Fantasy
A map can be perfectly accurate and still tell the reader almost nothing useful.
Fantasy maps often get treated like proof of seriousness, when the real job is simpler: give me enough distance, danger and direction that the journey feels like it has weight. I do not need every ridge named if the story never asks me to care about the ridge. I do need to know why crossing it matters, and what it costs.
Too many maps explain geography and forget atmosphere. The better ones make you feel the road before anyone walks it.
Fantasy maps often get treated like proof of seriousness, when the real job is simpler: give me enough distance, danger and direction that the journey feels like it has weight. I do not need every ridge named if the story never asks me to care about the ridge. I do need to know why crossing it matters, and what it costs.
Too many maps explain geography and forget atmosphere. The better ones make you feel the road before anyone walks it.
A map can also overpromise. If it looks too neat, I start expecting the story to be neat as well, and that’s usually where the trouble begins.
What I want is a sense of friction. Not every mountain needs a label, but the route should suggest where people get tired, where they get lost, where they might stop to argue or fall in love or both. A map that only shows shape is decoration.
What I want is a sense of friction. Not every mountain needs a label, but the route should suggest where people get tired, where they get lost, where they might stop to argue or fall in love or both. A map that only shows shape is decoration.