Same and Different

Once upon a time, there was a caterpillar tale. Worlds apart from those biped readers with their opposable thumbs, the little story wondered how to make the struggles of a larva eating her way through life relatable. Could human hearts resonate with Laurva’s despair—feeling trapped in an endless cycle of stuffing and pain?

As Science Fiction and Fantasy writers, we share strange worlds from our imagination and the new civilizations residing in them, crafting words to usher the reader across the threshold of their reality into ours. But how do we capture the hearts and minds of those readers? Wisdom can be found, as Robert Fulghum  teaches, “in the nursery school sand box.”

One of these things is not like the others…

Why just one? Because “One” makes a difference special. We appreciate what is different in the context of what is familiar. Sometimes the simplest children’s song can point the way to deeper truth. Unfold your story-world differences with care, inviting readers to suspend disbelief one feature at a time.

When we introduce too many alien concepts at once, we can frustrate or confuse readers, jarring them out of the fictive bubble. On the other hand, we need to reveal our story wonders early—before the reader creates a picture that could collide with future revelations. To keep them engaged, their hearts need to be pulled into the conflict. They need to connect with our characters, no matter how dissimilar their worlds are. A Sesame Street story teaches that while we are all different, we also share traits. This common thread allows the reader to see past what separates, forming an emotional bond.

We’re Different, We’re the Same 

Cathy McCrumb opens her debut science fiction novel, RECORDER, with “I did not have a name—none of us did—but once when I was young, I had a friend.” Unlike the Recorder, we have names, so the otherness of her existence is immediately obvious. But the wistful remembering of what was dear to her heart captures our attention and emotions because we can all relate to missing a friend.

It’s exciting to dive into the chasm of “what if,” but to set the story-hook, it’s important to effectively communicate both the foreign and the familiar. Our readers need to feel the characters’ struggle. We want them care about what is gained and lost. It’s less about stepping into another person’s shoes, and more about slipping into their skin, perhaps even realizing, as the antagonist often reminds the hero, “we’re not so different, you and I.” (Cue Hero screaming “Noooooooooooo!”)

When what is Other becomes relatable, a connection forms, linking the reader to your characters. They are emotionally invested in how the story turns out—giving them something—someone—to root for, and they won’t be able to put your book down.

Allow your readers to feel your characters’ struggle to find meaning in existence, learn how to survive or even thrive under oppression, and they can vicariously participate in your characters’ arcs. Studies have even suggested that reading fiction is a catalyst for emotional development. Aristotle suggested that entertainment can teach us how to deal with difficult life situations from safe environs as spectators. Yes, dear author, your fiction can be transformative.

Entice your readers with wondrous imaginings, but don’t overwhelm them, and provide a tether to ensure they stay immersed. That one special difference, viewed in light of the familiar, will build your world and make the story sing.

Sophia L Hansen is an author and editor with Havok Publishing and loves to write In Other Worlds. She’s lived on a tiny island in Alaska, the bustling cities of New York and Boston, raised kids in Tennessee, and now resides just outside Birmingham, AL. After 30+ years of marriage, seven children, and numerous pets, Sophia still fits into her high school earrings.

You can follow Sophia’s words and worlds at https://www.sophialhansen.com/, Facebook, and Instagram.