Why I Write Urban Fantasy
Like most people who write about the paranormal, I have people ask me why I write about "weird things" instead of so-called normal stuff. The standard answer–the answer most of us who write about "weird things" give people when we’re asked that question–is that I write the kind of stuff I like to read. Which usually leads to "Why do you like to read that?" I suppose I could be flip and respond by asking why some people like to wear shoes that look like torture devices or let a stranger with a needle engrave pictures on their skin. It all comes down to personal preference. Tomato, tomahto.
The truth is, most writers are dreamers; we live in a world of our own imagination. We create it, we populate it, we control it. We are, in essence, its god. And when we’re writing, we immerse ourselves in that world–the way it looks, smells, and feels. We can hear its heartbeat, we can feel our characters’ failures and triumphs. And we can make that world as normal or abnormal as our imaginations allow.
As an urban fantasy writer, I liken the things I write about–monsters, demons, vampires, etc.–to a metaphor for the struggles many people face in their own lives. No, we don’t actually battle monsters and demons in the real world (at least, I don’t think so)–but we all live with inner monsters and demons, things that haunt, control, or threaten to destroy us, whether they be thoughts, deeds, or decisions. Skeletons rattling around in our closets, both physical and emotional, that can at times make our lives a living nightmare.
For instance, I recently dealt with the death of both my parents within six months of each other. I tried to power through the grief, figuring if I just ignored the pain, it would eventually go away, but grief isn’t a kind roommate. Like most emotional trauma, grief waits for you in the dark, a greedy demon that demands its pound of flesh. You either face it head on and conquer it, or ignore it and let it slowly tear your soul apart.
That’s how trauma affects us. At some point in our lives, we will all face gut-wrenching, life altering experiences. And regardless of where it comes from or how it happens, we have to find a way to either best it or live with it. It’s something we have in common with every other person on the planet; an archetype of the human condition.
The ancient Greeks knew that. They wrote morality plays that, on the surface, told the stories of gods and monsters, but on a deeper level, their plays were metaphors for aspects of the human condition. And just like them, the stories we write today, regardless of the medium or genre, are the same stories that all writers have been writing since pen was first put to paper. As they say, there are no new stories, just new ways to tell them. When you look past the messenger, you see that the message itself is universal.
I may write urban fantasy because my devious little imagination is populated by paranormal characters living in fantastical worlds, but the things they do–the demons they fight–are as common to us all as a bad dream.
The truth is, most writers are dreamers; we live in a world of our own imagination. We create it, we populate it, we control it. We are, in essence, its god. And when we’re writing, we immerse ourselves in that world–the way it looks, smells, and feels. We can hear its heartbeat, we can feel our characters’ failures and triumphs. And we can make that world as normal or abnormal as our imaginations allow.
As an urban fantasy writer, I liken the things I write about–monsters, demons, vampires, etc.–to a metaphor for the struggles many people face in their own lives. No, we don’t actually battle monsters and demons in the real world (at least, I don’t think so)–but we all live with inner monsters and demons, things that haunt, control, or threaten to destroy us, whether they be thoughts, deeds, or decisions. Skeletons rattling around in our closets, both physical and emotional, that can at times make our lives a living nightmare.
For instance, I recently dealt with the death of both my parents within six months of each other. I tried to power through the grief, figuring if I just ignored the pain, it would eventually go away, but grief isn’t a kind roommate. Like most emotional trauma, grief waits for you in the dark, a greedy demon that demands its pound of flesh. You either face it head on and conquer it, or ignore it and let it slowly tear your soul apart.
That’s how trauma affects us. At some point in our lives, we will all face gut-wrenching, life altering experiences. And regardless of where it comes from or how it happens, we have to find a way to either best it or live with it. It’s something we have in common with every other person on the planet; an archetype of the human condition.
The ancient Greeks knew that. They wrote morality plays that, on the surface, told the stories of gods and monsters, but on a deeper level, their plays were metaphors for aspects of the human condition. And just like them, the stories we write today, regardless of the medium or genre, are the same stories that all writers have been writing since pen was first put to paper. As they say, there are no new stories, just new ways to tell them. When you look past the messenger, you see that the message itself is universal.
I may write urban fantasy because my devious little imagination is populated by paranormal characters living in fantastical worlds, but the things they do–the demons they fight–are as common to us all as a bad dream.
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