Storytelling Techniques from Babylon 5: Beginning an Epic

This is part of a series about storytelling techniques for epic fantasy. I’m drawing my examples from the 1990s sci-fi TV show Babylon 5. If you’ve never seen it, that shouldn’t affect the validity or usefulness of my storytelling tips. If you do want to see the show, you can probably find it on Netflix or the DVDs on eBay.

The plot of Babylon 5 was told over five television seasons and a few TV movies. Never mind the ‘90s hair and CGI that’s outdated by today’s standards. The story itself was a sprawling epic fantasy with a space-opera setting, a story that spanned thousands of years and dozens of characters. J. Michael Straczynski was the mastermind behind this dramatic tale of humans and aliens, ancient prophecies and futuristic empires, villains and heroes.

A question that often plagues writers of every genre is “how do I begin the story?” This is more than just a question of choosing the perfect first sentence. It’s about deciding the most appropriate moment of the main character’s life and story to bring in the reader.

This can be especially challenging with an epic story, because, by its very nature, it has a history and long-range repercussions that may not actually be part of the main plot. How do you begin such a long story without giving a boring history lesson?

The Beginning?

The Babylon 5 pilot episode begins with one of the main characters of the series, Londo, giving a brief narration. He explains that this is the beginning of the story of a new space station called Babylon 5, but the audience also learns that it’s really an ending—Babylon 5 is the last of the Babylon stations. Four other space stations and their missions went before this one, and those stories—as yet untold—are the foundation on which the current story is built.

Any truly epic story is always at the beginning, at the end, and somewhere in the middle, because plot threads and characters are intertwined across time or distance. There’s no catch-all answer to the question of “where do I begin my story”—each plot and set of characters are unique. A guideline to consider, though, is beginning with an upsetting of the status quo.

As lovely as it is for real life to pass along without upsets or disasters, it makes for a somewhat tedious story—especially if you’re wanting to tell a long-running saga. Quickly establishing the norm—and upsetting that norm—jumpstarts the action and introduces the audience into the minds of the characters.

In Babylon 5, Londo’s brief narration (notice my emphasis on brief—let’s avoid that boring history lesson) explains that this final Babylon station is dedicated to serving the interests of peace. (This also hints that maybe the previous four Babylon stations didn’t succeed at this mission of peace…but more on foreshadowing in a different post).

Upset the Norm

The norm is established during the first few minutes of the story, through narration and the characters interacting in the setting. This is a space station in neutral territory, serving as a peaceful free port for all cultures, several of whom are rebuilding after long and violent wars. Then the norm is upset—an assassination attempt, cultural misunderstandings, and a surprise attack. Babylon 5’s mission of peace is immediately put to the test. And thus a plot is born.

It should also be noted that while the problem is introduced right away, it is not every problem that ever will be in the plot of the entire epic. In a long saga or a series, there is usually one over-arching plot, and then any number of smaller plots that feed into the main theme of the story. It’s important to establish the main plot fairly quickly. It can then be developed, via subplots, side plots, and other storytelling threads, over the course of the tale.

In this example, the main plot is established immediately—a threat to intergalactic peace. Many other plots feed into this during the course of the series—the Shadows returning after a thousand-year hiatus, the Minbari government crumbling, the enslavement of the Narns, the dictatorship on Earth, and on and on.

But all of these are part of the main plot—war encroaching on peace—and that core concept is the plot that is revealed right away. All of those other plots are not even hinted at right at the beginning. That’s the point of an epic—all of these related plots need time to develop. Upset the status quo as soon as possible, but don’t throw in everything at once. The audience needs time to learn about the characters and situations involved so the impact of each new plot thread will be felt.

I’m not going to discuss world-building in this post, even though that’s a vital element to any fantasy or sci-fi epic. The norm of the world of Babylon 5 is established as quickly as the main theme of the plot. In the first ten minutes of the pilot, we know that it’s in the future, on a space station, and there are humans and aliens from countless cultures all living together. The depth of this world is revealed in more detail as time progresses.

The same can be done in the first few pages of a novel. Establish the basics of the norm—both the setting (world) and the situation. Then when the problem enters the picture, the reader can learn about the world at the same pace that they are learning about the characters and the plot—because both the characters and their world are part of the fixing of the problem.

The trilogy that I’m writing may or may not qualify as an “epic.” And hopefully I’ve followed these guidelines with my own beginning. I guess my critique partners and beta readers will let me know! Keep reading for the next few weeks—I’ll be writing about some more elements of telling an epic story.

“And so it begins.” – Kosh, “Chrysalis”

World Building, part 2

Last week I covered three guidelines for creating a convincing world in fantasy and science fiction. I’ve got three more to add to that list.

1. Do your research

This may seem counter-intuitive or unnecessary for something that isn’t real anyway, but some of the best sci-fi and fantasy is well researched before it’s written.

My post on natural laws in the previous world building list could be part of this “research” aspect. Things have to make logical sense within the world that you create.

If you have an alien planet with a gravity of ten times that of earth’s gravity, chances are that the dominant species on that planet will not be humanoid up-right bipeds. A creature with a human-like form and physiology would not be able to withstand the intense gravity. Let your creativity flow, but do a little research first.

For another example, let’s say you’re writing a fantasy story about a medieval-like kingdom battling an invading army. Both sides are using bows and arrows, swords, horse-drawn chariots, and the like. However, if you have an army of women bounding through the treetops, swinging from branch to branch shooting at the enemy with longbows, you might want to stop and do some research.

Longbows can stand six feet high, and shoot an arrow with enough force to pierce through thick metal armor. The bows are much too large and heavy to be wielded by someone bounding through the treetops. This is not to say that you have to become an expert on medieval archery to write a fantasy battle (I probably got some of the details wrong myself in that little illustration). But my point is that a little research on some of the key topics could save you embarrassment later.

2. Names and Languages

Many writers like to invent languages—or at least words and phrases in other languages. Most of us aren’t as adept as Tolkien was, writing several full-fledged dialects of his Elven language. But inventing a few words, or even a system of grammar and syntax, can be a fun challenge and can add a layer of realism to any fantasy story.

Character names should reflect the language, if there is one, and should definitely reflect the setting and the culture. Just imagine how jarring and inappropriate it would have been if Tolkien had tossed in a Braedan and an Emma in with Elrond and Galadriel, or a Josh and Mary in with Théoden and Éowyn.

In my current WIP, I haven’t invented any languages, but I do have characters from several different cultures—and the names are distinct to each culture. One set of creatures—the rulers of the woodland areas—have names that reflect who they are: Forest Dreamsong, Moon in the West, and Summer River. Another kind of creatures have names like Sydämen-Syöjä, Iku-Turso, and Ajatar. There’s no confusion as to which character might belong to which culture.

3. Consistency and Continuity

This is really the most important of all of these world building guidelines, I think, and one that I’ve mentioned repeatedly. No matter how much research you do, or what natural and cultural laws you establish or how many names you invent, the key is to be consistent.

Many readers can forgive a glaring lack of research if the element still fits within the context of the story and is consistent throughout. But I can almost guarantee that readers will be less forgiving if you forget halfway through your story that your alien race breathes only methane. Or if the kingdom in your epic fantasy forbids women to wear purple, and the princess goes out in a violet gown and no one bats an eye, the readers will notice and wonder about it.

With sci-fi and fantasy, you can build any kind of world you want, and that’s what makes those genres so fun. Just remember to establish the rules of your world, do a little research to make those rules believable, and then stick with it! Continuity keeps even the most absurdly fantastical story together.

Any other world building guidelines or suggestions you’d like to share? Please comment!

World Building, part 1

Setting is important, to one degree or another, in just about any work of fiction. But the genres of fantasy and sci-fi need something a bit heftier than a mere setting of the scene. In this post and the next one, I’m going to cover a few basics of the specific sort of scene-setting known as world-building.

In the genres of fantasy and science fiction, basically anything goes. But even in these and related genres (dystopian, paranormal, etc), there are guidelines that should be followed for the story to hold together and be convincing.

A fantasy world does not have to be “realistic” in the sense that it resembles our own world, but it should have its own set of rules, and things that happen in that world need to happen in accordance with these rules.

Inaccuracy or inconsistency of details are things that savvy readers will notice. Sci-fi and fantasy readers especially can be a nit-picking, detail-oriented bunch (or, at least, I am. And I’m sure I’m not the only one).

1. Natural Laws

Gravity, weather, the day-night cycle, the behavior of animals in their native environments—nature follows a set of laws in our world, and in a fantasy world it should do the same.

Let’s say your sci-fi story is about human colonists on a planet that orbits very close to its sun, so the surface temperature is hot enough to liquefy steel in minutes. If their space ships can barely survive long enough to land and take off again, then a lone human parading around in a space suit isn’t going to fare any better.

Are the humans’ colonies deep underground? Do they live in mobile cities that travel at the same rate as the planet’s rotation, so they always stay on the cooler night side of the planet? Even though the story is not “realistic” in the sense that it’s our world here and now, it needs to be realistic in that setting.

2. Cultural Laws

This one gives the writer more leeway than natural laws, in my opinion. You can set up your culture of fairies or aliens or gothic kingdoms any way you want. Religion, clothing, dinner table customs—go nuts and be creative! The most important thing about cultural laws is making these traditions laws within the story, and sticking to it.

In The Silver Chair (of The Chronicles of Narnia), when the main characters are eating dinner at the giants’ mansion, it’s revealed that the venison served had been a Talking Stag. Killing (and especially eating) a Talking animal amounts to murder of the highest degree in Narnian culture. The giants’ complete disregard for this cultural law makes them an abomination to the Narnians.

In several of the Narnia books, the subject of killing a Talking animal—even in self defense—is mentioned. The consistency of this cultural law throughout the series adds depth and believability to the world.

3. Avoid Deus ex machina

This is the “move of God,” or a surprise ending where an unexpected superpower sweeps in and miraculously fixes everything. Deus ex machina can occur in any genre, but fantasy and sci-fi can be particularly susceptible.

If your urban fantasy story is about clan warfare between different vampire clans in the city, and you’ve written yourself into a corner where the only way to stop the war is to sacrifice the main character, you have one of three options.

You can kill off the main character, and pull at your readers’ heartstrings (or possibly incur their wrath). You can go back and do some major rewriting, so that the tension and drama and resolving of the conflict challenges the main character but doesn’t kill him. Or, you can have some aliens abduct the rival clan and take them to another planet, thus halting the war.

That third option would be a Deus ex machina, and should be avoided at all costs. If aliens are already part of the story, or have been hinted at and foreshadowed effectively, then maybe you could get away with that sort of ending. But if the story is about vampires, humans, and more vampires, then suddenly bringing in aliens to solve the problem cheapens the story and confuses the readers.

I’ll continue this list next week. Any thoughts about these world building tips? Any dos or don’ts you’d like to add?