World Blip – Races

A while back I talked about diversity (and for several weeks after everything tied back to it because it’s a fabulous subject, for the most part) and today I wanted to return to it. 

One of the many ways you can be diverse in your writing is in the area of races and ethnic groups.

Now, I’m not here to blow the “write from other ethnic and racial viewpoints” trumpet because I find that trumpet to be rather shrill and obnoxious and blown too often, nowadays.

Instead, I’m here to show you how.

The Power of Diversity

My only trumpet blowing will be this: diversity is realistic, and therefore should make sense to include in your novel.

Not as a checklist (see my previous post), but as a genuine realization of “oh, these is what reality looks like”.

The specific type of “races” I’m going to discuss today is the “otherworldly” kind. You know, non-human races. When you write fantasy and science fiction (and paranormal fiction), you find yourself standing in front of an open door that leads to an unlimited number of options, any of which can lead you to diversity, should you so choose.

How?

Well, let’s look.

A Taste of Fantasy

We’ve all read that one book or seen that one TV show that deals with extraterrestrials. You know, Doctor Who, Marvel, The War of the Worlds, Enchantress from the Stars, A Wrinkle in Time, and so forth.

These people (often non-humanoid) can be good or evil or neither or both, and they’re rarely a bad addition to the story.

Moreover, they allow you to create this sense of diversity without the sense of a “checklist cast”. And that is true diversity. When no one even notices it consciously, it means you’ve done your job.

For instance, take the Marvel movie Guardians of the Galaxy. This is one of my favorite Marvel movies for many reasons, but take a look at that cast.

Sure, it features a white male protagonist. But take one peek beyond him, one little look over his shoulder.

Yup. There’s quite the diverse cast back there. I mean, the man’s got a green lady, a raccoon, a red guy, and a tree for a supporting cast and a blue-and-black baddie to face off with.

This single movie has more races (and thereby racial diversity) than all the other marvel movies will admit to. Heck, it’s got more diversity than most any movie out there.

And it has a good story, clever dialogue, and well-developed themes. None of which are dependent on the diversity of race and ethnicity. They are enhanced by it, nothing more.

So.

Why not use races to enhance your story? Not only will they provide your story with some diversity, they can and will help bring your world to life. A setting that is new and real is more than just the latest magic system or government oppression.

It’s the people.

So let’s talk about that.

Creating a People

Worldbuilding is hard, sometimes. Even when it’s fun.

So how do you create a race?

Well, I thought I’d use one of my stories as an example… as I’ve done for the past few weeks.

My current project is a fantasy. If you didn’t know that… you clearly haven’t read the last several blog posts. I’ve been developing the world and plot for about two years now, and the first book is almost complete. Agram Awakens has four main races: human, darlo, melin, and dubin. I’ve created a few other races, but they don’t come in until later in the series. So yes.

{A slight note: when you create races, I would encourage you to avoid capitalizing them. It makes them stand out from “humans” in an awkward and amateur way. So if you capitalize the names of your other races in the narrative, do the same for Humans. *This has been your prose note, thanking you for not being amateur.*}

The four races I'm going to show you are humanoid; that is to say, they are bipedal mammals with human-like features.

With, of course, a few differences. In fact, they’re so similar that you could almost say that these other races are merely new ethnicities of human, as Caucasian and African and Oriental are all differing ethnicities of human.

Putting wordplay aside, these four races are as such:

Humans: well, humans are basically humans in my book… there are the various ethnicities of humans (AKA there’s a bunch of black guys at one point, and a bunch of white guys at another point, and so forth), and their appearance is more relative to where those ethnicities live than anything else. So.

Darlo: These fellows are marked by distinct scale-like patterns on their skin. If the edge of the “scale” is black, the inside is white. And vise versa. Basically, they have skin like a serpent, but the scales aren’t actually scales. Smh.

Meanwhile, their eyes are more likely to be metallic colors (gold, bright violet, metallic green, amber, etc.) and they have an extra finger on their right hand. Darlo, thanks to their genes, tend to be very familial people, and very loud. On average, their taller than their human counterparts, and more likely to smile, revealing sharper teeth.

Melin: this people group is, as a whole, very short. They’re quite pale, their skin darkening when exposed to sun. They are naturally quieter than humans. Their most distinctive feature is their eyes, which change according to the season. For instance, all melin have yellow eyes during the autumn, which slowly change to blue as winter comes on (it is speculated that their eyes change as the tilt of the earth and the angle of sunlight coincide with the feeling of “seasons”, since an melin’s eyes will change color when passing the equator).

Dubin: this group are very secretive, and it’s claimed that they can communicate telepathically. While this is unconfirmed, they are indeed very quiet and speak rarely to non-dubin. Their skin is reddish – like a brick – and very tough. Their pupils are similar to a cat’s. They tend to have little hair, and those with excessive amounts of hair are considered “rebels”.

Well…

I figured an example would be the best way to show you what developing a race entails, but let me go on:

When you develop a race, it can’t be for its own sake. Don’t create a race to create a race. It has to fit into your story world. If your world doesn’t need a race, why do you have one?

I wrestled with that question for quite a while: why?

It’s the most important question in writing, whether you’re developing character backstory or your setting or your plot.

Why?

For me, I created these races for the themes I could explore. I intend to deal with some heavy themes, over time. Racism is one of them, and so is hypocrisy. Through these races (I found that humanity alone is a cliché way to explore such an issue), I had complete freedom to create and explore those themes without the judgement of others on me for my choices in that. If I have a black human treat a darlo horribly because of the darlo’s race, there won’t be riots in the street.

If I have a dubin hate white humans for their race, no one will sue me.

So that’s one reason.

In addition, the idea of four main races(there are four minor races) also ties together several of the key religions in my world and creates a sense of continuity.

This also allows me to create diversity in my cast, as I have three humans, two darlo, and a melin as my main characters (if you’re curious about the gender diversity as well, two of the three most important main characters are female and the rest of the main characters are male).

So. Why do you have races? Why those races?

They’re important questions, and the answers can result in fantastic stories.

In fact, I’d like to hear them.

Do you have any races in your novels? What makes them unique? Why did you decide to include them in your novel? Leave a comment and share!

Related Posts:

For the Sake of Diversity…

Dark and Light and Shifting Shadow

Backstory, Part One

Plots, Part One

The Two Questions of Worldbuilding

When Your World is Too Big

The Importance of Color

Stagnant Worlds – Unchanging Fantasies

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Saga and Simpletons

(Series and Standalones, Part 1)

A few weeks ago I talked about trilogies and sequels and why your book doesn’t need one.

Today (and next Friday), I’d like to look at the other side: why should you write a series? And more importantly, how?

I’ve read a lot of series, from three book trilogies like The Hunger Games to fourteen book series like The Wheel of Time. Some do a better job than others (such as Harry Potter vs. Divergent) and there are lessons to be learned from them all.

Why a Series?

This is the easiest question to answer. But first the reverse: you should not write a series because of the characters alone.

Well… looks like that takes out half of the series ideas, right?

Here’s the deal: very, very few characters are strong enough to make an entire book series on them worth it. A standalone book? Sure, why not. Even a weak character with a single book can be made up for by good setting and well-written plot.

But four or five or seven books?

It takes more than an eccentric and/or adorable cast.

For more on that, check the link to that post from a few weeks ago.

Now.

The why is a bit harder to describe.

First, it takes a lot of story to create three or four books. You need enough subplots that you can make /something/ resolve in each books, and you need a goal that is hard enough to attain. If the goal is easy: maybe traveling one week to a mountain and then finding a cave with treasure inside it, that isn’t enough.

Not nearly enough.

Your story needs to have goals so lofty and difficult that no one could do it in one book.

Series should come out of circumstance, generally speaking. When your story exceeds one pair of covers, that’s when you need a series.

For instance, my current project, Agram Awakens, has grown to – at this moment – a thirteen book series. I’m in doubt of that number, because I’m not sure it will take that long. However, the first book is projected to be more than 200,000 words long, there are six main characters, and there are more villains than I know what to do with.

So.

I make a series.

How in a Steampunk World do you Write a Series?

It’s hard to visualize the outline of a series.

So maybe we should just not.

Or… maybe we should.

I wrote a while back on why outlines aren’t evil, and that was for your average novel.

If outlines aren’t evil for single books, they’re necessary evils for series. Repeat after me: series need outlines.

Got it?

If you don’t outline, you’ll end up with more plot holes than you’ll know what to do with. So choose to outline.

Secondly, choose to go small. If you’re going to write a series, write something small. Four, maybe five books at most. Thirteen book series are hard. And they take years to write. My first book has taken me five months to write, so far, and I spent two years before that developing and plotting. I doubt I’ll finish this series this side of my thirtieth birthday, because of all the stuff that’s about to happen to me (AKA college and adult life where writing isn’t my main occupation).

Wow I’m gonna be old.

…

Anyway. A four book series could easily be finished in two years, right? Assuming you don’t have a full-time job or full-time school.

Regardless, starting small can give you good experience. Even just attempting to write a two-book “series” can create for you that atmosphere of “wow I have to OUTLINE and PLAN and be PREPARED and write ALL THE WORDS” that a five or ten book series creates.

Baby steps, so to speak.

Next week, I’ll actually give you tips for writing a series, but for now, have some vague ideas:

Pick a Story you Love: If you don’t love the story, you won’t want to write about it for the span of four books. Trust me, I know.  When you write a series, you need to be in love with the characters and the plot and the setting in equal measure.

Outline, outline, outline: I know I’ve already said this, but I wanted to repeat: without an outline, your series will fail. I would suggest you do at least two of these:

-A general outline. This should be a list of all the books in the series (in order, of course), with a brief (two-three sentences) description of the book. This will give you “the big picture”. When you need to know what your series is about, this is what you go to. This is where you realize “oh, I need this to happen, so [this] book needs to have a plot change [here].”

-A character outline. I also like to call this the “people arc” outline. If your book has more than one point of view, this is especially important. It’s a set of pages, each dedicated to a different character. On each page is a list of the books and a short (in general, use two-three sentences on your outlines) description of what that character does in the novel. For instance, a character might have this outline:

“Book One: She is released from prison and is recruited by the government for her skills. Introduced and befriends other main characters.

Book Two: Spends much of her time in Africa, being a lonely soul and making friends with hyenas and small children because her helicopter crashed… everyone is searching for her.”

And so forth.

-A plot outline. Much like the last one, I call this a “plot arc” outline. This is where you list subplots (including love interest subplots, you helpless romantic) by book. It’s best to give each subplot a name (like “Julia and Bob 5ever” or “Find the Map”). Then, label where each subplot starts, the books it is continued through, and which book it is resolved in. If you can, relate them back to the main plot that ties the whole series together.

-Don’t give up. A series takes time to write. If you don’t have it finished by the time you expected, that’s okay.

It takes time to make a masterpiece, right?

Come back next week in which I’ll actually do useful things like give you suggestions on how to do the thing.

Related Posts:

Sequels and Threequels

Why Outlines Aren’t Evil

Plots Part 5: “Bringing it All Together”

Extending the Conflict

Solving Impossible Conflicts

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10 Reasons to Stop reaching for Perfection in Your Writing (Heidi Salzman)

Prose Blip – The Dilemma of Adverbs

A lot of writers hate adverbs.

It’s a fairly [see what I did there] recent fashion statement to say you’re abolishing every adverb from your manuscript.

In some ways, it make sense. After all, adverbs literally do nothing to make most sentences better. Very, very few of them do… anything.

Yes I keep demonstrating that fact.

But at the same time…

I disagree with the “eradication” of adverbs.

The Problem with Adverbs

In some ways, the argument against these words makes sense. I mean, most of them are useless words. They’re excess. We don’t NEED to use them. This quote is often used by this argument:

    Omit needless words. Vigorous writing is concise. A sentence should contain no unnecessary words, a paragraph no unnecessary sentences, for the same reason that a drawing should have no unnecessary lines and a machine no unnecessary parts.

    —William Strunk Jr. in Elements of Style

Rather than simply taking this quote at face value, I would encourage you to actually read Elements of Style and decide for yourself whether it appears to be trying to reach authors of novels or authors of essays.

Would you just look at how many adverbs I’m using? I’m setting an awful example, if they are indeed that horrid to use. You really shouldn’t be listening to me, should you?

After all, I appear to be setting the devil’s example.

Well… let me finish, yeah?

The Problem with the Problem with Adverbs

Sure, an adverb can point to a weak verb. At that point, I will concede: an adverb that props up a weak verb is bad. The point of a verb is to be as strong as it can be so that you don’t have to stabilize it with adverbs.

At the same time, there is nothing – I repeat: nothing – wrong with the word “simply” or the word “very”. I find no moral, ethical, or scientific evidence which states “thou shalt not use adverbs”.

“But Aidan if all the authors say don’t, will the publishers take a book with adverbs?”

Short answer: yes, they will take your book if it has adverbs.

Want proof? Go find a book on your shelf that was published in the last ten years and has sold thousands and thousands of copies. (A few examples: The Hunger Games, The Maze Runner, The Way of Kings, Harry Potter.) Oh, and grab one from at least eighty years ago (Lord of the Rings being a great example).

Flip through it. You’ll find two things, both of which are constantly being preached against: passive voice and adverbs.

WHAT?

Published authors use passive voice and adverbs?

I can hear the riots starting.

Here’s the deal: the only thing wrong with an adverb is the verb. Huh. That’s weird, the only thing wrong with an adverb is something that isn’t even an adverb.

When your verb is weak, your adverb is bad.

When your verb is not weak, your adverb is not bad.

Sure, it may be unnecessary. But is it?

If we are, indeed, to “omit needless words”, then aren’t adverbs sometimes better?

After all, take this sentence: “she brushed her fingers against his arm, her touch so soft that it made him shiver.”

First, that’s an awful sentence. I apologize on behalf of that sentence.

Second, what happens if I condense it using one adverb? “She brushed her fingers gently against his arm. It made him shiver.”

Now, it’s still awful, but look: I omitted five words and added one, but both sentences convey the same thing. You’ll notice my verb – brushed – is strong. I could have used “touched”, and that’s weaker by comparison.

Adverbs are not the source of all evil.

They’re the source of one evil. And they do not require an all-consuming purge of your manuscript. Sure, go ahead, get rid of the ones you don’t need. I usually do that. Except in this blog post to prove a silly point. Yes, I’ve been purposefully jamming in as many frilly adverbs in as I can.

You’re welcome.

Related Posts:

Bringing Words to Life

“Looming” Descriptions

The Delicate Art of Was

Featured Post:

10 Reasons to Stop reaching for Perfection in Your Writing (Heidi Salzman)