All forms of writing require some level of world building. This is especially true in speculative fiction. The reader needs to have a sense of the environment within which the story takes place. That environment is wider than just the physical setting, it includes all the trappings of a society: art & culture; food & drink; politics & religion; fashion; science & magic; infrastructure & transport; technology & structures; languages & class structure; flora & fauna; disease; races of humans, monsters & aliens; and rules & laws – amongst other things.

BUT (that’s in capitals because what follows is very important) …all the details of the world you create don’t need to be included in your story. I know it’s tempting to include it all that gritty minutia you spent hours, days and even weeks researching and thinking about, but just don’t. Only include enough to provide a scaffold for your reader’s imagination, context for your characters, and to move the plot forward.

Because I’m a discovery writer (I discover the story as I write it), I don’t do a great deal of world building before I start writing. I’ll just do enough to get me going. My typical approach for developing a world is very organic. I start with the main character. Once I understand who they are and what drives them, I can start to write the plot around them. The final step is to construct the world in which the character and the plot exist. This means my writing is often interrupted by periods of research.

For The Grotesque Wars (novelette in Letters From Elsewhere), I spent a lot of time researching castles. The final story only carries a glimpse of all that research. I’ve included just enough so the reader can picture a castle, but not be bogged down and distracted by in-depth descriptions. I know the exact layout of the castle and even details of the materials used in its construction, but these have no bearing on the story. Specifics, where needed, are woven into the story, rather than dumped in as a chunk of exposition.

In my novella, Rose Moon, the story moves between three realms: a fantasy realm; a human realm; and the realm of the seasons. Each needed sufficient depth and vibrancy to make them real. Most of the action occurs in the human realm, so that’s where I needed the most detail. I had to consider politics, religion, laws, technology, magic and the setting. Then, determine how the realms interacted.

In the above examples, the worlds were built on an earth or earth-like reality, but that’s not always the case. I’m working on a series of space opera novella’s, Ghost Assassins of Bijou, where almost nothing about the series universe is familiar. I’ve had to build almost everything from scratch, but I start with the known.

• The assassins and their targets are human, but different races.  
• Societies are versions of democracy or autocracy.
• Religions have distorted to fundamentalism and misogyny.

After that, and because I’m not bound by hard science, I can let my imagination riot.

• Spacecraft are mechanically enhanced, sentient cuttlefish-like creatures.
• Intergalactic travel is possible via ‘Punch Flight’.
• There are multitudes of sentient species other than humans.
• Universal translators are glitchy, but exist.

Worlds don’t need to be based in reality, but they do need elements of fundamental truths. Readers need to have something or someone they can identify with or understand.

There’s a whole bunch of stuff I have high confidence writing about: women; sexuality; animals; habitats; politics; and the logistics involved in managing large-scale international projects. There’s a much larger list of things I have less confidence about, including: technology; physics; strategies of war; legal systems; and medical procedures. Those differing levels of confidence will dictate how much research I may need to do, which facets of a world will be more important to my story, and whose perspective the story is being told from. For example, if I have a scene set in a hospital, it will be told from the perspective of a visitor or patient, not from that of a surgeon or staff nurse.

Setting is a critical component of world-building. All too often it’s one dimensional – visual. Add richness with the other senses. The stench of rancid milk evokes an almost involuntary gag reflex in most of us. That first mouthful of rich, bitter coffee in the morning is nirvana to some of us, and repulsive to others. Aromas and flavours are powerful drivers of emotion, as is sound. The mewl of a kitten, the screech of brakes, the scream as you plunge a knife into someone’s stomach. Don’t forget the feel of the warm blood as it splatters on your face, the silk smoothness of the dress you wear, and the irritation of the sand in your eyes. Use all the senses to draw your reader deep into your world.

​Finally, it's important to remember that no world is perfect. There will always be dissent, crime, and inhabitants of societies fringes. Recorded history doesn’t always align with reality, it usually suits those who are in power. The same applies to the interpretation of the tenets of religion, think about the difference between a zealot and someone with faith. We’ve bred thornless varieties of lemon trees but left to themselves, they revert. Animal species aren’t meant to be able to interbreed, yet there are numerous examples of hybrids in nature. Don’t limit your world to one dimension – allow it to be full and rich.
 
Here are some of my favourite worlds.

• Pern – Ann McCaffrey
• The Dandelion Dynasty – Ken Liu
• The Murderbot Diaries – Martha Wells
• Binti – Nnedi Okorafor
• Discworld – Terry Pratchett

Letters From Elsewhere is my first published collection of short stories and is available as an ebook on all your favourite platforms.
Universal Link: https://books2read.com/LettersFromElsewhere

For print version, search directly on your local Amazon or Barnes & Noble site.
 
Blurb
This genre-blending collection is rich in characters who aren’t always what they seem at first glance. Space pirates, Fire Elves and living grotesques take us on journeys across the multiverse and deep into the hidden crevices of the mind. These stories interrogate what it is to be monstrous; and along the way, they confront the patriarchy and explore the spectrum of sexuality. If you like your fantasy and science fiction a bit dark, laced with humour and sometimes spicy, these stories will entertain, disturb and challenge you.
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“Jacqui Greaves titillates with this outstanding collection of speculative encounters, visits and ventures by otherworldly beings, each tale sharpening our understanding of the human condition and the tiny role we play in the universe. Cosmic, cautionary, and compelling, served up with a sprinkle of humour and a good dose of sauce, Letters from Elsewhere is a satisfyingly good read.” —Lee Murray, five-time Bram Stoker Award®-winning author of Grotesque: Monster Stories.

What inspired you to put together this collection?
I’ve been writing short stories for almost a decade now, so I’ve built up a large catalogue. Quite a few have already been published in various online magazines and anthologies, but over the years most of those publications have disappeared into the ether, leaving my stories orphaned. Others have just never found their place in the world.
Earlier this year, SpecFicNZ ran an online workshop on getting your short stories published. It got me thinking. When I went through my files, I realised I had a lot of orphaned and unpublished stories just sitting there doing nothing. So, ‘Letters From Elsewhere’ was born.
The collection covers a broad range of speculative fiction, including fantasy, science fiction, erotica and horror.
 
What on earth possessed you to mix your genres?
Honestly, I don’t set out to mix genres. I set out to ask “What if…”
Most of the stories in this collection are either fantasy or science fiction, with a few lying further afield on the spectrum of speculative fiction. A little under half incorporate explicit sex.
My genre blending is best demonstrated in the story ‘Moths to a Flame’, which has elves fucking in space – so fantasy, science fiction, erotica and a hint of historical fiction all twisted together in the space of a couple of thousand words.
I’m not afraid to include sex in my stories – after all it’s such a primal driver for humanity. I use the word erotica, because it’s a catch all, but I get frustrated when people interpret that to mean romance. The sex in my stories is not often of the romantic kind, it’s more about pleasure, and sometimes it’s weaponised. In ‘Flower Girl’ sex is used for pleasure, as a punishment, to celebrate and as a negotiation tool.
 
Does the collection have a theme?
For me the theme of the collection is ‘what it is to be monstrous.’
Are we born monstrous, or do we become monstrous? It’s not that simple. Our genes, our family, our experiences in the universe all feed into creating who we are. I believe we all have a monster lurking within. Whether that monster is unleashed on the world is a consequence of multitudes of small decisions and actions.
Several stories in this collection, e.g., ‘Persuasion’, ‘The Grotesque Wars’, ‘Please Sign the Waiver’, cause us to question who the real monster is. Often my tales are told from the perspective of someone we would consider a monster, e.g., ‘Starkiller’, ‘You are Already Dead’, ‘The Abyss’. I want my readers to sit in the monster’s skin and question their own monstrousness.
 
Most of your stories include strong female characters. Why?
I’m a feminist and a bisexual, so I naturally include strong female characters and queerness into my stories. I’m so tired of misogyny and the patriarchy – it’s just exhausting having to deal with them decade after decade. So, I write ‘What If’ stories where women rebel against expectations and oppressors get their comeuppance. Some of these stories, e.g., ‘Redundant’, have been influenced by real life.
 
You use humour to great effect. Why?
I once went to a book launch where someone else read out one of my stories. The audience were in hysterics. I was surprised because I hadn’t intended for it to be funny; it just was. That still happens, but I’m more aware of it now and use it consciously.
Some of these stories deal with big, serious issues, like death and the end of the world. By adding elements of humour, I think it makes it easier for the reader to handle these heavy subjects, while not slipping into a pit of despair.
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