I have a confession to make: I abhor worldbuilding. I’m not sure if it is because it seems to drain the life from my work as opposed to infusing it with this sense of inexplicable wonder or if my worlds are simply mundane, but I can’t stand it. I know that so many writers enjoy jumping headfirst into constructing a world that their readers will probably never be able to fully explore, but it pains me to do that and I don’t know why.

Rather than run away from worldbuilding completely, I think I’m going to take a few baby steps into it and see where I can go. Perhaps, to me, the entire world is not important at this stage of the plotting. After all, I’m not writing an epic fantasy or planning a trilogy of novels that encompasses dozens of areas. From life experience and reading several books of this type, I’ve learned that you don’t necessarily have to go far to have an adventure and that the layers upon layers of city that we ignore in our daily lives tend to have more to them than meets the eye.

So I’m going to tiptoe into worldbuilding and see where it takes me. Instead of zooming out to take a broader view of the world and describing every infinitesimal geographical feature, I’ll shorten my scope and construct my city to suit the needs of the story, while only hinting to things that serve no purpose to it. This is probably another Duh! moment brought to you by Writing or Bust!, but these faux eureka events are helping me shape my own rules of writing and I love ’em all.

If none of that made sense, then today’s lesson could be summed up as this: Plot and build only what is necessary to the story being told. Everything else is just a headache waiting to happen. Or one that already happened in my case!

Here’s hoping that it actually works! If not, then maybe I’m more of a discovery writer than I thought.

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