Science Fict…err, I mean Fantasy

The Forgotten Genre: Why Science Fantasy Deserves More Recognition

When someone mentions Star Wars or Star Trek, most people immediately label them as "sci-fi" without a second thought. We toss them into the same category as 2001: A Space Odyssey, Dune, and War of the Worlds, calling it a day. But this literary landscape is far more nuanced than we give it credit for.

There's a genre that seamlessly merges science fiction with fantasy—and chances are, some of your favorite "sci-fi" stories actually belong to it.

The Space Wizards Among Us

Did you hear the story about the space wizards on starships? Of course you have—it's Star Wars. But here's the thing: those Jedi "mind powers" are never scientifically explained. The Force isn't quantified or analyzed; it simply is. Obi-Wan doesn't pull out a scientific journal to explain midi-chlorians (and let's be honest, we all pretend that explanation doesn't exist anyway). The Force operates on mysticism, not methodology—and that's the realm of science fantasy.

Even Star Trek, often held up as the gold standard of hard sci-fi, dips its toes into fantasy waters. Betazoid telepaths, omnipotent beings like Q, and the Prophets living in Bajoran wormholes—none of these concepts get the full scientific treatment. Trek simply presents them as facts of its universe and moves on. They just are—and that's science fantasy at work.

Drawing the Line

So what exactly separates science fiction from science fantasy?

Science fiction explores concepts rooted in scientific possibility. It asks "What if?" and grounds its answers in research, theory, and logical extrapolation from what we know about reality. Think The Martian's meticulous survival scenarios or Foundation's psychohistory mathematics.

Science fantasy, on the other hand, embraces mysticism and magic without feeling obligated to provide scientific handholds. It creates fantastic elements that exist simply because the story needs them to exist. Yet it maintains the technological trappings we associate with sci-fi—starships, aliens, advanced civilizations.

Star Wars perfectly embodies this blend: city-sized Star Destroyers coexist with lightsaber-wielding space wizards. Star Trek gives us starships and space stations alongside its unexplained psychic phenomena. The technology is scientific, but the wonders are magical.

Why This Matters

Understanding this distinction isn't just academic nitpicking—it's about appreciating stories on their own terms. Science fantasy operates by different rules, and that freedom is precisely what makes it so compelling. When you're not constrained by scientific plausibility, you can focus entirely on character, theme, and pure storytelling wonder.

There are no rigid rules in fantasy, and that's what makes it great. Science fantasy gets to have its cake and eat it too: the vast scope and technological marvels of science fiction, combined with the limitless imagination of fantasy.

The Genre That Dares to Dream

Science fantasy might be science fiction's slightly more mystical cousin, but it has given us some of our most beloved stories. From the space operas that sparked our imagination to the weird fiction that challenges our assumptions, science fantasy dares to ask not just "What if?" but "What if anything is possible?"

So the next time someone dismisses a story as "just sci-fi," consider whether you're looking at something more magical. In a universe where space wizards can exist alongside hyperdrives, maybe it's time we gave science fantasy the recognition it deserves.

After all, sometimes the best way to explore the future is to let a little magic light the way.

Bloggy Muses and Ponderings

Beyond Perfect Heroes: Why SFF Needs More Disabled Characters

Picture the typical science fiction or fantasy hero in your mind. Chances are, you're imagining someone with a chiseled jawline, perfect posture, and the kind of physical prowess that makes mere mortals weep with envy. Space operas and SFF in general have long portrayed their protagonists as flawless embodiments of human potential—characters who are essentially flesh-and-bone sculptures knocking on the door to godhood.

Think about it: the perfect Space Marine whose moral compass never wavers, who always makes the right decision without hesitation, who's never unsure of their next step. They can leap tall buildings in a single bound—wait, that's someone else, but you get the idea.

Whether they wear capes or pilot starships, these heroes make the rest of us feel like we're perpetually coming up short. And that's a problem no one can live up to—especially those of us who aren't able-bodied.

The Reality Check

Here's what many SFF stories miss: dealing with chronic pain and mobility limitations can make taking a shower, running the vacuum, or doing a load of laundry feel like genuinely heroic feats. Our moral compass remains intact, our desire to do the right thing is fully functional—even when our legs, backs, or other parts of our bodies are not.

That disconnect between "perfect hero" and "real human experience" is exactly why I created Cullen Baisley, a starship commander who deals with chronic pain in my novel.

Meet a Different Kind of Hero

Cullen suffered a spinal injury that would have left him paralyzed if he'd been born in our century. Fortunately for him, he's living in the 61st century with access to advanced medical technology. Nanodrone injections mend his spine—but there's a catch. He needs daily treatments, or the effects lapse and his legs fail him.

This isn't a magical cure that erases all consequences. Cullen's condition fundamentally affects how he approaches missions, when he chooses to push himself, and how he relies on his crew. Rather than making him weaker, it makes him a more thoughtful, strategic leader. He can't rely solely on physical prowess, so he develops other strengths—emotional intelligence, tactical thinking, and the wisdom to know when to delegate.

The Question We Should Be Asking

Does Cullen's disability make him any less worthy of being a hero? Does yours make you any less capable of greatness?

Of course not. So why do disabled characters get less representation in our favorite genres? Why are they so often sidelined, cured by magic, or treated as inspiration porn rather than complex, fully-realized protagonists?

The Future We Deserve

Science fiction has always been about imagining better futures—not just technologically, but socially. Yet many SFF stories still cling to outdated notions of what makes someone heroic. They equate physical perfection with moral worth, strength with value.

But the most interesting characters aren't perfect. They're human. They struggle, adapt, and find creative solutions to challenges—including the challenge of navigating the world with a disability.

When we write disabled characters as complete people rather than plot devices or inspiration, we don't just create better representation. We create better stories. Characters who succeed despite—or because of—their limitations are inherently more interesting than those who never face real obstacles.

Beyond the Perfect Hero

The future of SFF belongs to stories that reflect the full spectrum of human experience. That includes characters who take daily medications, use mobility aids, live with chronic pain, or navigate the world differently than the able-bodied heroes we've grown accustomed to.

These aren't "lesser" heroes. They're real heroes as flawed, and complex as any of us, and ultimately more relatable than any perfect Space Marine could ever be.

Cullen Baisley commands a starship not despite his disability, but as a complete person who happens to have one. And in a genre that prides itself on imagining new possibilities, that might be the most revolutionary concept of all.

Because the galaxy needs all kinds of heroes—including the ones who sometimes need to sit down.

Nephilim (working title)

Michael—the son of an archangel—froze time during a bank heist, nabbing $6.5 million, and all it cost him was another piece of his dwindling soul. As he flees Manhattan, Michael receives an ominous warning. The Order, an offshoot of the Vatican which controls the world through political deception and magickal coercion, unearthed the Deepening Well, the lost forge of souls. With this limitless power, The Order will remake the world to a fascist utopia.

Michael’s deadliest foe, Iriska—the daughter of an archdemon—aligns with the Order merging savage demon magicks and lethal technology to drench the Earth in blood and unlock the Deepening Well.

With enemies from his past and present aligning, Michael finds an unexpected ally in Emily Chase, a wheelchair bound witch descended from an ancient bloodline. Drawn together by a shared magickal bond and potent chemistry, Emily kindles a new flame in Michael’s heart.

To stop Iriska and The Order, Michael must embrace his powers--his Light, even if it costs him his soul--and Emily.