Anyone who has spent any amount of time talking to me about science fiction knows that I have a soft spot for the Space Opera subgenre. In my opinion, it combines the best of all possible science fiction (and some fantasy) elements into a blockbuster package.

A perfect storm of creativity.

Before I continue, I want to take a moment to define Space Opera for those not really familiar with the term. Wikipedia says that a Space Opera is “a subgenre of science fiction set mainly or entirely in outer space, that emphasizes space warfare and melodramatic adventure, and often risk-taking as well as chivalric romance; usually involving conflict between opponents possessing advanced abilities, futuristic weapons and other sophisticated technology.” Specific examples are: Star Wars, The Fifth Element, Farscape, Starship Troopers, Guardians of the Galaxy, and others. 

My newest work in progress, Infinity’s Heir, falls somewhere within the space opera subgenre. Reading the first few chapters, it might not seem that way, but a few chapters later the fun begins.

Infinity’s Heir takes place on a planet far from earth and is ruled by a king. The people living under his rule prosper because of his protection, but one day, that protection falls. The result is far more catastrophic than anyone could have ever guessed and things begin to tear at the seams. For the first 13 chapters of the book, the main character is stuck on this planet, desperately trying to find a way off – to somehow get away from the impossible situation that has been created on his home, so that he can find a way to fix it.

As the book progresses, the main character slowly beings to see more and more of the world he grew up on as he struggles to escape from it. Then, in chapter 14, he discovers what is beyond that world. It’s sudden, unexpected, and jarring for all of the characters involved.

This is what makes writing space operas so fun.

Think back to the first time you watched Star Wars. The movie opens with a battle and Princess Leia being captured by Lord Vader. We can see that there is a greater conflict out in space, but we are given only the barest glimpse of them before the door is slammed in our face and we are jettisoned to the surface of Tatooine. We spend a good amount of time there with Luke, seeing the world as he sees it and as the movie progresses, so does our understanding of the universe he lives in.

It’s a fantastic progression and one that is common to many space operas.

I’m working on a similar progression in Infinity’s Heir. The first snippet of the book gives a glimpse into the universe past the world where the main character lives. I focus on that world for a few chapters, before slowly having the main character quest to leave it. When he finally does, discovering what lies beyond – and how different it all is – winds up being a massive development.

For both the writer and the reader, the eventual payoff has to be worth it. It has to convey the awe and excitement that few other experiences do. This may sound a bit overreaching for something as simple as a novel, but that feeling of discovery – of gazing into the unknown – is vitally important when crafting a space opera.

And that brings me to the next best thing about writing space operas – the creation of that unique universe.

Once the veil has been pulled back, things are different. The small space the characters were trapped in before no longer exists. Instead, they find themselves in a universe more massive than they could possibly imagine. The onus falls on the writer to define that universe. It isn’t just important to create that initial feeling of awe. The writer is tasked with continuing those feelings while, at the same time, making sure that what the characters (and reader) are experiencing feels authentic.

I really enjoy world building. Even in my mystery novel, Over the Edge, I take the time to create a fictional town in upstate New York and fill it with people (you can read more about that in my Discovering Pine Falls post). Though it may not be an overly exciting place, I want it to be defined enough that the reader can get a clear picture of where the characters are as they read through the novel. In effect, the setting has to be as important a character as any other.

I’ve mentioned this before and I can’t stress this feeling enough.

And I can definitely see how the setting (and the attention an author pays to it) affects my own reading habits. Many times in the past, I’ve stopped reading novels because the setting is so dull, yet described in such excruciating detail. Now, I should be the last person to complain about this since I have such a soft spot for exposition, but I’ve spent a lot of time working to excise much of that type of writing from my own work. Exposition and exhaustive description is useful, but has its own time and place within a work. Every few paragraphs is not it.

But when done well, the payout is fantastic.

For me, a perfect example is A Darkling Sea by James L. Cambias. The story takes place on a world like Europa, with a sea beneath a thick sheet of ice covering the surface. Humans have a research base beneath the ice, surveying the ocean for life. Things happen and discoveries are made, but the attention to detail in the novel is absolutely fantastic. It manages to feel doubly alien since it’s a science fiction novel that takes place in an ocean in deep space – a fact that Cambias never lets you forget. Now, he’s come out with a second book and I’m super excited about reading it.

This kind of excitement is created by crafting a world that readers can be passionate about. That kind of writing is paramount to the space opera subgenre (and any other if we’re being honest).

In the end, it all comes back to atmosphere.

Infinity’s Heir feels like my best work yet and I’m exited about continuing to add to it. Over the coming weeks, I’ll start working on transitioning my characters from their small box to a greater universe. I only hope I that I can do as good of a job as countless other authors before me have.

Will I? Only time will tell.