What does it mean to write fiction that speculates "beyond" our world?
I began my journey as an English major at UC Davis by taking ENL 173: Science Fiction, the materials of which were carefully curated and succinctly taught by Professor Colin Milburn. I came away from that class with a revived love for literature and a particular interest in the works of Ursula K. Le Guin, who at that point I had not read much of. While The Left Hand of Darkness easily became one of my favorite novels of all time, it was in the “Introduction” that I truly began to understand the type of genre I was entering—both as a reader and as a writer.
In the “Introduction,” Le Guin makes explicit her stance on the genre: “Science fiction is not predictive; it is descriptive.” Science fiction has allowed us to venture forth into worlds both unknown and yet recognizable, utilizing cognitive estrangement as a way of easing us into an imagined reality that may not be entirely unfounded. Though the surface of the world may appear foreign, manufactured even, as we delve further into the story we come to recognize ourselves amidst these strange characters and their even stranger tools. Because of this, I argue that Le Guin’s claim is not only applicable to science fiction, but to speculative fiction more broadly.
Speculating and (Re)presenting Distant and Present Worlds
Though speculative fiction encompasses various genres—including but not limited to science fiction, fantasy, science fantasy, magical realism, utopian/dystopian fiction, and so forth—I will focus primarily on the element of world-building both for its broadness and its prominence in creative writing overall.
Some of the bigger questions that have emerged in recent discourse deal with the claims (and critiques) of authenticity and authority. That is, to what extent can a writer claim their world is authentic despite being speculative? And, to what extent can a writer claim authority over their (re)presentation of the world? As we seek to create original worlds, perhaps we must balance answering the question of “What if?” with the question of “What is happening in the world right now?”
For some, this task can prove more challenging than others. Fiction often operates as an escape from reality—a much-needed reprieve from the personal, local, and global troubles of real life. I write this not to dismiss speculative fiction’s escapist gateways, but to acknowledge and emphasize the fact that we cannot truly speculate about a different past, present, or future, without first considering what our present state of the world is. To ignore reality is to risk accidentally (re)producing its violent and harrowing effects in our works. As readers and writers, we must actively engage in further conversation with each other about the types of worlds we wish to create and represent. Given that one of the most common pieces of writing advice is to “start writing about what you know,” and given that we are real people who go through real-world events and experiences and emotions (unlike artificial intelligence), our realities will inevitably bleed into our fictions whether we want them to or not. But this ‘inevitability’ does not have to be a bad thing—in fact, it can become a writer’s greatest tool, if handled with proper care.
Conclusion: Truths and Fictions
To return to Le Guin, I wish to underscore one final claim, and that is “that the truth is a matter of the imagination.” To combat the harsh, often violent ‘truths’ of reality, we must utilize our own imaginations and speculations and curiosities as a means of pushing towards a better (and kinder) world that may not actually be entirely fictive. Remember, authenticity and authority, like fiction and reality, must not be taken for granted—in fact, we must always approach our worlds with caution and care, for our own authentic experiences and authoritative claims may end up committing more harm than good. With that, I end with this notion:
Speculative fiction will continue to serve as a vehicle for extrapolating from a distant past and imagining a plausible future—and, as we continue to navigate the real world, describing a hopeful now.
Written by Ri Herrera. They’re an English and Sociology major who enjoys speculating about the world within and beyond their writing. Outside of writing, they enjoy sketching, listening to film scores, and conducting qualitative research to highlight marginalized voices.
