New Dragons, Zombies & Aliens Podcast
The Hero's Journey
This month's podcast is all about story structure. Specifically, the Hero's Journey.
Anna Stephens is the author of the fantasy grimdark Godblind trilogy from the UK. She's come onto the blog to write about what exactly goes into writing a trilogy without going insane.
Note: her post has been edited for clarification.
On Finishing a Trilogy - or Attempting To
I’ve recently completed my debut epic fantasy/grimdark series – the Godblind trilogy.
I say recently – it’s published in the UK and Commonwealth on 5 September, so in fact I finished it at the start of the year and then just had copy-edits and proofreading to complete. That said, it feels as if I’ve only just finished it, and I think that’s mostly because it’s still sitting there in my head, poking my brain with a stick and making unhelpful suggestions like “why don’t you rewrite chapter 7?” and “but what if he lived instead?”
Writing a book is tough – I think we all know that. Writing a trilogy is…well, the logical answer is three times as tough, but it doesn’t quite work out like that. Most days it felt 30 times as tough; others it felt only a third as tough. But one thing is certain: when it comes to that last book, you better get it right. You better find every last one of those dozens of plot threads and throw-away comments and surmises and write them to a satisfying conclusion. Because if you don’t, there will always, always be an eagle-eyed reader who gets in touch – probably publicly on social media – to tell you what you’ve missed.
Aside from the little details, there is, of course, the rather larger issues and challenges of the main and sub-plots, not just the story but all the stories woven through it. Not just the hero’s quest but their character development and inner journey. Not just who wins, but how and why – and what it means for the world and all your named and unnamed secondary characters.
The more I think about it, the more astonished I am that – according to my publishers, at least (review copies are yet to go out at the time of writing this) – I’ve managed to pull it off. But it was not easy.
Getting a publishing contract for my debut novel, Godblind, was a dream come true. Having spent a good 13 years perfecting that – or making it as good as I could; we still went through a few rounds of edits – it was a pretty terrifying proposition to discover I had only nine months to write Darksoul, the sequel. And, in the end, while I did draft it in time, it needed so much work that my publication date was pushed back a few months so that I could work with my editors to refine the plot and pacing issues – of which there were many. Second book syndrome is real and it is ugly.
It’s so ugly, in fact, that when I came to draft book 3, Bloodchild, I had a major crisis of confidence. I’d spent some time convinced I’d torpedoed my writing career before it even got off the ground, that Darksoul had been such a disaster from the publishers’ perspective – not the final product or the sales, but the amount of work they had to do with me – so all of a sudden I decided I had no idea how to end the trilogy. I knew what needed to happen, but I didn’t have a clue how to get there. I was paralyzed with doubt for weeks – and the countdown to my deadline was ticking ever louder in my ears, which didn’t help.
Eventually I started to write and there were days, even weeks, when I galloped along and everything was going brilliantly. Other times when every paragraph had to be dragged kicking and screaming from my brain. It was the difficulty of writing a novel plus the anxiety of finishing the trilogy off with the right impact, the right outcome for the characters, the story, the world.
And when the draft was done, I had exactly zero idea if it was any good. That’s not an exaggeration. It was 143,000 words and I couldn’t have told you if any of them were good. I simply didn’t know: that second book crisis of confidence had lingered into the third and didn’t seem to be inclined to leave. The only way I was going to know if it was good was if someone else told me it was – I didn’t trust my own judgment.
(Aside: do I sound as crazy to you as I do to myself? What a fruitcake.)
So, anyway, what did I do about this crisis?
The biggest thing is that I admitted it. I spoke to my family and a few clever and supportive friends. I ranted about my lack of ability and how I’d ruined my lifelong dream, about how I’d never get another publishing deal. I had a couple of tearful breakdowns.
I also sent it to my agent and got some brilliant feedback and suggestions for changes. It was just the right mix of praise and critique and it told me that I was, in fact, on the right path and it was, after all, a good book. And so I reread the draft and then rewrote it, incorporating a lot of my agent’s feedback and refining the rest of it so that it better fitted in with where I saw the story ending. And it was better. I could see straight away it was better. Knowing that gave me the impetus to send it off the publishers and my editors.
And then it was time to wait again. And while I was waiting, I continued working on a new book. That’s the thing with publishing: you’re constantly leap-frogging between projects. Here I am, doing promo work for Bloodchild (well, this is supposed to be promo, though I suspect I’m just making myself sound like a crazy person) while at the same time waiting to hear back on a new project AND writing the second installment of that new project.
Last year, I was building on the success of Godblind by promoting Darksoul while drafting Bloodchild. The book you’re promoting is always at least one book before the one you’re currently working on; it gets rather confusing at times.
When my first round of edits for Bloodchild came back I was terrified. The email sat in my inbox unopened for four hours while I paced up and down and chewed my nails and contemplated cracking open the gin. It was going to be another Darksoul; I knew it.
Sure, there was work to be done and stuff that needed to be changed, but the edits were extremely positive. Perhaps I had learnt all the lessons inherent in second book syndrome after all. Maybe I really could do this, be a trilogy author!
There were still a couple of small battles to be had over character arcs and the number of living and dead main protagonists (I had to sacrifice one to save another; it was like choosing which of your dogs to give away. Monstrous), but in all, I’d been on the right path and done a bloody good job. And yes, perhaps that sounds arrogant, but one thing I have learnt from all this is to have at least a little faith in myself. It wavers on occasion, but if I don’t think I’m any good, I’ll never get the draft into my agent’s hands, let alone anyone else’s.
Fast forward four months and the book is done: edited; copy-edited; proofread. The next time I see it will be in its final form, out of the chrysalis and spreading its red-soaked wings. And I couldn’t be prouder. It’s been a tough road, but one that I know I’m very privileged to be able to walk. Not everyone gets a publishing deal. Not everyone gets the levels of support I’ve had. Believe me, I know I’m lucky.
The Emotional Fallout
Not that it ends there, of course. Oh, no. That would be too easy.
I’ve spent at least 15 years with these characters. They’ve been, without hyperbole, both friends and family to me – yes, even the terrible, evil ones. And now I have to say goodbye, not just to the ones who didn’t survive to the end of the trilogy, but to all of them. I don’t think it’s too strong to say that once I handed back the proofread and knew that that was it that I went through a period of mourning. (Again, fruitcake. I know).
But to know that I don’t get to hang out with my buddies anymore, that I don’t get to hear Ash’s jokes or Tara’s terrible ideas, Rillirin’s earnest and burgeoning self-belief, Crys’s reluctant heroism, makes me genuinely sad.
I guess the only thing I can do now is wish them well and go on an adventure with some new friends and family. It feels a bit like a betrayal, but as much as I could write their shenanigans and romances and escapades forever, it’s time to move on. Time to challenge myself with something new, something broader and different and other.
Time to get stuck into my next series. I wonder how hard this one will be.
Anna Stephens is the author of the Godblind trilogy, the final book Bloodchild having been released in September of 2019. Translation deals for French, German, Dutch, Polish and Czechoslovakian versions have all been agreed.
A literature graduate from the Open University, Anna loves all things speculative, from books to film to TV, including classic Hammer and Universal horror films, as well as the chameleon genius of David Bowie.
As a beginner in Historical European Martial Arts, with a focus on Italian longsword, and a second Dan black belt in Shotokan Karate, she’s no stranger to the feeling of being punched (or stabbed) in the face, which is more help than you would expect when writing fight scenes.
Minor spoilers for every version of Fullmetal Alchemist.
So you want to write a fantasy story. As a fantasy and sci-fi author, I heartily endorse this.
Fantasy is a huge genre, encompassing a ton of tropes, subgenres, and rules. But a near-universal trait of fantasy is the use of magic. I mean, if a story doesn't have magic, can it even really be considered fantasy?
But writing magic is a bit daunting. So much has already been done, how do you stand out? What rules should you put in your magic system to make it interesting but not constricting? How do you make it fit with the rest of your world?
Those are all big questions, and each of them probably deserves its own blog post. But we're going to tackle all of them here, so buckle up.
Hard vs. Soft
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And before you ask: yes. Twenty plus books on the NYT Bestseller list and she still gets rejection letters.
And that's okay! Rejection is a part of life, after all. It's just a slightly bigger part of a writer's life. So get comfortable with it, because this relationship is going to stick around for a while.
The first thing you need to do: stay calm.
Think of finding a publisher as house-hunting. There's a lot of time spent online doing research, you're probably going to want to find an agent to act as your guide, and there's going to be a lot of rejection. Sometimes it's because you don't like the house. Sometimes someone else swoops in right before you can sign the paperwork. Sometimes you find out you can't afford it.
Feel free to grumble, complain, and vent. Then once you've got that off your chest, go back to the computer and find another publisher to submit your manuscript to.
Remember that it's nothing personal.
How do editors decide which 'scripts make the cut? Well, that's a little complicated. I'm no editor myself, but here's what I've heard second-hand:
1) They want what's going to sell.
Editors want to read a good book, for sure, but quality isn't that important. At least, not in the way it is to us artsy-brained writers. You could submit the most intense, insane, engaging novel, but if the editor doesn't think their publishing house is going to be able to sell a lot of copies, you're going to get rejected.
A lot of it has to do with the market. Remember when vampire stories were freaking everywhere? The audience for that was huge. But now? Not so much.
It's all about supply and demand. Editors look for types of stories that are in high demand, whether that's grimdark/realism or more light-hearted fantasy. So long as it fits in with the needs of their publishing house. Speaking of which...
2) They want manuscripts that are best for their publishing house.
This is why researching a publisher before you submit anything is so important. Let's say you have a post-apocalyptic YA novel. Would you submit that to a publishing house that specializes in historical dramas? Of course not. Genre is very important. Just as writers specialize in specific genres and stories to tell, publishers specialize in specific genres and stories to sell.
So the historical drama house rejected your 'script. Shocker. But that's okay! You've found another publishing house, this one specializing in YA novels that have a lot of action, adventure, and cute romantic subplots, all of which your book has in abundance. You submit it and think, They're going to love this!
Aaand you get rejected.
But why? You've matched the genre to the right house, and even the type of story they like.
Well, the thing is, this publishing house has been doing a lot of post-apocalyptic books. They don't want their readers to get bored, so right now they're looking for YA urban fantasy novels.
Does it suck? Yes, it does. And getting rejection after rejection does wear on you. This is why finding a literary agent is so important: they can help you side-step a lot of these issues. You'll still run into them, but not as much.
Do not give up.
One of the publishing houses I've worked with in the past, Less Than Three Press (I wrote a novella for them that got in one of their anthologies), recently came out with a call for submissions. They wanted stories about shifters--i.e. werewolves, werecats, etc.--with disabilities. Any disability. And since they specialize in queer fiction, several major characters had to be a part of the LGBTQ+ community.
I was all over this. I've spent the last two years working as a community support staff--that is, a job coach and PCA for people with disabilities. I'm always down to write about characters in marginalized communities. And I've worked with LT3 before and knew that not only do they pay well, they're also very competent.
Now unfortunately, these calls for submissions have deadlines. Although I heard about it relatively early, there was still only two months for me to write, and I work two other jobs, plus this blog and YouTube channel. Nevertheless, I managed to crank out a fun story about an ordinary, asexual human trying to survive college who finds out that the girl with social anxiety that he has a crush on is a werewolf, and she's playing cat and mouse with a hunter a god complex.
I sent it in the day of the deadline and went to take a long nap.
About a month later I got an email from the editor.
It was a rejection letter.
BUT. But, this rejection letter had something so few of its brothers have. It had constructive criticism. The editor found two glaring flaws that barred it from acceptance, suggested that I fix them now that I wasn't adhering to any type of deadline, and told me to re-submit as a general submission.
Now remember: editors don't have time to do this kind of thing. So when they do take the time to offer some feedback on your manuscript, you shut your mouth and listen.
I took a few more months to fix the story, going over not just the problems the editor pointed out, but others that I found and just didn't have time to address with that pesky deadline. Once I was satisfied, I re-submitted.
About a month later I got an email from the editor.
It was a contract!
So now the good people at LT3 are editing my 'script, and soon enough I'll be bugging you guys with promos about my new ebook tentatively titled Hunted.
Rejection letters suck. They can wear on your self-esteem like a river cutting a ravine. But they're also what separates the "aspiring authors" from the actual authors. Take criticism seriously and apply it to your story. Keep looking for agents. Keep submitting to publishing houses. Just keep going.
However, a lot of writers don't know how to pull this off. Either they're too heavy-handed with the murder, or don't murder enough, or they do kill a bunch of characters but then they bring them all back in the next chapter, making the whole thing moot and their readers feeling bored and cheated.
Part of the difficulty with character deaths and resurrections is that it's been used so many times by so many authors that it can be hard to convince readers that a character is actually dead--even if they really are! But that's just one piece of the puzzle.
Another issue is that authors often refuse to kill their characters when they really should, usually because they're too emotionally attached to their characters or want an unrealistically happy ending where everyone lives happily ever after, screw the fact that they started the series with a string of excellently written deaths. This is a problem I had with the otherwise very good Throne of Glass series: Sarah J. Maas had a cast of a dozen major characters in the last book, Kingdom of Ash, and she should have killed at least half of them. Instead she knocked out a handful of minor characters, the impact of those deaths lessened because of the sheer number of survivors. Basically, the "hard-won" victory felt too easy.
So don't be afraid to do kill some characters. You just have to make sure you're doing it right and avoiding the common pitfalls. There's a whole jungle of obstacles involved in both convincingly (and correctly) killing off characters, and in bringing them back. So buckle up, because today we're going to be talking about murder.
Killing Off Characters
One of the biggest pitfalls in killing off characters is doing it purely for the shock value. This is wrong for a number of reasons. The first is that it's been done before. Worse, readers will recognize when a character is killed purely for shock value and stop reading, because they don't want to be emotionally manipulated like that. It draws too much attention to the hand of the writer.
And I get the temptation to do this. I've done it myself. My novella Homestead Hunts involves a cannibal society, and I killed off two major characters in the first act to help establish this. One of them had to go for story and plot purposes, but the other did not. It was purely shock value, and looking back, I'm not sure I'd kill that character--or if I did I'd do it differently.
The second reason, and the biggest problem, is that characters who are killed off purely for the shock value aren't actually characters. They're rarely well-written, because literally their only goal in the story is to die. When they're badly written, readers don't care whether they live or die, and so the shock factor the author was going for in killing them is dramatically reduced. It destroys the whole point of killing them in the first place.
Some people think George R. R. Martin kills so many characters for shock value. But that's not true at all. Each character that dies is killed for a reason. Usually it's some sort of character flaw or a fatal mistake (or a string of fatal mistakes, in the case of Robb Stark). Other times they were outmaneuvered by other characters (i.e. Lady Olenna, the Queen of Thorns). Major character deaths are also used as plot points. While the first skirmishes of the War of Five Kings started with Catelyn kidnapping Tyrion, the actual start of the war was the execution of Ned Stark. If he had lived, Robb would have turned the northern armies back, and while things certainly would have been salty between the Starks and the Lannisters for a while, there wouldn't have been a war.
This is another thing to consider when killing off a character, either for real or for a fake-out: how do the other characters react? Sometimes the character dying will be well-written, but the aftermath will be glossed over. If this is supposed to be a beloved character with friends and family, then we need to see those friends and family mourn. How do they deal with that person's death? Do they go on a quest for vengeance that ultimately leads to the slaughter of thousands? Completely break down? Actually process it in a healthy way and then get blind-sighted and feel betrayed when the death turns out to be a fake-out? People mourn in all sorts of ways, so you get to play around here.
But the first thing you need to consider when killing off a character is if they actually have character, even if they're only going to be around for a handful of chapters. Are the readers emotionally invested in this character's life? Do they care if they live or die? Do the other characters care if they live or die and will they actually mourn the death or shrug it off? If they don't, then you have a major problem with that character that needs to be fixed before you do anything else.
But let's say your readers do care about your character. They're invested in their cause and want to see them succeed. The second question you have to ask yourself is Why am I killing this character? If it's purely for shock value, then you need to reconsider. Readers didn't care for that trick when it was new, and it's been used to death already. Instead, consider why, in universe, this character would die. Do they have a flaw that other characters can exploit or that you're trying to explore in your writing? Is there a major plot point coming up that would turn out differently if the character were alive? Is this character's life a natural consequence of the events in your book (like a war), or the consequence of another character's wrath/ignorance/fault? If the answer to any of these questions is yes, then congratulations! You have a legitimate reason to kill your character.
Now the question is how. This one is tricky, and honestly not something that can be summed up in a neat little blog post. How you kill a character varies from character to character and story to story. It's a delicate balance between dragging it out for so long that the audience rolls their eyes and mutters "Get on with it" (i.e. Han Solo), and glossing over it completely, sometimes by killing them off-screen. This is where editors and trusted beta readers come in handy. But for some honest advice? Just do what feels natural.
I know Avengers: Endgame hasn't come out yet, but we all know that everyone who got dusted in Infinity War is coming back, and not just because we have previews for the next Spider-Man movie and confirmed deals for Doctor Strange and Black Panther sequels. A lot of it has to do with the genre. The only person who ever stays dead in the superhero world is Ben Parker. Everyone else either has a resurrection ability (Loki), enjoys faking their death for shits and giggles (Loki again), or has a hand-wavy serum that allows them to endure a ton of punishment that would be fatal to anyone else (Bucky). There's also cloning, time travel, magic, glowing purple plants, mutant abilities, and a plethora of other methods, each one whackier than the last.
So if we all know that Spider-Man, the Guardians, T'Challa, and everyone else will be coming back next week, why did Marvel kill them off in the first place? Well, for starters, it's an emotional gut-punch. Over the last ten years we've become emotionally attached to these characters, which the writers have no suddenly taken away. We're now extremely invested in seeing those characters come back, which is why we're all going to be throwing our money at the nearest movie theater and sitting in the dark for three hours straight. The other reason is for the arcs of the surviving characters. This is the first time the Avengers have well and truly lost. Every other time they've fought, even if they were at each other's throats two minutes ago, they've been able to pull themselves together and defeat evil at the last minute. Except this time, when it mattered the most, they failed. They're going to have to come to terms with that before going anywhere near Thanos.
But the main reason audiences tend to call the writers' bluff when it comes to fake-out deaths is more than just the established rules of the genre. The fact is, characters who die and are slotted to be resurrected tend to either a) be too important to actually die, and/or b) have incomplete story arcs. No one wants to get caught up in the trials and mysteries of a character, only to have that character die before they can finish. Readers will just get pissed. It's why everybody knew that Jon Snow was going to be resurrected in season six of Game of Thrones. He was simply too important to the story, and R+L=J was too big of a mystery to leave unsolved.
Usually, the best way to convincingly kill off--or make readers think you're going to kill off--your character is to make it look like their arc is complete, or at least that another character will be able to pick it up and continue. Then, when the character is revived/revealed to not be dead at all, you get to introduce a new arc for them.
If they really were dead and magically resurrected, what are the psychological implications? How has the experience affected their religious beliefs and that of those around them? Does it make them more compassionate and cautious, or do they go the other way and become reckless and apathetic, or even full-on evil like Pet Sematary?
If they were just playing dead and came back without warning, how does this affect their relationship with the friends and family they lied to? What are the sacrifices they made to pull off the fake death? Was it worth it?
While death and near-death experiences are very common--both in fiction and in real life--it's no small thing. You can't just gloss over it; it leaves an impact. Which means it's a new conflict for characters to grapple with, and conflict is a good writer's playground.
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Guest Post by JD Byrne
Wait, what? I mean, that’s pretty counterintuitive, isn’t it. The whole point of fantasy is that you can make up anything you want. Whereas its close relation science fiction has to deal with, well, science, fantasy is only limited by the imagination of its writer. So why worry about it being realistic?
One reason is that it’s practical. Unless you’re writing something really avant garde and creating a different world from the ground up, even the most fantastic stories take place in a world that looks a lot like ours. Middle Earth may have hobbits, dwarves, and orcs, but it still has a world that works basically like ours - people need to eat and sleep, have to figure out ways to get from one point to another, and figure out how to get along with each other. All of those things are rooted in our experiences of our real world. After all, you can’t have a second breakfast without a concept of breakfast, right?
Another reason is that details matter when it comes to the most important part of speculative fiction - suspension of disbelief. In fantasy, more so than science fiction, the author is basically asking readers to trust them, to come along with whatever weird stuff is going to happen just because. Still, there are things, little details, in any story that can kick a reader right out of a state of disbelief (I’ve written before about what I call “flying snowman” moments, after a John Scalzi blog post). Maybe your fantasy heroes are riding horses into battle after they rode 100 miles in two days without any mention of food, water, or rest. For some readers that might kick them out of the story.
It’s not that you can’t have something in your fantasy world that does the job of a horse but doesn’t need rest or nutrition, but you have to build that up on its own. There’s a difference between getting a fantasy element “wrong” - if such a thing is possible - and getting mundane real world details that are still relevant to your world wrong. A two-foot tall pixie probably can’t wield a five-foot long steel sword, but who says the sword has to be made of steel? It doesn’t, but you need to lay the foundation for that. It’s sort of like the old saw about learning the rules before you can break them - you need to know why you’re doing it differently and consider whether it’s worth it.
While research is necessary to write good fantasy, it doesn’t have to be a chore. In fact, sometimes doing the research can open ways to deepen your world and help make the story better. Let me share a couple of examples where that’s happened to me.
In my novel The Water Road a pair of characters are out in the woods searching for a mythical city in the trees when they’re set upon by bandits. One of them, Rurek, takes an arrow in the leg from the bandit leader, Spider. I never intended the wound to be fatal, so once it was in Rurek’s leg I had to figure out how to get it out. I’m so glad I did some research rather than just going with my gut. Turns out how to deal with an arrow wound is largely dependent on the kind of arrowhead is involved and there are some really nasty ones out there, ones designed to inflict maximum damage if taken out incorrectly.
That made me think - what kind of arrow would a guy like Spider use? It made me drill deeper into the character than I had initially. He only shows up for this scene, after all, and was hardly that important in the grand scheme of things. But using an arrow designed to do maximum harm, particularly to someone who would react as I had (pull the damned thing out!), is precisely the kind of guy he was. The research allowed me to complicate Rurek’s situation even further (and allow a new, important character, to show some knowledge and skill) and give some idea of just what an evil person Spider was.
In my short story “The Destiny Engine” (which you can only get by signing up for my mailing list), the main character has a massive steampunk contraption that, he says, can see a person’s other possible futures. He has to input data into the machine at some point, so I initially had him sitting down at a typewriter-style keyboard. A beta reader wondered whether such keyboards were in wide use in late 19th-century Wyoming where the story was set.
I looked into it and, as it turns out, keyboards were a thing back then, but they hadn’t standardized into anything like we know today. Instead, there was a wide range of size, design, and functionality. I found a picture of one that was basically a brass globe with keys sticking out the top on long stalks, so typing on it looked kind of like giving a robot a scalp massage. So while it wouldn’t have been wrong to put my main character in that story in front of something that looked like a typewriter, how much cooler was it to have him manipulating a brass robot skull!
Since research is important for writing fantasy, what’s the best way to go about it? There are several options, depending on what it is you need to know.
First, you can draw on your own knowledge of whatever area it is you need to research. That’s kind of cheating, but a knowledge base is a knowledge base, regardless of where it comes from. When it came time to write the battle scenes in The Endless Hills (the second part of The Water Road trilogy) I fell back on the reading I’d done my entire life about battles from various conflicts in the 18th and 19th centuries. I looked up a couple of things, but it was to confirm more than learn from scratch.
This is as good a place as any to amplify a piece of advice I’ve heard almost every writer give - that to be a good writer, you need to be a serious reader. I’d expand that to say it’s important for writers of fiction to read a lot of nonfiction, too, to learn about the world around them. Not only do you broaden that internal knowledge base you can use while writing, sometimes history or science or whatever can provide some pretty good fuel for future stories.
A second good place to go for research is other writers. Writers each bring their own experience and knowledge to the table, which can be a powerful resource to tap into. The example I gave above of needing to know how to get an arrow out? When I went to Google to find the answer the first result it returned to was to a subsection of a writers’ forum where people shared their expertise. Writers tend to be a helpful bunch, so make the most of what those around you know.
Third, you can take advantage of the knowledge of experts in whatever field you’re looking into. Sci-fi writers routinely consult with physicists, rocket scientists, and the like in order to get the science in their stories right (or at least plausible). Fantasy writers can do the same. Setting a story in a world that’s based on feudal Japan? Find the nearest college or university that teaches Japanese history and reach out to the professor. They might be happy to talk to someone about their subject who is writing a novel about it.
Finally, when it comes to research, there’s always the option to hit the books, whether literally or electronically. Google is great, but be skeptical of sources and weigh competing information carefully. Books are even better, if you’ve got access to a good library somewhere close. You can even go and spent time in places that inspire the world you’re building. Want to set a story in a castle - go visit one! It’s easier said than done, of course, but it can be done.
Research sounds a lot like work and sometimes it is. Sometimes you’ll find out things that torpedo an idea or a particular story element. More often, you’ll shore up your own world, deepen you characters, and maybe even find something to spark your creativity even further. It’s worth the effort and your readers will thank you.
The first Dragons, Zombies and Aliens blog was started in 2015. Somewhere between college coursework, paying rent with door-to-door sales, and keeping up with my sorority sisters, I wrote reviews, rants and commentaries on books, TV shows, and movies. Now, this blog has moved, improved, and the sky's the limit!