A few months back I had a few posts discussing the new book I was starting to write, and the fact that it was going slowly.
No problem, I confidently stated. This is how it always starts, slow and hesitant. But I’ll soon hit my groove and be off.
Yeah, well. That didn’t happen this time. I hit a wall, full stop, and the story didn’t want to go anywhere. I didn’t have much time to bang my skull against that wall though, because some other writing projects popped up and I had to go knock them down.
When they were all prone (for a little while, at least), it was time to figure out why I was spinning my wheels with this book. Which I finally did. The world wasn’t done yet.
This is my first totally secondary world book. I hadn’t really grokked how much that would effect writing it. I mean, I’ve done plenty of short stories set in secondary worlds, run gaming campaigns set in places that I had made up out of nothing. How different could it be for doing a book?
A fair bit, apparently.
So I’ve spent the last week or so grinding out the world-building. Geography, sociology, microbiology. Calendars and holidays, technology and fashion, etiquette and politics, I’m gluing them all together like some gigantic popsicle stick skeleton. It’s a lot of work, but as I do so I can feel the paper mache skin of the story coming together, ready to wrap around those bones.
Soon I’ll start up the story machine again. It should go better this time.
I have the weight of a world behind me now.
Or is it above me?