Out next week is F. T. Lukens’ latest, Otherworldly, so to whet your appetite for what is bound to be the best kind of combination of paranormal adventure and romance, F. T. wrote a guest post for us about some of what inspired their worldbuilding!
Before you dive in (or even after!), you can still preorder Otherworldly so that it’ll arrive on your doorstep (or ereader-step) for you to sink your teeth into right away!
Otherworldly is a queer paranormal romance that blends elements of classical mythology and Faustian bargains within a contemporary setting. And while I could write pages about the classical myths that are used or the narrative archetype of making a deal with an otherworldly being, for this article, I wanted to talk about one of the more personal worldbuilding elements. And that is of the use of liminal spaces throughout the narrative.
I currently live in the mountains of North Carolina, but my childhood hometown is on the east coast of Virginia. I know the route between the two cities I’ve called home like the back of my hand. And I know where all the good rest stops are along the way. Which may seem a weird thing to write, but for anyone that travels often, knowing the good exits on the interstate is an important detail when driving.
One night as I was traveling alone in the wee hours of the morning, I pulled off into one of the rest areas I’ve used often because of it being close to the halfway point. I drove down the access road and pulled my car right in front of the building. The parking lot and the surroundings were lit up as normal, but the rest stop was completely empty. Completely. Not a soul in sight. No cars. No truckers on the other side. No one. It was absolutely void of people. And it was silent. The usual overhead 90’s playlist wasn’t running and there was no chatter from other travelers, no wind in the leaves of the trees, and no plunk of the vending machines. The only sound present was the low-level hum of the lights.
I was immediately unsettled. I texted my spouse to let him know I had stopped, which is a good safety precaution in general but especially in the middle of the night, and then ran inside, ran back out, and left as quickly as possible. The whole situation was so eerie and so unnerving that I didn’t even stop for the vending machines. And once I was back on the road, I didn’t breathe a sigh of relief until I met another car on the highway.
Why was I so creeped out? This was a place that I’d visited often. It should’ve been a comfort on the journey between two locations. I didn’t encounter any shadowy figures like the characters do in Otherworldly, or even a glowing doorway. Yet, it still was an uncanny experience because an empty rest area is a liminal space. Rest areas themselves could be deemed a liminal space as they are a transitional location and not a destination. However, an empty rest area in which the buildings and the entire vicinity are not serving their designated purpose definitely becomes a liminal space.
Liminal spaces have become quite a popular aesthetic on the internet in the past few years due to the pandemic. A simple google search of liminal spaces will pop up a variety of images such as empty malls, winding staircases, caves, and abandoned buildings. But the concept of liminality has been around for a long time. Per Merriam-Webster, liminal means the following: “In its most common extended meaning now, it describes a state, place, or condition of transition, as in ‘the liminal zone between sleep and wakefulness.’” For physical places, a liminal space can be anywhere there is a physical threshold, like doorways to the Other World, or places that are in states of transition—empty amusement parks before opening season or a fallow cornfield waiting to be planted. Places that are not meant to be destinations are also included like a crossroads. They can be uncomfortable and eerie and invoke a sense of loneliness or unnaturalness.
Liminal can also refer to an emotional or mental state as well. A liminal state of being can occur when someone is in a period of transition such as when moving away from home or leaving a job or experiencing life after the loss of a loved one.
Throughout Otherworldly, the characters experience liminal spaces just like I did in the empty rest area. They visit an abandoned mall, are accosted in a dark alleyway, travel to a barren cornfield, and live in a city with a dwindling population. These settings lend to the background eeriness that permeates the story as the characters experience the disconcerting feelings of these liminal places.
But beyond that, it wasn’t just the physical liminal space of the rest area that informed the worldbuilding of the book, but an emotional and mental one as well. In my story above, there was also the transition of traveling from one home to another. Of moving from my childhood community toward a new community that would only know me as an adult. And in that move toward independence, there was the growth toward making decisions for myself that might be counter to the decisions that a parent/caregiver may have made for me. The back and forth between the home that I had made in the mountains and the former home of eastern Virginia was not only a physical transition but an emotional and mental one as well.
That too finds its way into Otherworldly. The main character, Ellery, is in a period of transition. They have left their home, moved to a new city, and they are in the process of leaving behind where they’ve been but are unsure of where they are going. They are also in a transitional spot in their relationship with their parents. They are on the cusp of adulthood and are unsure of how to move forward into making their own decisions. Ellery’s character and their growth throughout the narrative is something to which most if not all readers can relate. It will especially resonate with teen readers and queer readers who may be experiencing their own coming-of-age, or are trans, non-binary, and/or genderqueer, or are questioning and trying on different labels.
Experiencing seasons of change isn’t limited to young adults. They’re constant throughout our lifetimes. I experienced one earlier in the year when I left my day job and then again when my mother passed away. We’ll all experience moments of transition and liminality, even if they are mundane and not supernatural. But hopefully, not all of us will experience abandoned rest areas. If you happen to, please text a friend or loved one before going in and keep an eye out for any shady figures. You never know what type of bargain they may want to make.
About F. T. Lukens
F.T. Lukens is a New York Times bestselling author of YA speculative fiction including the novels Spell Bound, So This Is Ever After (2023 ALA Rainbow Booklist; 2022 Goodreads Choice Awards nominee), In Deeper Waters (2022 ALA Rainbow Booklist; Junior Library Guild Selection), and the forthcoming Otherworldly as well as other science-fiction and fantasy works. F.T. resides in North Carolina with their spouse, three kids, three dogs, and three cats.
