Every story is a journey of one kind or another. Heroes and heroines don’t shape the history of their respective worlds (and those neighboring them) by waiting in the comfort of the familiar. One of my favorite parts of a book is that little catch of breath when the protagonist slides from the routine into the extraordinary.
So how do you guide a character’s first steps in a new world? First think about the transition itself. Is it primarily physical (transported to a new kingdom or mythical land) or psychological (discovering your best friend is a vampire)? Are there enough clues for your protagonist to realize something is different right away, or do they take days to figure it out? Are they scared, happy, excited, sad, or some confusing blend of all those emotions?
As with any kind of descriptive writing, I find it helpful to think about the five senses when trying to describe the boundary between one world or way of existence and the next. Does the air smell different, marked by the pollen of a new kind of flower? Is the sunlight brighter or are the shadows deeper? When your character runs from the call of a predator or the hiss of an unfamiliar language, is it easy for him or her to catch their breath?
All of these details may seem irrelevant if, say, a fire-breathing dragon meets your protagonist at the beginning of their journey. But while monsters or magic may make it obvious that something has changed, they don’t make a new world believable to readers or characters. Humans are very good at ignoring or rationalizing big things—it’s the little things that slip in unnoticed and whisper the truth.
I have been thinking about these kinds of boundaries and transitions often since arriving at college. In many ways, California is like another world. The squirrels around campus are sleek and dark brown instead of bristling grey. It’s warm during the day, but the dry air loses its heat fast once the sun sets. North Carolinians pride themselves on the blue of their sky, but I think Palo Alto has them beat. Beyond the fact that I’m living in a dorm and enrolling in classes, these details let me know that I have truly arrived somewhere new.
