Worldbuilding Without Getting Lost in the Map
What to avoid and what to do instead to build the world your story not only needs, but also deserves.
Dear storyteller,
If you’re standing at the edge of a brand-new world, it can feel like the best time of your life, or it can leave you drained and hopeless. Trust me, I get it. When I first started building the Leruna Sea map, I made so many mistakes that cost me precious time and creative thinking. Let’s make sure you don’t make those same mistakes.
Worldbuilding is intoxicating. The moment you sketch a coastline, name a kingdom, or invent a magic system, it feels like stepping through a door into another realm. But here’s the trap: sometimes we get so enchanted by the map that we forget to write the story living inside it. I’ve been stuck building entire civilizations, only to realize my plot was still gathering dust in the corner.
Mistakes to Avoid
Worldbuilding before plot.
It’s tempting to design the entire world before you begin, but without characters and story to anchor it, the world risks feeling like a museum—beautiful, but lifeless.
The blackhole of endless research.
You look up medieval farming practices “just to get it right” and suddenly you’ve lost a whole afternoon. Research is wonderful, but it’s a rabbit hole with no end.
Inventing a world you don’t know how to use.
Creating intricate details that never appear on the page (and never serve the story) often leads to frustration and overwhelming stress.
My Approach
Build only what the story needs right now.
Start small. If your character is heading to a marketplace, build that. If your plot never leaves one city, don’t map the entire continent. Basics are important, but that’s all you need to start writing.
The iceberg method.
Yes, create depth, but remember that most of it stays unseen. Readers only glimpse the tip, and that’s enough to give them a sense of the vastness lying in wait beneath.
Use character experience.
The world feels “not realistic,” it’s not because of how much you show, but how your characters live in it. Let the details emerge through their eyes, their struggles, their awe—create a perfect pathway for your reader to relate to both the character and the world they’re navigating.
Tools & Tips
Think of world sketches, not encyclopedias. A quick outline of culture, climate, and conflict will do more for your draft than fifty pages of lore.
Borrow from history but reshape it. A dash of ancient Rome here, a spark of feudal Japan there, all filtered through your imagination.
Create limits. Magic costs. Cultures clash. A map serves the story, not the other way around. Tension lives in boundaries.
Conclusion
Your world doesn’t need to be complete. It needs to be alive. Breathable. Flexible. Capable of surprising you as much as it surprises your readers. A map is a guide, not a prison.
Writing Prompt: Your character stumbles upon a building, landmark, or relic that doesn’t appear on any known map—but somehow feels familiar. What is it, and what secret does it hold?
Bonus tool: I made my map for When the Wicked Sing using the website Inkarnate. If you love the idea of building your own map—or if you just don’t have time or money to hire someone to draw it up for you—then check it out! But remember, in order for you to use it commercially, you need to make your map in the Pro version.
Until next time, may your worlds expand only as far as your story needs them to.
S.L. DeBois