Many are blaming this “slow extinction” on modern societies disconnect to nature. After all, not everyone spends their days outside, so they might not notice mice, birds, or even the insects at their feet. If they do not think about animals in their daily life, why would they think about them while writing?
That is the theory, at least.
It is worthwhile pointing out what several other writers and readers are; there are plenty of animals in children’s fiction. That is true, but what about young adult to adult fantasy? Since that is what I personally write, that is what I wanted to talk about.
Just going off what books I think of first, it seems like often in fantasy novels, the only prey animals (like deer, squirrels, or rabbits) that we see are after nearly always during or after they are hunted. Then there is the complete lack of mosquitos, leaches, biting ants, and other annoying creatures.
Sometimes, there is a mention of the sound of birds singing, but rarely ever are there any details of the birds or what they are doing. Where are the ducks and swans on the lakes? Where are the birds building nests?
Now you may be going “What is the point? Why should I care?” and I get that, but by eliminating these creatures, your novels could be losing a sense of realism.
For example, in Stephen Kings The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon — which I argue is a light fantasy story, not a horror story — has a girl is lost in the woods and stalked by a creature. Interestingly, even most survival books fail to mention animals apart from for food, but Stephen King did not do that. He had deer, water bugs skittering across ponds, and even wasps that attack the main character. This added a sense of reality to the novel. It was not just a forest with some trees and plants, it was a forest filled with life, and that can be dangerous for anyone, let alone a young girl.
So, go ahead, raise the mood with your characters. If they are miserable, make them more so by having the mosquitos bite at them day and night or have them step in a anthill. If they are happy, they could watch a mother bird feeding its young or a swan rubbing necks with its partner.
Adding more hints of nature could not only amplify the mood, but it could also make your forests seem more real.
The article discusses xenofiction as an answer to changing our consciousness about animals, but my thoughts are different.
I truly have noticed, even in the past couple decades, a decline in “natural” worldbuilding. There is less and less attempt on the part of authors to include a rich ecology in their world, and less faith in readers’ ability to be interested in it
It’s not just animals, but plants, weather, every aspect of the natural world
There is something deeply sad about this that reflects a lot of real world issues. There is a loss of biodiversity. There is a sharp decrease of people going outside, because there’s less places to go and it’s harder to exist in those places as a teenager or a kid. There’s a world of birds and flowers and little bugs that people can no longer identify both because we don’t see as much of them anymore and because we spend far less time looking for them.
There’s a lot of fantasy out there filled with generic woods, and I’ve read plenty of it. And I’m not blaming the authors, I do realize it’s harder to get out in nature. But it is worth it to try, even if it’s only a small park or creek. You’ll come away richer by trying to notice and incorporate the natural world around you in your writing.
hmm. maybe u were put on this earth to make art and write bad poetry and create silly little playlists and being kind and maybe tearing up a little bit when you see old people eating alone
idk what traumatized or mentally ill person needs to hear this but dreams (especially the really disturbing ones you dont want to talk about to anybody) arent some deep peek into your psyche or a sign of your True Desires or whatever theyre quite literally your brain making fruit salad with whatever it can find on the shelf. just putting all that shit in a blender and hitting obliterate. its fine, youre fine, youre not a weirdo for it
children outside screaming: annoying but ultimately for the greater good. children need Going Outside and Screaming Time for proper emotional development. an auditory burden I am willing to bear
neighbor with his car he made louder on purpose: jail for neighbor. jail for ten thousand years
Geralt: makes dad jokes, sneezes loudly, likes to cook meat over a fire, obsessed with his mode of transportation, wears socks with sandals, and many more things
Jaskier: not like that :(
Vesemir: is terrifyingly competent at everything, effortlessly commands every other Wolf, holds the eye of every person in the room, can give orders just by raising his eyebrow, walks like he has a huge cock
A little post-run softness for you because I’m trying not to write for a week and failing:
The heroic Count Odo returns to his estate after successfully repelling the Blackclad invaders and restoring his beloved queen to the throne. Who has been watching over his land while he’s been away? Who could not write to him because of the circumstances but received irregular correspondence, including one frightfully vague, foreboding message smudged with the inescapable Angren mud when he thought all hope was lost?
Who, when he arrives, Count Odo meticulously removes his armor and road dust before presenting himself, unerringly deferential even in his own home?
It is Lady Odo who receives him with a familiar reserved nature, back straight and shoulders back as she has never let the weight of the years bend her posture or break her iron will. His mother who, always diligent and refined, shows her unfaltering love for her son by warding off blight, brigands and famine from his lands and people through precision and guille befitting their family crest.
He takes her now willowy hands into his own: they feel too rough, too large when he can still remember her gentle, reassuring squeezes as a boy, when her fingers could wrap around his palms that are now too thick from sword handling.
“I know ‘tis you’ll ask upon first, my health and then th’ state of affairs here - but, my son, I must insist you indulge me this once. Tell me.”
Reynard studies the light brown of Lady Odo’s irises, flicked with gold. Resolute, unyielding. She’d needed it, raising a child who’d inherited all of her will and wit, but with his father’s arrogance and performative nature.
How many of her steel grey hairs had he alone caused?
Alas, he’d been paid back in kind and many times over with his own follies and then his troops.
Sentimentality has never been a characteristic of either of them, but Reynard finds himself fighting back emotion as his mother continues to watch him expectantly.
“There’s t’ be a ceremony in a month’s time. Her Grace … Meve will name me as her consort.”
Although she can’t squeeze the entirety of his hand as she once could, Lady Odo presses her fingers against into the calloused flesh of his hands where she can with tears shining in her eyes. Markedly the closest he’s observed his mother to crying in all his life.
