People often say my novels aren’t story-like and advise me to change my style. Instead, let’s examine the difference between writing a story and creating a world. Recently, I watched several interviews with Director Gunn, who said something like this:
“Yes, I think these are all interconnected stories. But this always makes people ask, who’s the big villain? You know, does a cinematic universe have a big villain? Yes. But it’s not just about—I’m telling a story about this big, bad guy. No, this is a coherent universe. We’re building worlds. We’re not telling stories. We’re not writing a story with a beginning and an end. We’re creating a universe that people can enter and experience. In that regard, it’s more like Star Wars than Marvel.”
This passage excellently explains the difference between stories and worlds. Stories rely on narrative elements—characters, locations, events—and need beginnings and endings. For worlds, consistency and immersiveness matter more than story alone.
Moreover, we’re creating an experience that invites people to enter and play within the world’s rules. If you create an alternate reality, commit fully; a half-alternate world breaks immersion.
I knew very early on that I wanted to create worlds. I started creating worlds when I was 13. I still remember spending an entire evening with a few friends drawing out a map of the continent of Beyond Realms, filled with English place names—some of which I even carried over into “The Computational Universe.” The book that most profoundly influenced my world-building was, naturally, The Lord of the Rings. I finished reading the novel in fourth grade and was deeply fascinated by it.
Why is creating worlds so important to me? It’s actually somewhat like The Sims game. In The Sims, the player takes on the role of God. Creating worlds is like playing the role of a creator deity. In the process of world creation, we occasionally glimpse the design behind our own world’s creation (I’m an atheist). This design helps us understand our world more deeply.
While my worlds aren’t mirrors of reality, creating them deepens my understanding of our own. That is the unique charm and fascination of world creation.
Many people don’t understand my impulse to create the world. Some believe stories work best on Earth for relatability, but today’s readers, who grew up in immersive games, crave worlds; otherwise, they may lose interest.
Many Chinese science fiction authors speculate about readers instead of expressing themselves, resulting in bland works.
I believe science fiction readers are normal adults, and I think they’ll enjoy a self-consistent world.
Let me conclude with a few paragraphs I once wrote:
“Why do you need to spend time on worldbuilding? Obviously, you want your work—whether novel, video, or game—to become a living world. Just like World of Warcraft, which is often referred to as a world, not just a game. In World of Warcraft, every action a character takes could affect the fate of the entire world.
Many people will tell you not to become a setting fanatic from the start, not to spend lots of time researching this fictional world, and to write first, regardless of how it turns out. I oppose this view—they usually say this because they don’t do their own worldbuilding. Just as authors who don’t outline will urge all other authors to follow their lead and not outline.
Worldbuilding faces even more opposition than outlining. Opponents will argue that worldviews naturally evolve during the process of story writing. This approach makes the world seem thin. My suggestion is: if you, like me, love the process of creating worlds—such as enjoying building in The Sims—feel free to become the architect of your own world.
Because only by having a deep understanding of the world can you write vivid, lifelike details. And it’s precisely these details that distinguish your work from others’, beyond just your writing style.”
