Does Every World Need A Sky?

World building problems 101

World-building is hard. There, I said it. I love creating characters, giving them quirks, cool outfits, and questionable life choices, but the moment I have to actually put them somewhere, my brain starts buffering like a dodgy Wi-Fi connection.

Does this scene need a sprawling city skyline?

A cosy bookshop?

A sky?

(Does every illustration need a sky? What if it’s just implied? What if we all agree there is a sky, but I don’t actually have to draw it? No? Okay, fine.)

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The Eternal World-Building Crisis

The thing about world-building is that it’s deceptively simple in theory. “Just make a setting!” they say. “Bring it to life!” they say. But in practice? It’s a never-ending spiral of decisions.

• How much detail is too much?
  Do I need to show every brick on that building, or can I just vaguely suggest “building-ness” and call it a day?

• Colour or black and white?
  If I go full colour, will it be rich and immersive, or will it become a chaotic soup of hues that makes everyone’s eyes hurt?

• Does this world feel real?
  If I add an abandoned teacup on a café table, will it subtly hint at a story, or will people just think I forgot to finish the background?

• What am I even trying to say with this world?
  Should this feel warm and inviting? Mysterious and unsettling? Like the kind of place where people regularly get chased by sentient chickens? (An underused storytelling trope, in my opinion.)

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To sky or not to sky- that is the question!

What Advice Should I Give Myself?

Since I am currently spiraling into the existential void of artistic decision-making, I have decided to be both problem and solution by offering myself some highly questionable wisdom:

1. Not Every Brick Needs to Be Drawn
   Yes, details are great, but suggestion is powerful. If I spend an entire afternoon rendering the world’s most intricate cobblestone street, I will absolutely lose my mind.

2. The Sky Is Optional (Until It’s Not)
   Not every illustration needs a dramatic sunset. Sometimes, vague atmospheric lighting is enough. Other times, a giant ominous storm cloud hovering over a character’s head says more than dialogue ever could.

3. Every Object is a Storytelling Opportunity
   A wonky streetlamp. A half-melted candle. A stack of slightly off-kilter books. Details should earn their place in a scene—if they don’t add to the world, they’re just visual clutter. (I say this as someone who regularly clutters my own illustrations.)

4. Make It Feel Lived In
   Nothing takes me out of an illustrated world faster than a scene that looks like a showroom. Life is messy. Books aren’t perfectly stacked, chairs aren’t all neatly arranged, and there is probably at least one discarded sock somewhere.

5. Trust the Vibes
   If a world feels right, it is right. Sometimes, gut instinct trumps overthinking. If I have spent more than an hour agonising over whether the leaves on a tree should be pointy or rounded, I need to take a deep breath and go eat a biscuit.

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What About You?

Do you struggle with world-building? Do you find yourself lost in the tiny details, wondering if you’ve gone too far or not far enough? And, most importantly, do you think every illustration really needs a sky? Let’s debate.

Until next time—keep building those worlds, leaving mysterious teacups in odd places, and accepting that sometimes, the sky is just implied.

Kim