pear's world

Table of Contents:

Part One: The Right Way to Build Worlds
Part Two: Intuition and Logic
Part Three: Study –and Ask Why?
Part Four: How to Begin Building Your World
Part Five: Growing Out
Part Six: Growing Out World
Part Seven: Growing Out People
Part Eight: Growing Out Living
Part Nine: Growing Out the Little Things
Part Ten: The Effect of More
Part Eleven: Stop World Building Already
Part Twelve: Trust Your Readers
Part Thirteen: Stay Limber, Writers
Part Fourteen: Navigating Stereotypes

(Note from Pear: This series is indefinitely open to new posts. As they are added, this post will be updated. Like always, you can find original content in the posts by pear tag and the table of contents tag for series.)

(A table of contents is available. This series will remain open for additional posts and the table of contents up-to-date as new posts are added.)

Part Four: Enriching the World Through Dialogue

We often think that world-building must be done through narration, that we only showcase our world and our world’s potential through the use of long paragraphs detailing the style of the carts and the architecture of the city, the clothing and hairstyles, and on and on with all the details our hearts desire. What we often forget is how tiring long paragraphs of these kinds of observations can be. Dialogue can be an extremely useful tool for introducing information about your world without feeling constrained to the narrative voice of the piece.

What’s normal and what’s not.

Have you ever been talking to someone and you mention a store you frequent or the flock of turkeys that forced you to stop on your way across town, and the other person gives you the blankest stare. Experiences across the world–even across town–are not the same (just to state the obvious for a minute). The variations found in everyone’s lives can become fantastic opportunities when you put two people from different places together because they will automatically be more likely to point out differences and ignore similarities.

Acknowledging things that are common vs. uncommon in a setting may not seem particularly important, but think of it this way: You’re writing a world entirely different than ours, which means that we can’t imagine all the things that are possible within this new world. How are we to know when something out of the ordinary presents itself to the characters unless the characters let us know? The way your characters talk about certain aspects of the world will help give the audience a better understanding of what normal life is like. To set up something scary and unnatural for the world, we need to know what the opposite looks like.

Remember that with movies, we can tell what the focus is and what the movie considers important by how much time is spent on/with it. Utilize the same concept to create the contrast of ordinary and extraordinary to help your audience easily make those distinctions. Of course, it’s not that you shouldn’t mention normal things at all, but that neither a full page conversation nor a full paragraph of description needs to be given to them. Draw attention to the extraordinary, coax it to the forefront.

Use dialogue to illustrate these little nuances. Have characters remark on things to each other and tell each other short stories that give the audience context. This is especially useful when you have a collection of character who aren’t from the same place. Regional variants on food, architecture, creatures, and customs give you great opportunities to build your world through quick moments between characters. “It’s strange to see all these grey horses. Most of ours are brown.” Even something as simple as this shows your audience that there’s more out there than what’s on-screen at the moment.

There are plenty of times when working these kinds of details into narration feel awkward. Remember that you have this other tool–dialogue–to utilize, too. Working it into conversation can work in a dynamic way not only building your world, but also your character. More on that another day.

Mechanics of the world.

When writing in worlds with some really complex systems like magic, or a very deeply developed set of cultures, religions, and all the rest that come with a whole new world, it can be very tempting to use our characters’ mouths to try to explain it to our readers. It’s a fantastic opportunity, especially when we’re able to put characters into a situation where they can ask, “Why? Why isn’t it working? Why did that happen? Why can’t we use that idea?” These platforms for information are so convenient, but without keeping a couple of things in mind when crafting these conversations, diary entries, letters, and other forms of communication, they can become info-dumps just as easily as narration can.

Keep voice in mind. Whether you’re trying to convey how something works through a written dialogue or a spoken one, your words are not actually yours. They belong to the character speaking them. Make sure you keep them in mind. You need to be using their vocabulary, their opinions, and most of all, their understanding of the world and how it functions. Just because we–as writers–know the very specific inner workings of why one magic works with another but doesn’t work with this other one doesn’t mean that your character does. Yes, it’s that very thing that enables us to set up these “why” scenarios, but it’s the same reason why answering those questions cannot and should not be a regurgitation of your planning notebook.

In a video game, we know the mechanics programmed into the server that allows for this or doesn’t allow for that, and we can explain it to each other, but our characters only know what they can see and observe through the technology available to them according to the time period of their story. Remember that. Remember that you can’t just have a character say, “I can’t cast that anymore today because I’m out of fifth level spells.” It needs to use words and an understanding of the world that are true to them, not true to us.

Lastly, with world mechanics and dialogue, keep it short, light, and in character. The more time you dwell on whatever it is you’re trying to explain, the more likely it will become uncharacteristic both for the speaking character and for the story’s tone. It’ll bog down a scene faster than a sinkhole in the road. Giving these kinds of world-building details are best done by showing the system in action rather than trying to explain it. Dialogue is the easy way out in this case. Challenge yourself to create scenarios that force your characters to use and showcase the abilities of the various systems in your world.

Next up: Character-building through dialogue!

Desert plant + planet correspondences brainstorm:

Sun (warmth, power, strength) - Palo Verde tree, for it’s unique photosynthesizing trunk, it’s golden flowers, and spring warmth. Chia seeds for their life-sustaining protein and hydration; lots of power in a small package. Honey Mesquite for it’s sweet golden bean pods, nourishing and plentiful.

Moon (dreams, emotion, mystery) - Datura (TOXIC) for it’s hallucinogenic powers, and dangerous visions. Star Jasmine for it’s white, sweet smelling blossoms, which bloom at night. 

Mercury (healing, communication, magic, travel) - Cottonwood tree, for it’s wind-borne fluffy seed dispersal (good for wishes). Aloe Vera for it’s soothing healing properties. Citrus trees, and their acidic, immune boosting fruit. Encilia for it’s healing tea. 

Venus (love, beauty, art) - Cactus blossoms for their brief but radiant beauty. Citrus blossoms, the sweetest flowers in the world. Prickly Pear fruit for it’s nourishing sweetness. 

Mars (war, aggression, bravery) - Cactus thorns, for their sharpness. Cheesebush (ambrosia salsola) for it’s pungent chemical protection. Ocotillo spines for their spear shape. Mormon Tea for it’s energizing caffeine-like zing.

Jupiter (Growth, prosperity, Increase) Juniper Berries, powerfully protective like their cousin cedars. Desert wildflowers like Sand Verbena and Evening Primrose, for their lush seasonal abundance after rain.

Saturn (Purification, Binding, Reduction) -  Century Plant (agave americana) for it’s rebirth-focused life cycle. Creosote, for it’s powerful antiseptic cleansing and emetic purifying properties. Mistletoe for it’s diligent, parasitic hunger. Chiles, and their cleansing capsaisin.

Uranus (Inspiration, invention, individuality) - Lantana flower clusters; source of childhood divination games. Various succulents, with their ingenious water saving adaptations. Tumbleweeds, for their famously unique method of seed dispersal.

Neptune (Intuition, empathy, adaptability) - Ocotillo leaves, only drawn out by rain. California Sagebrush, for it’s (especially menstrual) pain relief, reliance on the rain/dormance cycle, and pleasant smell.

I’m unfamiliar with Pluto, and unsure what to associate it with. Gonna leave it out of this list.

Give me feedback, desert witches/folk!! What do you think of local plants, and the planets. Do you have correspondences different from mine? Argue them with me; I had a hard time placing sagebrush. Let’s pool ideas.

anonymous asked:

Hi, I hear someone saying that Hunger Games isn't immersive, and I was wondering what is an immersive universe and is it something I should be writing? And if so, how do I go about doing it? Thanks!

This is a perfectly fascinating question, and I think it deserves some time unpacking it. So, what is an immersive universe?

Immersive: relating to…images that actively engage one’s senses and may create an altered mental state; relating to activity that occupies most of one’s attention, time, or energy. (x)

What this boils down to is that an immersive universe is a world that so completely captures a reader’s imagination and attention that they may begin to daydream, lose track of time, lose a sense of surrounding, gain selective hearing, and all the other symptoms that come right along with being completely absorbed in something. “Immersive” can describe anything from a task requiring intense concentration (to the point that you block out everything else to facilitate that concentration) such as data entry, all the way to things like video games that so completely suck a person in that they lose three hours of their time without noticing it. If a game is immersive, it’s considered to be so well-designed, well-written, and well-executed that it draws the player in and allows the player to imagine themselves within the game. There are no oddities or awkwardness, things that distance the player or jolt them from the game. It’s a highly desirable aspect to any piece of fiction because you’ve created a world that appears seamless.

Consider the definition for world-building which I talked about back in Part One of that series:

World building: The construction of a world, especially a convincing fictional world for literature, etc.

If a world is so completely seamless that is becomes immersive, it could also be described as convincing, could it not? If your goal is to create a convincing world, then immersive should also be one of those goals. Alright, so immersive is a good thing–so good that it makes your readers want to come back for more. But how do we get there? What makes a piece of fiction immersive?

Your world:

So you’ve got a pretty unique world set up. That’s cool. How are you going to bring it to life on the page? In order for your story to be immersive, your audience has to be able to see it, live in it, understand it. That means that your job as the author to world-build effectively is paramount. You’ll need to figure out the delicate balance between your world-building within the narrative as well as your story. Sharing details about the world will help folks be able to envision where and who your characters are.

Describing characters and settings and pertinent political/cultural/religious/social details as needed without going too overboard will be key, since you want them to be able to understand the world without overloading them with too much of the nitty-gritty. Entice them before you dump a whole heap before them. Make sure the characters feel like they belong in the world you’re creating and that the world feels like it could conceivably exist. If you have a man toting a six-shooter in a world where so far only swords and daggers have been seen, your reader is going to feel a bit uncomfortable, and that out-of-place-ness will drag them right out of whatever immersion you were able to create before that. A woman in the 1300s whipping out a cellphone, for example, would probably be jarring enough for a reader to remember they’re looking at words on a page, not directly through a screen to their imagination.

Your characters:

If your characters aren’t interesting and believable as real human beings, your audience won’t see them that way. They’ll constantly be seated a bit further back from the story, rather than directly in it, because they don’t feel like their connection with the character is genuine, or that the character itself is genuine. This does not mean that all your characters need to be sympathetic, but the more understandable they are, the more relateable they’ll be (even if your readers can’t say, “That’s me!” they will still be able to relate in a way that’s perhaps more like, “I know someone like that.”). The more understandable they are, the easier it will be for your readers to imagine that character in other situations, which will help them to feel as though they’ve connected with your world.

Your style:

Think about the style of your storytelling, as well. First person is often thought to be the easiest to evoke an immersive quality since by virtue of placing the “I” in a reader’s mind, the reader will begin to associate with that character, but it’s certainly not the only way. Creating an engaging voice to your piece by picking words that create mood and tone will help the reader to feel the settings of the piece. (I’ve read some pieces that were so thick with suspense and humidity I could literally feel the damp on my skin and my hairs raise on my arm.) Alongside picking your words and creating your style, remember that using too many words that folks have to look up will pull the reader right out of the story and right back into their living room, looking for their phone. Overly complex writing styles will cause this, too. No sentence should have to be read twice to understand, so in your editing make sure there are no moments where you have to clarify to yourself how to read a sentence. Keeping your metaphors from being too outlandish will help keep from jarring a reader, too.

Remember that reader-experience is different every time: 

Look. You asked specifically about The Hunger Games and its immersive ability. I don’t have an answer for that one. While I never had a trouble envisioning the world, I also wouldn’t have called it immersive. I didn’t feel it. What would have helped with that? I don’t know, probably style for me. But for you and those you were talking with? Who knows. Maybe they were immersive for you. Maybe your stomach twisted when Katniss and Peeta held those berries; maybe you held your ear when those supplies outside the cornucopia exploded; maybe you dreamed of the mines of District 12. I don’t know. Like with all writing things, it’s individual and there’s no tried-and-true, right-and-wrong way to do any of this. Write with feeling, write with vision, write with passion and hopefully your audience will pick up on that, too. If your beta readers tell you it feels a bit wooden and they couldn’t lose themselves in it quite as easily, go back and look at some things. Tweak your style, first off–that’s usually the biggest road block to immersion. Right now I’m reading a story that’s very heavily stylized–very interesting in terms of execution, but not easy to dissolve into because of that stylization. Is that wrong? Maybe. Maybe not. It depends on the reader and how the story hits them at the time they’re reading it. Never dismiss the criticism, but never believe it’s the end-all-be-all about your story, either. I hope this has helped a bit, Anon. Good luck! -Pear

The Game is On (Part 2)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (AU)

Word Count: 1,849

Warnings: cuteness, fluffy, jealousy over Steve not being your boyfriend?

Summary: You and Steve have been together for six years, happily living life in your Brooklyn apartment. On the night of your six-year anniversary, you come home to find a folded note on the table with your name written in Steve’s scripted handwriting. Inside? Instructions to your own personal treasure hunt to find your surprise - and Steve - at the end, and you have 20 minutes to start! The game is on…

A/N: This is the second part to @bionic-buckyb‘s 5K writing challenge - I’m hoping to do this in 6 parts (1 part per clue) but I’m unfortunately very crap at sticking to plans (sorry)

** = flashback scene

[Part 1]



You pulled your phone out in the taxi, seeing a text from Steve.

- Hey Doll, how’s it going?

- The first clue was easy. Everyone was staring though, it felt so weird to be at the hospital and not in my scrubs. Can you give me a hint on my surprise?

- No can do pretty lady, if I give you any hints then you’ll guess it and this effort will be ruined. Just trust me

- It wouldn’t be ruined. This is beautiful, I love it, but you know I hate surprises because I hate not knowing!

- Which is exactly why this is the perfect surprise! Enjoy yourself

- Ok well I’ll see you soon then lover boy xo

- See you soon doll xo


You put your phone away as the cab pulled up to the curb outside of the theatre, paying him and stepping out as your mind raced back to your first date.

Keep reading

Table of Contents:

Part 1: Watch Your Symptoms
Part 2: Character Levels
Part 3: Developing Crowd Characters
Part 4: Developing Tertiary Characters
Part 5: Developing Secondary Characters
Part 6: Developing Primary Characters
Part 7: Developing Characters Using Questions
Part 8: Developing Characters Using Little Details
Part 9: Diverting Archetypes
Part 10: Avoiding the Self
Part 11: Building Realism
Part 12: The Truth About Character Flaws
Part 13: What To Do When Your Character Falls Flat
Part 14: Using Your World


(a note from Pear: this table of contents is currently up-to-date. should I decide to return to this series, later posts will be added to this table of contents. all posts original to this blog may be found under the posts by pear tag.)

anonymous asked:

Hey Pear, do you have any tips on his to not get too caught up in world building and burning yourself out??

It’s such a fine line–same with outlining/plotting. You can so easily get caught up in the creation of it that you feel like you’ve already lived all that can be lived within this world, so why write it? And you’ve created so much that there’s no way you’re going to be able to write and include all this cool stuff you’ve made! I get where you’re coming from. Finding that line for yourself–because it is subjective and specific to each individual writer–can be a long process of trial and error.

I tend to err on the side of “just good enough.” I world-build as I go. What this means is I set up a framework (concepts and ideas and the basics of how they function, some “mood words” for various peoples, pictures of similar areas, etc.) but it’s not filled in with all the specific nitty-gritty like what colors of clothes are most common to an area or what the exact burial rituals. Those really specific details get filled in as I write with a group, as I kind of feel them out and understand who these people are and how they live. Yeah, it means I get stuck on something sometimes and I have to take a step back for a day or two to figure out some world-building, but it also means that I don’t feel constrained heading into the story by an intense, intricate set of rules I’ve predefined to write inside.

I world-build outside the story on paper a bit like I feed world-building into the story: as necessary. What this means is I only have finite rules, regulations, and concrete details about the workings of the world as I have need of them within the story. I’ll write along and think up things as I go based on what would logically emerge from the peoples I’m writing about. It’s a bit of a nebulous process because I’m constantly building little details and rules about the world the entire time I’m writing a piece. Let’s see if I can give something a bit more concrete for you.

Trust Yourself:
The truth is, humans have this wonderful gift called imagination. World-building external to a story is a wonderful exercise for that imagination, but it’s all devoid of life. It’s statistics on a page. When you write with it, when you form it as you’re writing, straight out of your imagination as you go, it will have more life and more potential because it’s just been breathed into being by the characters on the page. Later you can go back and flesh it out in more data-like notes, but trust yourself and your imagination to come up with things organically from your writing and the people on the page. You’ll already have a bigger investment in the world-building because there are people attached to it.

Stop With the Broad Strokes:
Know how the continents are shaped, know the color of your peoples’ skin, know what their cultural values are, know some of those super broad strokes about your world, but let the spontaneity of writing give you the finer details. If you try to outline every single piece of data you might ever maybe need, you’ll overwhelm yourself. All those details become a cage that you must write within, and you don’t give your imagination the freedom to explore new ideas. You’ll feel like you have to stay within the lines, and that’s when a world starts to die a little. It goes back to trusting yourself to create the details you’ll need once you’ve given yourself the broad strokes to paint between.

Know What Burn-Out Feels Like:
It’s a bit different for everybody, but pay attention to your thoughts about a story so that you can begin to recognize the earliest onset of world fatigue. Note that I said to observe your thoughts about the story not the world. There’s a reason for that distinction. When you’re so caught up in your world, you’ll stop thinking about the story you’re trying to tell. That’s no good. In fact, that’s the worst. You should always be most focused on your story, even if that means letting small things about your world slide. It’s the story that you’re building this world for, so as soon as you say, “I’ll get to the story eventually. It’ll wait for a while until I figure out this continent that the characters aren’t going to encounter in this book.” Stop, stop, stop. Go back to your story. Think about your characters. Dive back into the world of narrative. If you’ve set your characters aside, you’ve been world-building too long.

Check out the Stop World Building Already article from the Let’s Talk About: World Building series for some more advice! Good luck! -Pear

Prediction for Same Old World, Barn Mates, and Hit the Diamond (SPOILERS)

(THE SU LEAKS ARE MENTIONED)
In the sneak peek for Same Old World, Steven says that Peridot is going to be staying behind at the barn. I’m not sure if this is going to be long-term, or simply while they’re moving back to the temple, but here’s my prediction for what’s going to happen if Peridot is really staying at the barn for good:

In Same Old World, Lapis wants to find a new home. After traveling the world, she decides she wants to stay with Steven, but not the CG’s. Lapis this decides to stay in the barn. But who else is in the barn? Peridot, whom she dislikes. (This is foreshadowed in the Empire City leak; Steven mentions that Lapis could live with a ‘wacky roommate’ (Peridot)). Their companionship could also be foreshadowed with the scene from Camp Pining Hearts that we saw in Log Date, assuming the featured characters are meant to stand for Peridot and Lapis.

In rolls Barn Mates. If Peri and Lapis are going to live together, they have to be friends, right? The CG’s are permanently moved back in to the temple, which explains their absence in the Spaceship Smackdown leak. Lapis destroying the Roaming Eye proves that Lapis is willing to tolerate Peridot, and protect her (now that she’s Public Enemy #1).

So Peridot and Lapis are just chilling in the barn for the foreseeable future. Hit the Diamond occurs back at the barn because that’s where Peridot is staying, and that’s who the Rubies are looking for. Lapis or Peridot probably use The Nearest Warp Pad™ to warn the CG’s back in the temple about the Rubies arriving, so they all come back to the barn for that.

TL;DR: Lapis and Peri will live in the barn together, and make appearances by warping back to the temple now and again.

post-apocalyptic adventure story about a group of people trying to find a place that can only be accessed by solving a series of clues and riddles because one last survivor lives there and they happen to be the only person left in the world with pears in their animal crossing town

Table of Contents

Part 1: Culture and Its Place in Fiction
Part 2: What Qualifies as Culture, 1 /2
Part 3: What Qualifies as Culture, 2 /2
Part 4: Prodding Passive Culture Into Active Culture
Part 5: Incorporating Culture Into Setting
Part 6: Bringing Out Culture Through Characters
Part 7: Enhancing Plot With Culture
Part 8: Entirely Fictional Examples of Using Culture in Plot


(Note from Pear: This series in indefinitely open to new posts. As they are added, this post will be updated. Like always, you can find original content in the posts by pear tag and the table of contents tag for series.)

(A table of contents is available. It will be kept up-to-date as new posts are added. Disclaimer: If you are planning on basing your own fictional magic system off an existing magic belief, please do extensive research into anthropology and discussions from people of that belief. Avoid direct appropriation and be respectful!)

Part Ten: World Integration

When we first conceive of a magic system, the thing about it that we are most concerned with is how the magic interacts with the characters. It’s easy to see why: The characters are the ones using and harnessing it; the characters are the ones discovering it; the characters are the lens through which we see its usage. Depending on a few traits of your magic, you may have one other major player to consider: your world.

Remember way back in Part Two where we talked about where the source of your magic is? If your characters are using something other than their own life force for performing magic, take some time to imagine how magic manifests in the world. One of the prevailing beliefs in our own world is the concept of ley lines where power supposedly courses through the earth, drawing cultures across the globe to put monuments, worship spaces, and a variety of other culturally important places on top of them. The hope was that the power of the place would lend power to the people and that the ground was a variety of sacred. If your magic is external in any way, how does your world deal with that?

Does magic manifest concretely in your world? I mean, are there physical things that someone can go and touch or that they can carve or that they can own that are made of magic? Are there outcroppings of rock with chunks of magic projecting from them, or veins like rivers of magic flowing through your world that users can tap into? Is it possible to uncover a pond of magic that existed beneath the surface and use that? Does the magic disappear as it’s used or is it infinitely refilling itself? Does magic float in the air, tinting the color of an area depending on what kind of magic is present? Is there a smell that is associated with your magic being in the area? If your magic is based in elements or life-forces, how does the usage of those elements impact the world around it? If your character uses plant-based magic and causes a whole tiny ecosystem to grow at their command, how does that survive? How does an environment deal with the sudden dispersal of half its water supply when a magician using water magic comes along and whips out half a river against their enemy?

These ideas about bringing your magic into a more tangible feature of your environment aren’t necessary, but if you are playing around with an externally powered magic, it may be one aspect to your system that helps it stand out and make it unique. The more you can make your magic integrate with your world–rather than having it exist as an extra layer–the better. Your goal with building magic systems is to be unique and seamless. They should feel as though they’ve always been a part of the world and that the world has formed with this magic, not as a tacked-on sort of system. Unless there was a world-altering event that led to the introduction of magic, embed your magic, don’t dress your world in it.

Next up: Real-world worries!

(A table of contents is available. This series will remain open for additional posts and the table of contents up-to-date as new posts are added.)

Part One: A Quick Note

Religion is another topic I’ve avoided covering because of the complexity of religion in general as well as how easy it is to offend people when talking about it. As with the series on building magic systems, I want to emphasize that this is not a lesson on existing religions. I’m not going to be giving primers on the differences between Catholicism and Lutheranism, or putting Buddhism into practice, or writing Muslim characters. This is not your research series for real-world religions. This will be a discussion on how religion is put together, what it does for societies, how we can build it effectively and accurately, and how to write characters to whom religion is a strong part of their identity.

First and foremost, nothing in this series is meant to reflect anything about real-world religions aside from breaking the idea of religion down to its core. This is not commentary on specific religions and their validity, nor a critique on how “logical” or “well-working” they are. All religions are real and none are right or wrong. That concept applied to religion doesn’t work. Religions are what people need them to be, they are developed over centuries, they are malleable, and they are often directly influenced by the culture’s values, the environment, and population size. The saying, “You can’t compare apples to oranges,” is relevant to this discussion.

I will be talking about the creation of fictional religions, how you can integrate them into your cultures in meaningful ways, and building them in a way that feels like they could exist. Any of my own biases or leanings that emerge, I apologize for. It is not my intention. I always strive to uphold an educated, neutral position on anthropological ideas like these. Any offense I give toward religious and non-religious individuals, I hope you will let me know in a polite way so that I can fix any of those problems.

Next up: Anthropology’s definition to get us underway.

anonymous asked:

How do you show a character's race/ethnicity without explicitly stating it?

With real world races and ethnicities, I believe it’s always best to be direct, however there are many things that make up who we are racially and ethnically that you can use as descriptors other than flat-out saying what they are. Even with your own races that you build, it’s easiest and most direct to give them names and use them. “Her Anderri heritage showed in the way she chose to style her hair.”

Race is built with physical traits. You can use hair type descriptors, skin tone, the shape of their face, nose, eyes. These are all very standard ways of describing people.

Ethnicity is built on culture. I believe this is the more crucial, more tricky, more informative, more interesting way of describing people.

The way we speak is informed by where we grew up as much as by where we live now. Someone in Brooklyn will use different terms to describe things than someone in San Francisco or any small town in between. If you’re writing a fantasy world you’ve built, your context sentence will explain your slang and you’ll be able to develop a character’s ethnicity through that as much as saying, “Her skin grew even darker in the evening light than usual.”

The things we celebrate will be determined by our ethnicity. One character may hold one ceremony close to their heart while another’s never heard of it.

The way we dress takes cues from where and how we were raised. This speaks volumes about our ideals and our morals, and can portray ethnicity as well.

How others treat us also defines our ethnicity. People react to others differently, especially when they are different than themselves.

Here’s a tip: Think of it like painting a picture through a slow dishing out of details. At some point, especially when dealing with a fictional race or ethnicity, you will have to state the name of the race. I advise that you do this early on in your characters’ appearances, then from there you can begin filling in the picture of what it means to be [whatever race or ethnicity] through your story.

(I hope that helps. If you need further help, please feel free to send in another ask. Thanks for the question!)