Your Novel’s World: How Do You Create It?

So this is partially inspired by Amanda Rudd’s awesome world-building post (and her Bheidien). When I asked her how she creates her worlds, she said this:

I wouldn’t say I specifically go out and research anything in particular, BUT I have a long-standing deeply-ingrained fascination with culture, religion, and anthropology. I’ve taken art history classes, anthropology classes, philsophy classes, comparative religion classes, (I ended up minoring in Theology), and watch Discovery Channel and NatGeo religiously, and I read history books a lot. All of that just sort of coalesces in a variety of ways as I try to think about what would be more or less plausible for certain cultures.

There’s more to the comment, but that part made me smile and want to write a blog post (haha). See, that’s how Dominant Race came about. I was watching National Geographic and the issue of climate change (or is it global warming? I forget what they’re calling it these days) mixed with my own idea for a dystopian-type story. But before all of that, I watched a documentary about genetically modified organisms (GMOs) and the crops in the US. Fast forward to when I was watching National Geographic and bing! Like the little timer in my head went off and told my brain my novel idea was finished preheating; now I needed to mix all the world and setting ingredients and put it in the oven along with the plot and all that.

Half Life was also like that. I love history, especially the Tudor period (not just because of Henry VIII’s wives), and I wanted to create an aristocracy that mimicked that but other aspects of certain fantasy worlds I enjoyed. The main question I wrapped all of this around was this: What if the elves weren’t the holy beings they’re typically portrayed as? Of course, I got sidetracked by other things, especially their mythology. Do they have a monotheistic or a polytheistic religion? Do they even have a religion at all? Stuff like that. It’s why Half Life is my baby — quite a big baby.

What about you? How do you create your worlds? Tell me — I’m excited to find out!

Turn a Blind Eye: a Half Life Story

Devaros stared through the smoky room at the dancers. The players rapped out a lighthearted, very jovial tune, and he tapped his foot despite himself. At the center of the room was Kaemarre, the darkest elfwoman he’d ever seen. She was truly the greatest beauty from the forest towns, that much had always been apparent. And her eyes. Such golden, beautiful eyes both wild and brimming with a type of happiness Devaros never knew. He never got over that look, not once in the past seven seasons.

She smiled at him and waved for him to come forward. With a small shrug, he shook his head. This time, she ignored his silent rebukes and ran towards him, gripping his hand hard. She was so warm.

“Since it’s my last night here, you will grace me with at least one dance, my lord. Or did you intend to stare at me the entire time and let me go home without a word?” She grinned. “Come.”

His heart tried to deny how much he enjoyed her movements around him, how much he loved to watch her skirt twirl, but before the night was done, he was smiling, laughing, and twirling with equal spirit. It was hard for him to let go of his reserve; after all, he held many enemies being Master Harbinger. Still, he let go and allowed Kaemarre to show him a world he only watched.

The night ended too quickly. Before long, the players packed their instruments. Most of the nobles and his other guests had filtered out by then except for Kaemarre. He wanted to demand the players continue, but he knew the sun would rise in a few hours and Kaemarre would return to the Cedrilaen town she came from.

As if sensing his conflict, Kaemarre walked him out to his balcony and leaned against its strong, polished rail. “Will you be escorting me home, my lord?”

“I cannot, though,” he took her hands, “I would if it weren’t for my obligations.”

“I see.” Her face sagged and her expression became suddenly forlorn. “Your job as the Highlord’s Master Harbinger requires you kill many with human blood, does it not?”

He wasn’t comfortable with this. “Why do you ask?”

“I know you turn a blind eye to things about me that you shouldn’t.” Her eyes burned into his with pain, anguish, and rage, making their golden hue appear almost molten.

Sighing, he all but hung his head between his hands. “Your grandmother is the human slave of your grandfather’s small estate and is beloved by all in your town. I know — I’ve known since we first met.”

“And when were you supposed to kill me? Tonight? After we made love? When, my lord?”

He blinked. Had she wanted to make love with him? It was wrong to be so excited by that thought. “With all my heart, I was going to quietly kill you on your way back, when you traveled through the deepest part of the forest.”

“That would certainly make it easy to blame a wolf or shapeshifter for my death.”

“Kae, I’ve no intention of killing you.” He kissed her cheek, despite how painful the look of disgust on her face was. “Your name will never appear on my records for as long as I live. I swear by the gold and red Ones.”

“And I swear, my lord, that you shall never see me again after this night.”

“If that’s your wish.” Before she could say any more, he kissed her firmly on the lips and quickly withdrew to his chambers, emerging only after he heard Kaemarre’s caravan pass through his great dwelling’s gates.