Between Pen and Paper: Flaneuring Through a Writer’s Mind – Why the Inescapable Laws of Nature Matter to Storytellers
By Andi Kopek
This month, we’ll experience the shortest day of the year—a cosmic reminder that no matter how aggressively we caffeinate our mornings, how many apps we invent, or how many wars we start or can’t end, Earth continues tilting its stubborn 23.5 degrees and throwing snow in our faces.
We may adapt the environment to our needs—insulate it, refrigerate it, pave it, terraform it (fictionally, for now)—but as a species we remain lashed, quite firmly, to the cosmos and its unamused laws of physics.
It’s a humbling thought: even our wildest science-fiction flights depend on what the universe permits. You can bend physics only so far, stretch it only so thin—try to wink at it, and it raises an eyebrow (or the reader lowers their lips in disappointment). Even the fictional worlds we create must ultimately rest on the four fundamental laws of nature:
General Relativity
The Standard Model of Particle Physics
Quantum Mechanics
The Laws of Thermodynamics
These aren’t optional. They are the pillars holding up our worlds, real or imaginary—four immense supports of a suspension bridge stretching into the unknown on both ends. We stand upon it, preoccupied with our current state of affairs, trying to unravel the past or imagine futures, while quarks and entropy play on the cables like Einstein bowing a violin.
Creatives who like to play in a sandbox built by these laws are called sci-fi writers. I became a devoted fan of the genre growing up in Poland in the ’70s, when it offered a rare loophole—a way to smuggle big, dangerous, philosophical ideas past the watchful gaze of the Big Communist Brother. Perhaps some of you, concerned with our own modern flavors of censorship, will take the hint. Maybe your next detective story or mystery will unfold not in Nashville as we know it, but on a distant world; maybe the serial killer you’re chasing isn’t hiding in East Nashville but on PSR B1620−26b (the ancient Methuselah Planet) located in the southern arm of the Milky Way, y’all.
The best sci-fi stories I’ve read use scientific principles not as shackles but as springboards for imagination. Here are a few worth keeping in mind:
Gravity. Gravity determines body size, structure, mobility, and evolution; it influences circulation, muscle mass, bone density, and even how tall a creature dares to grow. A world with twice Earth’s gravity won’t give you graceful gazelles—it’ll give you grumpy, compact, low-slung creatures muttering at an early age about knee pain.
Atmospheric Composition. Life requires a medium for energy exchange. For us, that medium is oxygen, but other molecules could take its place: nitrogen, carbon dioxide, methane, even sulfur compounds. Change the atmosphere, and you change the biochemistry—and the smell of everything.
Radiation. Cosmic rays (which are mostly high-speed protons) and various types of electromagnetic radiation—infrared, ultraviolet, and microwave—constantly pepper planets. This radiation might nurture life, mutate it (which could mean more diseases but also faster evolution), or erase it.
Temperature. Most Earth life functions within a narrow temperature window (from about –20°C to +70°C), the range ideal for our enzymes and our chemistry. Below 0°C, life largely halts; by – 20°C, most biochemical reactions have effectively stopped. In the opposite direction, proteins denature above +50°C, and DNA strands come apart above +70°C. That’s the limit of our chemistry.
The Universal Solvent. These temperature limits mostly reflect our reliance on water as a solvent. Water freezes at 0°C and boils at 100°C. Swap water for something else—say, methane, which freezes at –183°C—and life would look radically different. Imagine fish made of wax moving through liquid natural gas.
Magnetic Field. Charged cosmic particles—again, mostly high-energy protons—are deflected by Earth’s magnetic field, which acts as a planetary shield. Without that shield, life on Earth’s surface would be devastated… though not entirely erased. Some extremophiles would endure: certain bacteria (including the famous Conan the Bacterium), fungi (including even more famous Black Mold of Chernobyl), their spores, lichens (a fungus–cyanobacterium partnership), and the legendary indestructible animals—the water bears.
Planet’s Orbit & Tilt. Our planet’s tilt gives us the four seasons; an eccentric orbit would deliver wilder temperature swings. Too much tilt and you get seasonal mayhem; too little, and every day feels like Nashville in March.
Type of Planet’s Star. A star sets a planet’s energy budget as well as day–night rhythm. Remember: the amount of energy a planet receives from its star is inversely proportional to the square of its distance. Double the distance, and the light drops to a quarter. This simple math already creates a universe of possibilities for a writer.
Plate Tectonics / Geologic Activity. This feature is important for creating continents, mountains, mineral deposits, as well as tsunamis and nice views. It also maintains an atmosphere and recycles carbon.
Chemistry & Availability of Essential Elements. Life (as we know it) requires six main elements: carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, nitrogen, phosphorus, and sulfur. But don’t forget the trace metals: iron, magnesium, molybdenum, copper, and nickel. Without them, enzymes don’t work, cells don’t breathe, and metabolism collapses.
So as you sit through this shortest of days, muttering at the early sunset and your cold coffee, remember: the universe with its laws is not your enemy. The cosmos is your co-author. As writers, we should honor the laws that shape our worlds, knowing that imagination deepens—not shrinks—when it leans on truth. If sci-fi authors could sneak philosophy past censors in 1970s Poland, you can certainly sneak a detective onto a distant exoplanet. The shortest day of the year is a great opportunity to recall that we’re temporary passengers on a tilted, spinning, pale blue dot rushing through mostly empty space at 1,300,000 mph*. We are nobody. Let’s respect the laws of nature and enjoy the ride and creativity.
Andi
*1,300,000 mph is the speed of the Earth moving through the cosmos as a part of the Milky Way galaxy’s journey relative to the Cosmic Microwave Background.
Andi Kopek is a multidisciplinary artist based in Nashville, TN. With a background in medicine, molecular neuroscience, and behavioral change, he has recently devoted himself entirely to the creative arts. His debut poetry collection, Shmehara, has garnered accolades in both literary and independent film circles for its innovative storytelling.
When you’re in Nashville, you can join Andi at his monthly poetry workshop, participate in the Libri Prohibiti book club (both held monthly at the Spine bookstore, Smyrna, TN), or catch one of his live performances. When not engaging with the community, he's hard at work on his next creative project or preparing for his monthly art-focused podcast, The Samovar(t) Lounge: Steeping Conversations with Creative Minds, where in a relaxed space, invited artists share tea and the never-told intricacies of their creative journeys.
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