Over there is where we’ll put the Tragic Childhood.
In keeping with my New Year’s Resolution, I’ve been working faithfully on this novel manuscript since January.* During the last week, though, I’ve been writing a different part of the story.
It’s the part that happened before the book started.
Some context: a few things are hinted at through the story. What happened to So-and-So’s parents. Why that guy had to drop out of school. Stuff like that. Everyone concerned knows what they’re talking about, so they don’t need to go into much detail. And, except as character development, it doesn’t really have much to do with the current story. They’re just generally shitty thing that happened to all the main characters when they were kids.
But, while I had a pretty good idea of what happened, I didn’t know the details. Which is a bit shit when you’re trying to refer to something.
So, I’m writing it.
Most of this will not appear in the final manuscript. It’s what I’d call deep background: the stuff that shapes characters into the people they have to be to make the story happen. It will be alluded to, and occasionally someone might outright mention That Time With The Thing, How Fucked Up Was That, Did She Really Do That? But, since it has at most a tangental relationship with the story I’m telling, it’s not necessary for it to appear in its entirety.
Doesn’t mean I don’t have to know what it is, though. This is the stuff that made these characters the people they are. This is where the cracks first appeared and were papered over. This is what damaged them to the point where they will make the wrong choices. I need to know what happened so I can make sure they make the right wrong choices.
When I’m finished this, and I know what happened and what other people think happened, I can allude to it with ease. These incidents are important, all of them. And now that it’s almost done, I can see how these things serve as a prelude to the main story. They serve as the place where deeply-held ideas, the kind that shape your life, are planted. It’s the reason that main characters believe their friend could do terrible things: because it wouldn’t be the first time.
But they’ll never talk about it, because some things you don’t talk about. Some things you don’t have to.
This is the deep background. Lay it down right and it’ll tell you everything about the characters. Just try not to get lost in it.
* And keeping track with my stickers, of course.
Bare Knuckle Writer 
A basic part of good world-building. The world you build should be complete (well, at least halfway complete… an oxymoronic statement, I know). It should be logical within itself and full of details, but, just as in real life, the details are often only hinted at. Without a complete world, the hints won’t make sense. It doesn’t matter if the world is actually a world or the history of a single person or whatever. If you don’t understand that world, the reader won’t either. My world building notes often make up half of my word count. That is on the one hand depressing (god damned word count…), but on the other hand it can be an amazing resource. Sometimes, when I get stuck, I go back and read about the world I’ve created, and it gives me clues as to how to progress. This also gives the reader the feeling they are discovering that world, bit by bit, which is part of the fascination of reading.
It’s amazing how much gets put in to a really good novel that never actually appears on the page.