For those of you who may not know, I read more fantasy than anything. I write more fantasy, too. There is something about the sweeping sense of adventure through unknown worlds of magic and fantastic creatures, free of technology and real-world problems.
Take a walk down the Sci-Fi/Fantasy isle at any bookstore, and you’ll see an array of possible adventures – you could join a band of thieves in a crumbling city, be a knight on a quest, fly on the back of a dragon, fall in love with royalty, or fly through the stars with space pirates – the possibilities are only as limited as you make them. Sci-Fi and Fantasy both have that endless sense of wonder, of mystery of the unknown, of escape that the other genres don’t quite achieve.
I know that science fiction and fantasy are separate and similar. Magic/technology; wizard with a fire staff/space ranger with a mega laser. Is it magic or super high tech science?
I love a good story, but fantasy grabs me faster than sci-fi. I find pirate ships more enticing than star ships – although, if Han Solo had been a pirate on the seas rather than in the stars, he’d still be cool. (I’m sure that AU exists, but I don’t read Star Wars fan fiction.)
In fantasy, I can go anywhere, do anything! I can go on larger-than-life adventures through castles, ancient ruins, and kingdoms made of ice. I can fly through galaxies yet uncharted. I can attend a year at Hogwarts, visit Neverland, sail the seas or through the skies as a pirate; I can live on Mars or pilot a speed-racer through the Milky Way.
I can get out of this no-name, go-nowhere farm town in Illinois without ever leaving my house shoes.
I can be as brave as anyone else, as nimble, as capable, as cunning. I can be anyone, do anything. Literally, anything.
I’m only as limited as my Imagination.