Writing is often compared to a journey, but for me, it’s equally about charting the terrain—both figuratively and literally. Over the years, I’ve created countless maps for the settings in my stories. These maps, much like the stories themselves, have gone through multiple iterations. Each time, I refine my process, adopt new tools or techniques, and find better ways to express the intricate worlds I’ve built in my mind.
When I started, my maps were simple sketches, born from imagination and hastily scrawled on paper. At the time, they felt perfect—a complete reflection of the worlds I wanted to share. But as my understanding of the stories deepened, I found myself revisiting those early drafts, feeling the need to evolve and refine them. The characters grew richer, the cultures more complex, and the distances between stars more meaningful. The maps, like the stories they were tied to, had to grow with them.
Every iteration of a map is like editing a chapter. Sometimes, it means cutting out entire sections that no longer fit or redrawing borders to better align with new ideas. It’s never easy. There’s always a pang of loss when you let go of something that once felt complete. But I’ve learned to embrace that feeling because with every step forward, I’m creating something that reflects my vision more clearly.
The process can be painstaking—adjusting star systems by hand, tweaking trade routes, or rethinking political borders to better reflect the cultures I’ve written. But it’s also deeply rewarding. A well-crafted map isn’t just a tool; it’s a story in its own right. It shows relationships between factions, highlights the flow of resources, and reveals the natural challenges characters face in their travels. A map isn’t static; it’s alive, just like the narrative.
What inspires me to keep going, even when I’m tempted to stick with the “good enough” version, is the thought of readers seeing these worlds the way I do. When they can follow a starship’s journey from a contested border world to a bustling trade hub and understand the stakes along the way, that’s when I know I’ve succeeded.
This iterative process is not just about maps, though—it’s a philosophy I carry into my writing. Revising chapters, reworking dialogue, or even rethinking entire plotlines follows the same principle: use what works as the seed for something better. The effort isn’t wasted, even if you end up scrapping entire sections. It all contributes to the final vision.
Lately, I’ve been focused on remapping an area of my setting spanning a few hundred light years from Earth. I’ve taken old maps that I once thought were finished and used them as the foundation for something new. This time, I’m bringing everything I’ve learned over the years—new processes, better software, and a clearer vision of the galaxy my characters inhabit. It’s exciting, challenging, and occasionally frustrating. But every moment spent refining these maps brings me closer to creating a universe that feels as real to readers as it does to me.
So, my writing tip for today is this: Don’t be afraid of revision. Whether it’s a map, a chapter, or even a character, your first attempt is just the beginning. Use it as a foundation, learn from the process, and keep building. Writing, like mapping, is a journey of discovery. And the best worlds—the ones that stay with us—are born from the courage to refine and reimagine.
What’s something you’ve reworked, refined, or reimagined that turned out better than you ever expected? Share your experiences—I’d love to hear about your creative journey.
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