Posts Tagged ‘worldbuilding’

Recently, I tried to read Goblin by Josh Malerman. For those of you who don’t know, Goblin is a collection of six novellas that all take place in the small Michigan town of Goblin, where it rains sixty percent more than anywhere else in the US, the police resemble shuffling zombies, and you don’t enter the woods if you want to come out again.

I liked the idea of it and finally got around to reading it recently. And…I was unimpressed. I got through pages quickly every time I picked it up, but the stories within were just not drawing me in. By the time I got to the fourth novella (I know, I’m a trooper), I was lagging. And finally, by the first night in Marietta, I just couldn’t finish it. I put it down, never to pick it up again.

What was the issue? Well, it was the focus on the titular town. There was too much time spent on it and not enough on the stories. On the storytelling. On the horror.

Way too many words are spent on the town’s history and geography. It feels more like a history lesson at times. In fact, the second novella is focused on a former high school history teacher who knows the town history like the back of his hand. And you get that there’s a lot of interesting history there. And you can feel Malerman’s love for the fictional town.

But all that isn’t what we picked up the book for. We came for a book with six interconnected novellas centered around a single town that will hopefully scare the shit out of us. And this emphasis on worldbuilding by the author comes at the expense of the scaring the shit out of us.

Now, every story, regardless of genre, requires some degree of worldbuilding. The horror genre is no exception. You have to establish the setting, the people, the vernacular, and all that. Sometimes this can be done with having a date at the beginning of the story or just a few hints. Other times, like with stories set in historical eras, you have to do a ton of work to build the setting, bringing to life the clothes and manners and whatnot. And in the fantasy and sci-fi genres, authors will have all sorts of complicated compendiums and charts and maps to make their made up worlds feel as real as possible.

That being said, in the horror genre, the emphasis has to be on scaring readers. So, while you can spend time building those worlds, you have to remember it’s all in subservience of telling your story and scaring those readers. Look at Alma Katsu’s historical horror novels, or my own novel The Pure World Comes. We put so much research into the eras our stories take place and spend so much time building those locations, you can almost feel the winter chill killing the Donner Party, or smell the offal in the street of Victorian London.

The Hunger is a great example of a story where the worldbuilding doesn’t overwhelm the storytelling.

But neither of us forget that this is all for the story. We never think that the location, while interesting, is more important than telling the story. And it feels like with Goblin, Malerman, for all his strengths as a writer, got those priorities mixed up. And the result were six subpar novellas that might have been decent if more time was spent trying to frighten us readers.

Honestly, I wish the book had approached Goblin’s history like King approached the history of Derry in IT. In that book, the town history, which has several chapters devoted to it, doesn’t detract for the story. For one thing, most of those chapters take place in-between the action, which doesn’t detract from the story. Second, most of those history-building chapters are presented as Mike Hanlon doing research on the town and on It, so these sections are not only part of the main story, but they add context and help us realize just how ingrained It is to Derry. In Goblin, the history is rarely related to the events of any of the novellas, which only detracts from the stories.

And finally, It always has a hand in the history of the town. Whether appearing as Pennywise or causing some disaster at the end of Its active period, It is always there, making the history of Derry the history of It.

As for Goblin…the history could be cut out of most of the novellas I read and it wouldn’t matter. In fact, it might make the stories scarier. Especially since those stories I read don’t really have anything to do with Goblin history.

This is something important to keep in mind when writing horror in a location that requires extensive worldbuilding. Yes, it’s important to bring the location to life. Yes, the history can be interesting and can be talked about throughout the story. However, that must all be done as part of the story. In service to the story. Otherwise, you’re just going to get an ode to a fictional town, and not anything really scary.

Personally, I think I would rather read IT or The Hunger again and use those lessons in my own writing.


One more thing, Followers of Fear: The Solar Press Horror Anthology Volume I, which contains my story “The Dedication of the High Priestess,” is going to be released on December 1st. Not only is this an exciting short story anthology, it also contains one of my favorite short pieces, in print for the first time (before this, it was only available in audio).

If you would like to preorder a copy, you can do so using the links below. If you like in the UK and EU, order directly from the website. If you live in the US, use Orbit DVD.

That’s all for now, my Followers of Fear. Until next time, good night and pleasant nightmares!

One of the YouTube channels I follow is Tale Foundry, a channel that breaks down how different genres and mechanics of storytelling work and then uses the lessons gleaned to write original short stories. They present themselves as robots in a foundry that works with fiction rather than metal (hence the name Tale Foundry). Their latest series of videos has been around worldbuilding in fiction, and their latest video, which I’ve embedded below, really got me thinking.

Now, if you didn’t watch the video for whatever reason, let me just quickly talk about one of the methods of worldbuilding they discussed: found design, which to put very simply is when you modify an aspect of the world in order to accommodate or address an issue (or “emergent concern,” as they call it in the video) that’s come up in the course of telling the story. An example would be if while writing your novel about a war between werewolves and humans who hunt them, your beta reader says that the conflict has been done before and that something needs to be added to make the story more interesting (other than a forbidden romance). The something required to spice up the story is the issue or emergent concern, and the integration of whatever you decide to add to the story (a threat to both armies, an original twist to lycanthropy, etc) is the act of found design worldbuilding.

Yeah, it’s a lot to absorb, but whoever said fiction writing was simple?

Anyway, this last method got me thinking, because that’s the method a lot of horror writers use while writing their own stories. As we all know, horror stories are more often than not set in our world, but with modifications to allow for the fantastical things that show up in it. Modifications to allow for something new to be added to the story and its world…sound familiar?

I call this the “build upon” worldbuilding method (if there’s an official name in academic circles, someone please let me know). You take an already-established world, one that many people would already be very familiar with, and add your own twists or details to it so you can tell the story you wish to tell. This is a method used by fanfic writers, anyone dealing with Arthurian lore, and of course, horror writers.

A good example of how this method works is with my own short story, “Car Chasers” (being released in late 2018/early 2019 in The Binge-Watching Cure II anthology from Claren Books). This story is set in a world similar to ours, except ghosts are capable of participating in illegal street races in this story. When I wanted to write that story, I had to not just modify the world so that it was capable of having ghosts (though if you ask me, our world has always had ghosts in it), but I had to add rules to these ghosts, how they interacted with the races/racers and under what conditions they participated in these races. Will all this be evident when the story is finally released? You’ll have to read it to find out, but whether or not it is evident, all that work in designing this world was necessary for it to be written, let alone accepted anywhere for publication.

So as you can see, it’s a handy method to build a world for your story. And if you’re into creating a shared universe across your stories, like Stephen King, HP Lovecraft, or I do, it’s pretty helpful in making that possible. All you need to do is make a slight tweak and you can find ways to connect your various stories together into a fantastic and varied world.

Of course, this isn’t the only method for building a world in horror. But this is the one that I use the most in my stories, and which I’m sure plenty of other horror authors use when they make their stories and their worlds. And it’s not hard to see why: it’s a wonderfully flexible tool for any storyteller, and helps in the act of storytelling every day.

Thanks to Tale Foundry for giving me the idea to write this post, and as always, I’m looking forward to your next video. And I encourage you folks to check out their stuff. From Lovecraft and Junji Ito to Celtic mythology and satire, you’ll find plenty of videos exploring the various aspects of storytelling and how they can be applied.

That’s all for now. I’m off to work a little bit on that novella again. In the meantime, what are your thoughts on worldbuilding in your genre? Any methods that you find helpful? Let’s discuss.

Until next time, pleasant nightmares!