Living the world - where's the restaurant?

I'm rewriting my twenty year old novel Snowbird this week, and finding that I don't know my way about my world anything like well enough.  I'm beginning to wonder how I ever wrote the novel in the first place.

Two-thirds of the action is set on an orbital shipyard. I knew that it was in geostationary orbit above the planet Cathal, and I knew that it had three, differently-sized rings, attached to a central cylinder.  And that it looked like an outsized, multi-levelled snowflake.  But that was almost all. Not much to go on.

Looking back now, I wonder how my characters ever found their way around the shipyard.  All I had as an aide-memoire was a list of functions, organisations, and companies who occupied the spaces.  When I came to re-write the novel I realised that it suffered from my usual problem.  There wasn't enough description, not enough detail of the setting.  And I've realised that one reason why I didn't describe things was because I didn't know what my characters were seeing.

I've got better though.  In my novel Genehunter the characters are travelling from east to west across the continent.  They pass through tropical and temperate biomes, and I needed to know when one ended and the next began.  That allowed me to add touches like Aris waking up cold and needing her heavier jacket because she was out of the tropical biome.

Now when I invent a planet I work out the details of its surface before I begin to write.  But with another old novel, Auroradawn, that plan was only an ink outline of the land masses.  The trouble with that is that I don't know when alpine meadows segue into temperate grassland, and where the snow line is on cold Berenger continent.  So now I've made a more detailed, coloured-in map.  I colour in the various types of vegetation in different shades of green and golds.  I show mountains as dark brown masses. Blue rivers snake through the forests and savannahs, dictating where the settlements should go.

I now make my maps with watercolour pencils, the colours wetted to blend together in a watercolour portrait of my world's surface.  And now I know exactly where the boundaries between biomes are, and I have no excuse for under-describing my setting.

Visualising my brave new worlds

I've just finished reading an SF book by a best selling author whose work I love.  And it confused the hell out of me.  This writer specialises in creating tangled political situations which are often interstellar and multi-species. And often I fail to grasp all the nuances of the situations she creates.

I've always thought that failure to understand everything that was going on was mine, but now I'm not so sure I am at fault.  Because in the book I've just finished she fails to physically describe her settings clearly enough too.

Part of the story is about spacers training in pod-simulators.  From her early descriptions of them I didn't get any clear idea of whether the pods were in zero-g, in vacuum, or whether they were free-floating or somehow tethered.  Later she talks of pods drifting up to the access, which seems to suggest they're floating in zero-g.  Later still she reveals that they're bolted to some kind of track.  And by this time I was really confused.

I'm a little naive in this respect.  I do want a new world sufficiently described to me.  After all, I can only see what the author tells me.  And if they don't describe something enough I get confused. And they run the risk that I get fed up with their book and abandon it.

I've recently realised that one of my faults is that I don't properly describe places.  I'd have such a clear picture of them in my head that I'd just write a passing reference to the scene and move on to the action.  But, of course, the reader has no idea what's in my head.  I need to put it on the page.

This week I've started rewriting my twenty year old novel Snowbird.  Half of the novel is set on an orbital shipyard.  I knew it had three rings, Central, Middle, and Deep Space, and that they were all fixed to a central cylinder.  I'd also made some lists of who and what occupied each ring.  But when I came to rewrite I found that wasn't enough.  Each ring has five levels, and I needed to know what was on each level.  So I made a plan for each level. And now I can describe the place properly.

For planet-bound stories I draw maps of the land.  And I colour in the different habitats with watercolour pencils.  That makes it easier to know if my characters are going north or south, along the base of the mountains, or are close to a river.  And my description has improved a great deal with these in front of me.  Now I'm off to draw diagrams of the starship Chilai herself.