His eyes were the color of rubies! And when his fangs pressed against my flesh I felt…
No. Not that kind. The oh my lord did he just rip someone’s spine out on live TV? kind.
So why haven’t I written fantasy before? I mean, Q, Dorian Gray, and a fae-loving vampire all reside in worlds so ridiculous they might make you snarf your beverage hard enough to fountain out of your nose. And that’s about the only reason to write anything.
Ridiculous. And yet, totally awesome!
That’s why I’ve started writing fantasy. It’s a job for the awesomely nutters. Over the top, imagination-stretching plots where drinking unicorn blood is a sign of the wizard-pocalypse is right up my alley. And in fantasy, the difference between the real world and the fantasy world can be as varied as an entire world of color-blind people, or a countryside rampant with winged cats.
I’m like a kid in a candy store. Except with words. Frankly, I’m shocked it’s never occurred to me to write fantasy before.
Granted, some fantasies are higher quality than others. Rebels fight old ugly dude and his asthmatic sidekick bent on galactic domination probably trumps Sharktopus eats bikini-clad girls with bad acting skills in terms of quality. But both deliver on their premises, so everyone’s happy.
And that’s pretty much the only rule in Speculative Fiction (that’s what the literature cognoscenti are calling it these days). Deliver on the premise. Other than that, go nuts. Like, literally nuts.
[Image from: http://www.geekologie.com/2007/05/cat_grows_wings.php]