You can picture a city where the streets shift every night. You see the alleys, hear footsteps and sense the beginnings of a story. But when you start writing, a question gets in the way: what should the character do first? Explain the whole strange world and the scene comes to a halt. Explain nothing and readers may not understand what is happening.
A strong imagination is not enough to turn a fantasy idea into a scene. You need to choose the information that helps readers follow a specific situation, a decision and its consequences. A good scene does not have to reveal every secret of an invented world. It does have to make sense of what is happening right now.
An idea is not yet an event
“In this city, the streets rearrange themselves every night” describes an intriguing feature of the setting. But it does not yet tell us why anyone should care. The story starts moving when that feature disrupts someone’s plan, creates an opportunity or forces them to choose between two options.
Before you write, try completing three sentences: The character wants... Something is stopping them... If they fail, ... You do not need to invent the fate of an entire world. A small, clear goal is enough to start a scene.
Example: Nora needs to deliver a letter to her sister by noon. But the streets shifted overnight, and yesterday’s route no longer exists. If Nora is late, her sister will leave without explaining their last argument. The strange city is not just a backdrop. It directly affects Nora’s decisions.
If you remove the fantasy element and the scene unfolds in exactly the same way, you may not be making use of it yet. Ask what obstacle or opportunity that particular rule creates. Not every original detail needs to appear in the opening.
Invent one rule and one limit
Building a world can quickly raise a long list of questions. Why do the streets move? Who controls them? When did it start? How do people live in the city? The answers may help you plan, but readers do not need them all at once. In the first scene, they often need only to know what is happening and what limit the character must work within.
For Nora’s city, let’s set a few simple working rules: the streets shift only at dawn, they move as complete units, and the bell tower in the square stays where it is. The tower can serve as a landmark. These are choices for our example, not general requirements for fantasy writing.
Limits matter because they prevent a solution from appearing out of nowhere. If Nora could simply tell the streets to move back whenever she wanted, her problem would lose its tension. If your world has exceptions, think about when readers will learn about them and why the character could not use them earlier.
Before writing the first paragraph, you could note down a few prompts:
- Rule: What is different in this world?
- Limit: What can this phenomenon not do, or when does it fail?
- Consequence: Who does it help, and who does it hinder?
- Visible sign: How can readers tell the rule is taking effect?
Start when something changes
Choosing the first sentence is often the hardest part. Writers may begin with the city’s history to prepare readers. But a specific action or disrupted expectation can work better in a dramatic scene. Readers discover the unusual world alongside the character, and they have a reason to keep going.
Compare two possible openings for the same story.
Explanatory opening: The city had long been known for its streets, which moved every morning. Residents had learned to adapt to the changing layout and used various ways to find their bearings. Nora had lived there for many years.
Opening with an event: Nora opened the gate and stopped. The bakery that had stood opposite her home yesterday was gone. In its place, a narrow street stretched towards the river. She clutched a letter in her hand and heard the morning bell toll in the distance.
In the second version, we do not yet know exactly how the streets move. But we know what Nora sees, that something has changed and that the letter matters because time is short. Readers can be curious without feeling lost. The next paragraph might introduce the bell tower as a fixed landmark and show Nora’s first attempt to find her way.
Reveal information when the character needs it
A fantasy scene raises two different questions. One is about curiosity: why are things so strange? The other is about orientation: where is the character, what are they trying to do, and why is it not working? You can leave the first question open for a long time. The second should be answered as the scene unfolds so readers can follow the action.
A simple comparison can help you decide what to reveal now and what can wait:
| Information | What to show in the scene | What can wait |
|---|---|---|
| Setting | Where Nora is starting from and where she needs to go | A detailed map of every district |
| World rule | The street outside her home shifted overnight | The origins and history of the shifting |
| Character’s goal | She needs to deliver a letter on time | The full history of the family dispute |
| Available option | The bell tower remains a landmark | Every way to navigate the city |
Choose imagery that serves the story
Creative writing invites unusual images, metaphors and sounds. They can give your prose a distinctive quality, but their effect fades when every object gets a new comparison. Readers may no longer know which details matter and which are only decorative.
For each striking image, decide what it is doing. It might establish the setting, create a mood, reveal character or set up what happens next. For example, “the paving stones were slick as glass” creates a sensory impression. But if Nora slips on them and drops the letter, the image also becomes part of the action.
By contrast, “the houses sang in blue voices and the paths dreamed silver memories” may create atmosphere, but it does not by itself help readers understand where the character is. It might work in a poetic passage. In a fast-paced chase scene, it may obscure information readers need.
This does not mean you should give up distinctive language. Try keeping one striking image and one precise detail in each paragraph. The image can carry the mood; the detail can help readers find their bearings. For example: “The houses stood close together like silent travellers. At the end of the street, the tower with the green clock still rose above the rooftops.”
Give the scene a sequence of attempts and consequences
Atmosphere draws readers into a setting, but the plot moves through change. To keep a scene from becoming a series of attractive descriptions, let the character try something and get a response from the world. They might succeed, fail or realise they need to change their original goal.
Nora’s story might unfold like this:
- Discovery: Her familiar route has disappeared, and there is little time left to deliver the letter.
- First attempt: Nora follows an old map but ends up at a blocked canal.
- New information: She hears the bell and remembers that the bell tower never moves.
- Decision: She takes a detour back to the tower, even though it will cost her time.
- Change in the situation: At the tower, she meets someone who knows where her sister’s house is today, but wants something in return for helping.
This creates a new question naturally from Nora’s choice. You do not need to introduce a new magical ability every time you want the plot to advance. You can simply develop the consequences of a rule readers already know.
How to revise a first draft without losing the idea
Two separate read-throughs can help. In the first, follow the events. Underline the moments when the character wants, tries or changes something. In the second, focus on explanations of the world. Mark the information readers need to understand the character’s current actions, and note what could be revealed later.
Then ask yourself four questions:
- Can readers tell after the first few paragraphs what the character wants?
- Is it clear what is currently standing in their way?
- Does the solution come from options that have already been introduced, or does it appear at the last moment?
- Does each new strange detail matter to this scene, or does it simply expand the description of the world?
If the answer to any question is no, you may not need to rewrite the whole story. Sometimes one sentence stating a specific goal, one visible consequence of a rule or moving an explanation two pages later is enough.
When these suggestions may not apply
Not every kind of fiction aims to guide readers along a clear plotline. Experimental prose may deliberately disrupt space, time and causality. A prose poem may rely primarily on associations and images. In those cases, it is perfectly valid for the story to have no clear character goal or for the world’s rules to remain unexplained.
The difference lies in the intention. If the text is meant to feel dreamlike, ambiguity is part of the experience. If you want readers to follow a character on a tense journey, they need more points of reference. You do not need to explain everything; explain what readers need in order to understand the scene.
Beware of the opposite extreme, too. Planning every detail too carefully can turn a story into a sequence of mechanical steps. If a new image or an unexpected character reaction catches your interest while you write, explore it. You can adjust the world’s logic during revision, as long as you do not create a contradiction that the story leaves unexplained.
A short exercise using one fantasy rule
Choose one unusual phenomenon that genuinely interests you. It does not have to be spectacular: perhaps there is a library where books change places whenever someone lies about them. Write down who needs to find something there today and why it matters.
Write about 300 words in which the character makes one attempt, encounters a consequence of the fantasy rule and has to decide what to try next. Only then add no more than two sentences explaining the context readers need. Compare how clearly the scene reads before and after you add them.
Your goal is not to create a perfectly prepared world. It is to write one event in which imagination changes what happens. If you can write that kind of scene, you have a firmer foundation for the next chapter than ten pages of description without a character or a decision.
