Worlds Build Plots: How Settings Create Page Turning Books
I admit it - I have a tendancy to bang on about how character creates plot. There are so many facets to how this relationship works. It’s an entire course in itself.
Today I want to spotlight a different type of characterisation and how it affects the plot. It’s not a person, yet it is practically a living entity all of its own, with its own style and flavour. Yes, I’m referring to your story world. Your setting. The characterisation of this beast sits equally pegged with the characterisation of your cast.
If your main characters are the cornerstone of your novel, then the world-building stands as the keystone locking in everything else, captivating and transporting the reader into a whole other dimension. When first fashioning the cut of our fictional worlds, it becomes evident that the characterisation of these landscapes is not merely a backdrop to the plot, but a vital force shaping the contours of the story. There is a tripartite relationship between character, world-building and plot development – three mechanisms impacting one another to propel the narrative forward.
From sprawling landscapes to intricate societal structures, the details of a world form the stage upon where the characters perform and narratives unfold. Establishing the rules of this fictional universe lays the initial groundwork that forms a principal role in dictating story events: scientifically, what can and cannot be performed; which social taboos must not be broken; what magic can never be undone or must not be awakened. Most importantly, what consequences will unfold in the event of these rules being bent or broken.
A well-developed setting is an active participant in the narrative dance. Creating a memorable world with depth and authenticity relies on the writer’s ability to adorn it with unique details – social structures, traditions, trends and historical secrets – just as one would with a protagonist or antagonist. Settings and worlds have backstories of their own, they bear the scars of war, and they have aspirations of dreams yet to be realised. They have their heroic hilltops and their dark and twisted alleyways. Wander off the tourist path in your fictional setting, and its true nature blooms into life. Just as with people, what a setting portrays politely to visitors on its seemingly unrippled surface is a far cry from the undercurrents that flow beneath it. Just as characters have secrets, motivations, internal conflicts, external pressures and complex or traumatic histories, so, too, do the worlds they inhabit.
From the bustling streets of a vibrant city to the serene isolation of a distant mountain range, each setting carries its own energy and potential for conflict. Through warring nations or the urgent need for diminishing high demand resources, etc., the writer can apply pressures to the people, resulting in plot catalysts that force varying factions to take action. These are the external events that intrude on your protagonists and antagonists, creating problems that need resolving. Creating challenges and opportunities that resonate with the essence of the world itself.
Tolkien is always one of my favourite writers to draw examples from. Partly because his stories are so famous in both book and film, but mostly because he is (was?) the daddy of marrying world-building with character development. The man who made society take high fantasy fiction seriously. His vividly rendered landscapes became integral to the quests and challenges faced by the characters. The foreboding Mordor, the idyllic Shire, and the ancient, mystical Rivendell, all contribute uniquely to the plot, carving out the heroes and villains from the very lands whence they came, and they definitely influence the decisions that drive the overarching narrative.
As characters traverse the landscapes crafted by the writer, this exploration of the fictional world leads them to unearth secrets, encounter challenges, form alliances, and confront foes. The act of exploring the world becomes a narrative in itself, propelling the plot forward organically and inviting readers to embark on a journey of discovery.
Historical fiction also relies on intricate world building in the same way that fantasy or science fictions do. Kate Mosse’s doorstop trilogy, set around Carcassonne in France, uses the setting and its rich history to not only tell the story of the characters, but of Carcassonne’s dark and violent history. Phillippa Gregory is another example of authors who must weave a great tapestry of actual history in order to bring its characters to life and execute plot events. Anyone schooled in the UK will probably roll their eyes at how much the murderously misogynistic reign of Henry VIII seems about the only period of history taught in schools, while omitting so many more key moments. Gregory weaves this era – and the era that led up to it – with a whole new type of loom. Through the eyes of the women who suffered as his wives, and how these women were entrapped by the politics that accompanied their king’s decisions, Gregory had to create a whole new fictional lens – a whole new world, essentially. By building a world through the female view, it lends a whole new scope to a subject largely considered rather stale and educationally narrow in scope.
The Revenant is yet another example of how the landscape and history can dictate the plot. Set in the early nineteenth century, Punke conjures a vivid and savage landscape ruled by violent occupiers. And it is from this landscape the character is hewn and plot emerges. The attack of the bear is only the beginning of a tale of survival – a journey dictated by the tools and politics of the period, and the means of survival this harsh environment offers. And to draw one more example, the plot of The Martian was driven by the scientific parameters of the alien environment. Just as with The Revenant, the hostile terrain dictates events. The characterisation of the protagonist dictates how they react to those events.
Speculative and historical fiction draw parallels with one another in this sense. One might be based in true historical records, while the other requires the author’s imagination to create its own histories, but they both must depict worlds that are outside of the reader’s scope of modern day reality. Each genre requires slightly different approaches to the characterisation of both protagonists and setting to shape the plot, but many of their processes are closely aligned.
It’s not just plot or protagonists that world characterisation contributes to. It extends beyond history and culture and stitches atmosphere and vibe into the seams of the book. The mood of a setting, whether it’s the oppressive tension of a dystopian city or the whimsical charm of a fantastical realm, becomes a silent collaborator in the story fabric. It creates a certain flavour and style unique to that particular fiction – a kind of alchemy, if you will, but also dictates its energy.
Characterising worlds with intention and nuance transforms them from passive backdrops into dynamic accelerators in the narrative process. The reader is not just witness to the characters’ journeys, but active participants in the terrain and the adventure. Be it urban fantasy, trailing the coattails of mystery through backstreets and dark alleyways, to epic landscape quests, the characterisation of worlds, when done thoughtfully, not only enriches the reading experience but also elevates storytelling to an art form where every element plays a crucial role on its broader canvas.
It is a skill worth honing. It is an element of your story you cannot afford to skimp on. It’s certainly a behemoth of a task – sometimes it towers over the initial story itself. Just ask George R.R. Martin. His House of Dragons TV series is based on his extensive explorative novel of the Targaryans' history before they arrived in Westeros. This is where the story world has absolutely become a character unto its own. Bigger than any single character in any of his books, his fantasy universe and the amazing knowledge and imagination that created it is what people buy into more than anything. But I can guarantee that whatever works he has published from within this world, there are still unmined depths of history, untold stories, that readers will never get to know because the author always knows more than what ends up in the book.
Whichever your flavour of fiction – fantasy, sci-fi, or historical – there is no doubt that it is the worlds that create intrigue for the reader as much as any character. The details work to immerse them – hook them. Their immediate or outer environments apply external pressures to the character’s unresolved survival need, and that delayed satisfaction is what makes a story a page turner.
It's a wise writer who treats their story world as a character in itself.
Do you have trouble developing or keeping track of your story worlds? Maybe you have an initial idea but don’t know where to begin? A world-building workbook can help dig out and develop ideas, act as a reference point to keep the parameters of your fictional setting consistent, and reveal its inner workings and unique characteristics. My Dig Deep World-building Workbook is the ideal way to begin.
Alternatively, if you wish to learn more about how to characterise both people and settings, try one of my online mini courses.
(My downloadable writing templates and tools are temporarily unavailable while I manage the migration of my blog and online shop. For updates on progress and availability, subscribe to Anvil & Ink, and I’ll keep you informed.)
