Many writers get their start in the areas of science fiction, fantasy and the myriad of genres that incorporate or border on one or the other.
One common assumption is that it's easier to build your own world than to work within the confines of an existing one, so that when you begin to write about things more interesting or grandiose than those you've done yourself, you don't have to waste time on any pesky research or risk straying accidentally into potential hot-button areas of the modern world and its many sensitivities.
In a sense, that's true: when you write the world, you write the rules. Want laser swords? Look at that, laser swords. How do they work? Who cares! They're laser swords! Welcome to soft sci-fi, friend. Take a seat next to the hemophage and make yourself comfortable.
The age-old joke of "a wizard did it" is actually at the core of a frighteningly high percentage of first works (and sometimes entire series). Why bother with rules when you can just chain a number of cool scenes together on an arbitrary set of environmental factors that just crapped out for the heck of it. It makes the backdrop to your stunning foreground an effortless exercise in "because I said so."
The difference between the slurry of such half-assed pseudo-settings and an iconic world that keeps a series alive even when you kill the characters off every other book is the dedication to building yourself an honest-to-god world.
If you're taking to sci-fi or fantasy with any seriousness, you've got to look at your setting from the perspective of the skeptic. Every science from physical to social is involved in crafting a new world, a new time, a new species or culture. The moment you step off the well-defined rock, you had better hope you are prepared for the void of empty space between yourself and the believable setting you crave.
That's not to say you have to triple-major just to craft a fantasy epic. There are holes in the science of some of the greatest fictional settings of all time and no one much seems to mind. What's important is that you recognize where the sticking points are in a setting so that at least your second-tier readership don't bang their heads against the wall trying to reason out the presence of Olmec writings in North Dakota.
First, the physical: if you're going with a new locale, it's important to start roughly at the beginning. If your setting is stable and planetary, use the basics of what you know here on Earth to support it. Altering the overall climate, the ratio of land to water or properties of the metals used will give it an alien feel without having to redefine physics as we know it.
Be careful of going to extremes. While they can emphasize a point and lead you into an entirely new feel for how people survive, most systems we're familiar with work on the perspective of equilibrium.
Too much of anything tends to come with some fairly drastic drawbacks or environmental repercussions. If you can provide the reader some evidence of that backswing or an external point against which the extreme is balanced, it settles the brain from wondering why the whole thing hasn't teetered into the abyss already.
Life systems are far more complicated to intertwine. Metals or elements with new properties are simplistic and pure enough that readers can adapt to rocks that float and liquids that crystallize under new and different stimuli, but life is a system unto itself, which when wrapped inside a larger ecosystem creates a sort of Sierpinski Triangle effect that can become infinitely recursive.
If both these terms are alien to you, you might want to consider going with fantasy instead of sci-fi.
When it comes to life, remember that every quality something has was at some point an evolutionary advantage. It doesn't have to be an obvious one (in fact, sometimes all the better when it isn't), but if it's unnecessarily complicated or doesn't have at least the hint of a practical application towards survival your readers are likely to guess you're just playing with the scenery.
Though they may not necessarily mind.
Life is connected both to its environment and to each other, so if you're going to toy around with the ecosystem, you may want to start with what you know. If you need help emphasizing the alien nature of the new lifesystem within an existing context, look to our finest and weirdest examples: deserts, jungles, and deep under the ocean.
Depending on your story, the social element can be more vital, and much more complex. As I mentioned, life interacts with both its environment and each other. The same is true from a social perspective: cultures evolve, grow, interact, impact each other, absorb, blend, conquer, trade, intermarry and collapse.
If you're planning on building a social/political world, don't just build up the city or kingdom where the story takes place: have an idea in mind of the outlying lands. Distant nomads, enemies abroad, a land across the sea: even if the local knowledge is sparse, rumors and legends will abound. It helps prevent your setting from being Castle #187 and blends it with a new canvas of worlds that tantalize the imagination and leave you open for far-ranging sequels.
Time is another realm where you can insert a good bit of mystery even in more modern settings. History is not always perfect or clear, and the past leaves treasures galore in the ghosts of civilizations long since past their time. Just remember that even The Ancients had a culture and a reason for being. Leaving behind ruins or abandoned technology doesn't make much sense if you haven't thought about why the people are no longer there in the first place.
Politics is an entirely different can of worms. If your story involves an organized society, there's bound to be law and rule and possibly even those who dispute that rule. Understand the basis for that structure before you start to impose it on the world. You don't have to explain it at length to the reader, just ensure that the parts of it which impact your story are internally consistent, else you risk wandering into Disney Villain territory.
There are dozens of premade ways to rule and philosophies on how best to govern a society, from militaristic martial law to free-thinking, laissez-faire, communal democracy, and none of them are inherently good or evil. Just because a dictator is totalitarian doesn't mean he doesn't have your best interests in mind. Just because the fate of a people is in their own hands doesn't mean it's in the best hands.
Again, be careful of extremes: history tells us that we rise up against too much law or in the absence of any. Humanity and its kindred ilk strive for some degree of balance and stability. Again, use the environment to help stabilize an otherwise lopsided situation. A city on the dangerous frontier is more given to martial law that a large urban center far removed from any immediate threat.
Don't be afraid to be fancy. Need a unique form of government your readers likely haven't seen before? Look no further. Just remember that every style has its place, and it weaknesses. Look for them in your setting before your readers find them for you.
When it comes to world-building, don't feel pressured to reinvent the global wheel. There's a great deal of variance on our own terrestrial home, it's easy enough to switch things up and keep it interesting without having to build everything from scratch. But if you're looking to make your own place out of the pieces floating through your mind, just be sure to fill in the blank spots between.
Try to follow the dots you're drawing and see if they add up to anything sensible. Want laser swords? No problem. Just have in mind a rough sketch of how they work. "Magic rock" here is an acceptable answer (in fact, it was), because a rock is already a more attainable concept that "my sword glows like a Christmas tree on steroids."
Remember, too, that you don't have to explain all this to the reader. We come to sci-fi and fantasy wanting a little mystery and magic and mysticism. But if you start to build for yourself rules on which that mystery is based, you run into fewer problems when the pieces don't seem to add up. It's enough to keep the larger part of your audience satisfied (and brainstorming new ideas) so that you can get your story out without any distractions.
And when the Comic Book Guy's of the world try and tell you it's still not good enough, remind them that when wookies are the norm, they can overlook a little thing like hyperdrive.
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