening and connecting the three worlds and the 1972 setting of the main story.
As an alternate history, it was fun to build out what happened, didn’t happen or happened differently. Here’s an example:
1803ME/2373E/3031P - France, under the leadership of Napoleon, attempts invasion of Britain, largely in an attempt to gain control of the portals and thus access to the new worlds. Max-Earth refuses to get dragged into a foreign war, but some rogue Palinor families assist with the defence of Britain’s coastline, with Napoleon’s armies defeated in 1808ME. The timelines of Earth and Mid-Earth have now clearly deviated from one another. The British Empire gains power. Palinor sees this intervention as a mistake.
Much of this preparatory material was written in a pseudo-encyclopedic style, which helped me to start tuning in to the feel of the story.
Nestled at the top of the research folder in Scrivener are some files which helped me to stay on target during this process:
‘Tone’ and ‘core themes’ were vital to understanding what sort of story I wanted to tell, aside from any of the world building specifics. The core themes file is bare bones, containing nothing more than a list, but it’s probably the most important part of all the notes:
Multiculturalism.
Otherness.
Responsibility.
Superiority.
Exceptionalism.
Migration.
Culture clash.
Prejudice.
Legacy & consequence.
Turning it into a story
None of this matters without having a story to tell, which is the plot folder comes in. This began to form simultaneously with the world building. It was only as the settings came into focus that I was able to pin down the scope of the plot, but I also needed the skeleton of the plot to dictate what I needed from the settings. It’s a weird, complex dance.
There are multiple files in here, because the Triverse plot is quite a twisty, turny, intertwined thing. Although the story presented to the readers is simpler, and focused around a police procedural structure, there are simultaneous threads running in all three of the universes. Figuring out the interplay between them, and how and when to connect he dots, was one of the major challenges (and continues to be).
This over-arching plot is told through smaller episodes. I have a folder for that, too, which probably isn’t surprising by this point:
There’s a whole load more files in there, each with a different story idea. Some are just the title, or a one-liner, while others are more developed. They’re not in any particular order, so I’m able to pull out an episode idea as and when I need it. Most of the episodes are self-contained (even while the main arc stuff is happening in the background), so it’s possible to shuffled and deal out episodes in whatever order I wish.
There are 16,000 words in Scrivener’s research folder for the Triverse project, much of it written before I began writing the main text of the story. The project required a base knowledge of the world in order for that main story to function correctly, which is why it was necessary to front-load so much of it.
Triverse is complex for me as a writer. I may not attempt anything quite so deep in its world building again. For readers, it hopefully comes across as a story that resonates, with a world that feels real.
TL;DR: I like having lots of folders in Scrivener.
Quick mention for the 2022 Online Fiction Writers’ Survey, which is still open and very much would benefit from your input. You can find out more here:
Meanwhile, if you’re looking for some new ebooks to read I have a couple of promos to point you towards, both of which contain a smart collected edition of the first season of Tales from the Triverse.
If you like Addictive Thrillers, you can grab a whole bunch of them over here.
And if you’re more into Fantastical Creatures then this is probably for you.
It says a lot about the utterly mad thing that is Tales from the Triverse that it can legitimately be part of both of those promotions.
As ever, thanks for reading. See you on Friday for new Triverse chapters.
Note to self: never attempt merging three different universes :D
A fascinating look backstage. I keep thinking I ought to look into Scrivener