Writing The Rule of Cool

In writing, world building is a very necessary preliminary to the actual telling of the story. The characters need a stage and scenery where they can play their parts. Especially in science fiction, it is common for the writer to apply the Rule of Cool. Things are done this way because it’s cool. Star Wars doesn’t stop the story to explain why the Rebellion’s X-wing fighters are able to take out Star Destroyers, or why the Empire builds them in the first place if they can be. It’s cool. That’s sufficient.

The Rule of Cool falls pretty flat if the reader doesn’t agree that what the writer says is cool actually is. I’m going to take a little deeper look at cool, to see if I can’t uncover a little more of what cool is, and what makes something cool.

A much used archetype of cool is the fighter pilot. Movies and novels innumerable have exploited the cool factor of the lone warrior in his aerial steed, far above the mud and blood of the battlefield. Science fiction has not been slow to draw on it, either. Luke Skywalker had plenty of predecessors.

The American cowboy, the lone adventurer with a horse and a gun, is also surrounded by the aura of cool. When he does battle for the right, (or the wrong) it’s a lone fight, often against the odds.

A ship, whether modern, historical or futuristic, has a Captain, and the focus is almost always on him. From Horatio Hornblower on his quarterdeck to James Kirk on the bridge of the Enterprise, he is in the centre of the limelight, with his trusty crew behind him. He’s the one who bears the weight of command and makes the key decisions.

There are lots of other examples, and that list can go on for quite a while, but I think the point is made.

Weapons can also be cool in their own right. This way to the Sword in the Stone, folks. One try to a customer. Luke’s lightsaber, inherited from dear old Dad, was a definite attention getter.

There are plenty of examples, but the pattern has emerged. Cool is about individuals, human or otherwise.

The examples above are particular to Western culture, of course. Other cultures will have their own bearers of the flame of cool.

Basically, cool is the exemplar or defender of the values of the culture we’re talking about, and is almost always an individual, whether acting alone or the leader of the crew.

So, if you build a new society, a new culture, for your science fiction or fantasy story, you have some work to do. What are that culture’s values? Specifically, what does it consider necessary to its survival?

A lot of fantasy uses Medieval Europe as a template. Land was the big deal there, and the armoured knight and his castle were there to defend it, with the aura of cool shining around him.

Great Britain considered sea-borne trade and sea power to be essential to their existence, so we have the gallant sea captains of the Age of Sail daring the briny deep in both fact and fiction.

In the world of Harry Potter, magic is where it’s at in their culture. He took down Voldemort and saved them from that existential threat, so the mantle of cool fell on to his shoulders.

Now, there does need to be overlap, here. Cool has to be relevant to the culture, but it also has to be recognizable to your readers. That’s why we see archetypes from our culture repurposed in those future/fantasy worlds.

Now, occasionally, someone manages to invent a new archetype of cool. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle did that with Sherlock Holmes, and Ian Fleming with James Bond. It’s hard to do. The audience decides, not the author.

Now, again, writers repurpose the bearers of cool in new environments. Poul Anderson’s Dominic Flandry clearly owes a lot to James Bond. Innumerable detectives right down to the present day can trace their line of descent back to Sherlock Holmes. Some of those lines get rather tangled, to be sure.

The foregoing isn’t intended to be a set of rules. As the pirate said to the Captain, “It’s more like a guideline.”