The Immersive Vibes in My Storytelling
When I first envisioned Slipshot, I wasn’t merely picturing a cityscape. I was drawing from my own experiences on San Francisco’s streets — experiences that range from quiet academic corners to the unfiltered pulse of the Tenderloin district, where my protagonist, Fredrick Munchen, has his fateful encounter with Opal Fremmitty in a dark, almost secretive alley.
These encounters and the setting itself ground my story in a reality that’s as emotional as it is physical. The Tenderloin isn’t just a location; it’s a character with its own story — a story of decay, resilience, and unexpected beauty.
Crafting the Living World of the Slipshot
Places and Things
For me, building the Slipshot world started with vivid memories of San Francisco. The Tenderloin district, with its contrasting layers of urban neglect and hidden pockets of life, became my inspiration. I wandered its streets, absorbing the sensory details — the echo of footsteps on uneven pavement, the murmur of voices from late-night conversations, and the pervasive stench of rotting garbage mixed with city fog. I layer these emotions using visual images; for instance, the interplay of neon lights against decaying brick walls creates an atmosphere that is both haunting and beautiful. These sensory impressions inform every scene, whether Fredrick is navigating desolate, neon-lit alleys or pausing to appreciate the fleeting beauty of a forgotten storefront.
Social Fabric and the Living Breathing City
The Tenderloin district, with its palpable sense of abandonment yet undeniable vibrancy, is where the soul of Slipshot comes alive. Amidst the homelessness and neglect, there are moments of human connection that spark hope and evoke deep emotion. This duality is embodied in my characters — Fredrick Munchen, a man shaped by his surroundings, and Opal Fremmitty, who makes her enigmatic first appearance in a shadowed alleyway. Their meeting wasn’t orchestrated; it was born from the raw, unfiltered energy of the neighborhood — a chance encounter in a place where every face, every sound, and every fleeting visual cue tells its own story.
Money and Power
Even subtle nods to the socio-economic realities of San Francisco find their way into Slipshot. The struggles of the Tenderloin district mirror broader themes of power, neglect, and resistance. I weave these elements into the narrative not as mere background details, but as active influences on the characters’ lives. The tension between the forgotten and the vibrant fuels the internal and external conflicts faced by Fredrick and those he encounters along his journey, lending a weight to every visual image and sensory detail.
Similarly, in the realm of Griddish — another facet of my world — the imbalance of power takes on a darker hue. Griddish suffers from the same systemic neglect, where the Engineers impose a deliberate erasure of rights and dignity upon the Slaves, reinforcing a cycle of oppression. This parallel invites readers to explore the complex interplay of power dynamics across different settings in Slipshot, deepening the narrative’s exploration of resistance and the human spirit in the face of neglect.
Details Are Everything
I’ve learned that the best way to draw readers into a world is to let the story unfold through evocative details rather than over-explaining. For example, in Slipshot Vol 1.0, a passage reads:
“The walk to Gendarme Apartments on Sutter St. was a short two blocks from Temple Pizza where Fredrick had his bill-paying job. The dark, late-night streets were often crowded with odd assortments of people. Fredrick looked forward and kept his head down as he trudged along the broken, dirty sidewalks, wincing at the occasional smell of old beer and urine that would waft along the streets in light gusts from some dark, abandoned side alleys.”
This excerpt illustrates how even a simple journey can be transformed into a vivid, sensory experience.
In Slipshot Vol 2.0, as the narrative shifts to focus on a new protagonist, Cythiria Crenshaw, the immersive quality of the world deepens further:
“Cythiria kicked her feet in the air, jumping over the subway turnstiles. She pulled her hood close over her head as she landed on the other side, her waffled boots echoing a solid thunk! on hard, metal tiles.
She stepped onto the street. Bright blue LED lights, emanating from humming cars, flooded the roadways with an almost piercing glow. Above, neon flashing lights cast warm blues and yellows on the smudgy, broken sidewalk. Beyond, the milky white slash of the planetary ring cast an almost ghostly glow on distant towers that stretched towards the sky like ambitious spikes.
Cythiria glanced around, jaywalking between speeding cars until she reached a dented and rusty steel door. It was tagged with graffiti, its original design buried under newer markings, signatures of new owners wanting to claim the barren brick walls that constructed this dingy alley.
The ground under her feet felt slick. Cythiria held her breath as a warm, humid breeze pushed the smell of garbage from nearby dumpsters in her direction. She took a more gingerly step forward and then kicked the door open, diving into a dark corridor which was lined with waxy boxes and rusty metal shelves piled up with various cans and instruments.”
Both passages demonstrate how carefully selected details — the interplay of light and shadow, the layering of sounds and smells, the texture of the environment — invite readers to experience the world directly, turning mere settings into living, breathing backdrops that shape the narrative.
Exercises I Recommend for Building Your Own World
Immerse Your Senses
I often choose a key location from Slipshot — like a busy intersection or a shadowy alley in the Tenderloin — and immerse myself in the moment, experiencing every sight, sound, smell, and texture with full intensity. When I began developing the character Cythiria, I envisioned her as athletic and deeply engaged in combat arts, particularly boxing. To capture the authentic vibe of that world, I attended boxing and MMA events in person over the course of a year. I absorbed the raw energy of the crowd, the distinct sounds of cheering, and the visual intensity of each fight. I eventually became a fan of the sport myself and even took kickboxing classes. By repeatedly immersing myself in these experiences, I can later channel the genuine, visceral quality of those moments into my writing, inviting readers to feel as if they’re right there in the heart of the action.
Traverse Your Real World Spaces
Creating maps has been an essential exercise in my process. I crafted maps for Griddish, a completely fictional, sci-fi world. This practice helps me think about how characters navigate a totally imagined space, ensuring consistency and sparking ideas about movement, scale, and spatial relationships in my narrative.
Having a Job Means Having a Place
Work helps ground characters in their world. For example, Opal Fremmitty from Vol 1.0 is a Mechanic Class Slave whose job is to administer and repair Griddish tech on the Vars. Fredrick balances his life as a college student with a job at a pizza restaurant, while Matere Songgaard is an Engineer Class Citizen — a messy yet brilliant inventor dedicated to innovating upon Griddish technology. Additionally, Jeremiah Onu, Fredrick’s university professor, is not only an academic mentor but also the mysterious 1¹. Recognizing the roles characters play in their society adds depth to their identities and enriches the tapestry of the world they inhabit.
Food and Drink
Developing unique food and drink items adds another layer of sensory richness to a world. In Griddish, for instance, there is a drink called Waftring. Originating from the region of Waftring Heap, this beverage holds significant importance to the psyche of the Slaves. As Matere Songgaard explains to Cythiria:
“Even Slaves need hope. And sometimes hope means removing themselves from what binds them to their world.” He paused. “Did you ever wonder why Slaves love their Waftring so much? I have. I’ve come to the conclusion that it fulfills a very specific desire. Do you know what this is, Cythiria?”
Cythiria shook her head.
“It’s the desire for death, Cythiria. For non-existence, if only for a very short time. So, in the end, Rive Amber is really just fulfilling a very important need, but on a grand, dramatic scale, which is, honestly, so typical of her.”
This dialogue underscores how special food and drink items not only add flavor to the world but also reveal deep cultural and emotional undercurrents.
Costume Design
Costume design is an essential component of world-building. It’s not merely about aesthetics — it’s a visual shorthand that reveals a character’s role, occupation, and lifestyle. In Slipshot, I devote considerable time to developing costume concepts that align with each character’s identity. For example, a Mechanic Class Slave’s attire might be rugged and utilitarian, reflecting their hands-on work with Griddish tech. Meanwhile, Matere Songgaard’s costume reflects his nature as a messy yet brilliant inventor — clothes that are disheveled yet marked by patches of genius, hinting at long hours spent tinkering and innovating. Even academic characters like Jeremiah Onu carry subtle hints of their authority and mystery in their attire. By meticulously designing costumes, I ensure that every visual element reinforces the character’s place in the world and enriches the overall narrative tapestry.
It’s All About the Journey
Building the world of Slipshot Vol 1.0 has been a deeply personal journey. The Tenderloin district — with all its contrasts and contradictions — has not only shaped my narrative but also redefined my understanding of what it means to create a living, breathing setting. Every crumbling building, every dimly lit alley, and every unexpected encounter — like the one between Fredrick Munchen and Opal Fremmitty — reminds me that a well-crafted environment, layered with visual images and sensory details, can elevate a story from a simple narrative to an immersive experience.