Love Beyond the Grave in Bloodfire Legacy

At the heart of Bloodfire Legacy is a haunting question: can love still protect us after death has already taken everything else? This epic fantasy novel begins with murder, grief, and the lure of vengeance, but underneath all of that runs a deeper current—the enduring love of a father who refuses to abandon his daughter, even from beyond the veil. Lord Arion’s death is not the end of his care for Lyra. In many ways, it is the beginning of the book’s deepest emotional conflict.

Where the Idea Came From

Part of the spark for Bloodfire Legacy came from wanting to write the kind of fantasy story my wife especially loves, including some sea-story elements that naturally found their way into the book. But this novel also came from persistence. I actually wrote an earlier version of this story years ago, set it aside, and eventually came back to it because I still felt there was something powerful and worth saving at its core. In a strange way, that fits this theme: some things are too deep to simply let go of.

How Love Beyond the Grave Shapes the Story

Lord Arion’s love for Lyra is not just an emotional detail in the background. It is one of the forces that drives the whole story. The moment he dies, his first thought is not for himself, but for his daughter. He realizes that she will wake up fatherless, alone in a court full of danger, and he cannot bear to leave her. Even when he is called toward the peace of the Immortal Realm and reunion with his wife, he chooses to remain behind and watch over Lyra instead. That choice tells you something essential about the book: in this story, death is real, grief is real, loss is real—but love is real too, and it does not simply vanish when life ends.

That love keeps shaping the novel long after Arion’s death. He watches Lyra grieve him. He watches her longing for justice begin to harden into a thirst for vengeance. He sees the Dark Brotherhood exploit her pain and try to pull her into darkness. Because he cannot touch the physical world directly, he searches for another way to reach her, and that is what leads him to Corin. In other words, one of the book’s most important relationships only exists because a dead father still loves his daughter enough to fight for her. Arion’s love becomes an unseen force in the story—guiding, warning, grieving, and resisting the darkness that wants to consume Lyra.

What Love Beyond the Grave Says About Us

I think this theme speaks to one of the deepest human hopes we have: that death does not truly destroy the bonds that matter most. We know loss is real. We know death takes people from us. But we still hunger to believe that love means something more than temporary closeness. In Bloodfire Legacy, love beyond the grave is not just about memory or sentiment. It becomes sacrifice, protection, warning, and moral responsibility. Arion does not remain because he cannot let go in a selfish sense. He remains because he still wants what is good for his daughter, even when he can no longer control her choices. That kind of love is powerful precisely because it is enduring without becoming possessive.

Why This Theme Matters to Me

This theme matters to me because I do not think the strongest love is fragile. I think real love endures. Lord Arion’s love for Lyra is moving to me because it costs him something. He gives up rest, peace, and reunion because he cannot bear to leave his daughter alone in her hour of danger. That kind of love feels both emotionally true and spiritually meaningful to me. And maybe that is one reason I kept coming back to this story myself. Even after earlier attempts failed, I knew there was something alive at its center that was worth returning to and worth finishing.

Where to Get the Book

Related Posts and Pages

Explore the series index for The Sea Mage Cycle.

Return to the book page for Bloodfire Legacy.

Is The Widow’s Child for You?

The Widow’s Child is a character-driven epic fantasy about a mother trying to protect her daughter in a broken world where prophecy, sorcery, and ruthless power struggles shape the fate of nations. As dangerous forces close in, a small family must flee their mountain home and journey through a land ruled by warlords and dark magic.

If you enjoy fantasy stories where personal loyalty and family bonds matter just as much as swords and spells, this is a story about courage, sacrifice, and the fight to protect hope in a world that has almost forgotten it.

What Kind of Reader Will Love This Book?

If you love…

  • epic fantasy about prophecy, destiny, and powerful magic
  • protective parent stories where family is the heart of the adventure
  • refugee journeys and dangerous quests across a war-torn world
  • character-driven fantasy about loyalty, redemption, and unlikely found families
  • classic fantasy conflicts between dark sorcerers and ordinary people who refuse to surrender

…then The Widow’s Child is probably your kind of story.

What You’ll Find Inside

The Widow’s Child follows Elara, a widowed homesteader whose young daughter Seraph is marked by a mysterious prophecy. When a powerful warlord learns of the child’s potential and seeks to claim her power, Elara is forced to abandon her home and flee across a dangerous land. Alongside them travels Aric, a wandering sellsword with a troubled past who becomes their protector.

As they journey through refugee camps, hostile territories, and lands ruled by dark sorcery, the story explores themes of motherhood, destiny, sacrifice, and the struggle between hope and tyranny. The tone blends intimate emotional stakes with sweeping fantasy adventure, creating a story that feels both personal and epic.

What Makes The Widow’s Child Different

Fans of classic epic fantasy will recognize familiar elements like prophecy, dark sorcerers, and a world scarred by past cataclysms. But The Widow’s Child places the emotional core of the story not in kings or armies, but in a mother fighting to protect her child from a destiny others want to control.

Where many fantasy stories focus on chosen heroes rising to power, this one focuses on ordinary people forced into extraordinary choices. The result is a story where the fate of the world begins with the smallest and most human motivation: protecting family.

What You Won’t Find

This isn’t a grimdark fantasy full of cynical antiheroes and relentless despair. While the world is dangerous and often cruel, the story ultimately centers on love, loyalty, and the belief that good people can still make a difference.

If you’re looking for heavy political intrigue or morally nihilistic fantasy, this may not be your style.

Why I Think You Might Love It

I wrote The Widow’s Child because I was fascinated by the idea of a hardened wanderer and a widowed frontier mother building something fragile and hopeful together in a dangerous world. The relationship between Aric and Elara was the spark that first made me excited to tell this story, and once I began writing it, the rest of the adventure grew naturally from that core idea.

At heart, this book is about protecting the people you love when the world seems determined to tear them away from you. If you enjoy fantasy that mixes danger, destiny, and deeply human relationships, I hope this story gives you the same sense of adventure and hope that inspired me to write it.

Where to Get the Book

Related Posts and Pages

Explore the series index for The Sea Mage Cycle.

Return to the book page for The Widow’s Child.

update post

This is my current writing setup. The top of the filing cabinet already needs to be decluttered, but the rest is actually working out pretty well. The nice thing is that the computer can be raised into a standing desk, which works out really great for writing, since I tend to write better when I’m standing or pacing.

I am almost finished with the AI draft of The Soulbond and the Sling. It looks like it’s going to be about 140k words total, which is on the short end for an epic fantasy novel, but longer than anything else I’ve written (except for the first novel I ever finished, which shall never see the light of day).

The human draft will likely be longer than that, though. I’m going to add more details as I humanize it, which is easier to do just by writing it yourself than it is to get an AI to write it. Though parts of it will likely be shorter, since I’m sure there are places where I let the AI overwrite. Most of the skill in AI-assisted writing consists of knowing what to cut out, since generating words is the easy part.

I have also finished the outline for The Soulbond and the Lady, the second book in the Soulbound King series. It should clock in at about 20 chapters, 100 scenes, and 165k words. The next step is to fill out all the prompts and generate a rough AI draft, but because of how Sudowrite works, I don’t want to do that until the AI draft of The Soulbond and the Sling is complete (since it would require tweaking a bunch of the worldbuilding and character prompts). So that will probably wait until the end of the month.

In general, I have found that I tend to work best when I have two current WIPs: one human and one AI. This is because the two different kinds of writing exercise different parts of my brain, and I can rest the one part while I’m using the other. However, it only really works if both WIPs are in the same series. If I have to mentally switch from one universe to another, that adds friction that makes things difficult.

So the key is to pair up different WIPs together, such that I’ve always got both a human WIP and an AI WIP in the same series. With The Soulbound King, that’s not so difficult, because the AI draft of The Soulbond and the Sling is complete enough for me to start the human draft. And once the AI draft is complete, I can move on to the AI draft of book 2 while I finish up the human draft of book 1. It might become a problem if I finish one of the drafts well before the other, but that won’t be a problem for a while.

With the Falconstar Trilogy, that’s also not a huge problem. I will probably human-write a reader magnet while I work on the AI draft of Captive of the Falconstar, then humanize Captive while I work on the AI draft of Lord of the Falconstar.

With Return of the Starborn Son, the last science fiction novel I plan to write for a while, it’s going to be more tricky because that is the last book in the trilogy, and I still haven’t generated the AI draft. What I’ll probably do is start work on the human draft after I’m about 15% done with the AI draft, and see if I can’t work on both simultaneously. That hasn’t worked as well for me in the past, since I actually prefer to write the human draft out of order, but if it starts to break down I’ll just hold off on the human draft until the AI draft is more complete.

With the Sea Mage Cycle, I’ve currently just got one WIP in that series (The Unknown Sea), and it’s in the AI drafting stage. But it’s short enough that I can probably finish it in just a couple of weeks. At that point, I’ll take my wife out to dinner and have her pick out the next one I’ll write, then work on the AI draft for that one while I’m humanizing The Unknown Sea.

Which brings me to my J.M. Wight pen name. After a lot of thought and some careful deliberation, I’ve decided to put The Road to New Jerusalem on the back burner for now. I was going to try to finish that one in time for the Ark Press contest in October, but I don’t think this is the right time to work on that particular WIP. In the first place, it probably won’t win, and even if it did, that might actually be more of a liability, since it’s a near-future post-apocalyptice novel, and I’m currently trying to establish myself as a writer of epic fantasy.

From now until 2030, I plan to write epic fantasy almost exclusively. The only exceptions for that are the two sci-fi series (The Falconstar Trilogy and the Outworld Trilogy) that I haven’t yet finished. Also, I will probably write some zany space adventure-type stuff under my J.M. Wight pen name, more in the vein of my Gunslinger books (which I have republished under J.M. Wight). But aside from that, I plan to focus on writing fantasy—specifically, epic fantasy.

In my blog series Fantasy from A to Z, I wrote about how epic fantasy has fallen into decline in recent years, due to reader fatigue with big name authors like George R.R. Martin and Patrick Rothfuss failing to finish their series, and how this has put newer authors in a conundrum, because epic fantasy novels are way too big to rapid release, but most readers aren’t willing to start a new series until after it’s already been finished. I hope that my new AI-assisted writing method will help me to crack that particular nut, writing and releasing epic fantasy books fast enough to satisfy readers. Because even though there haven’t been a ton of new epic fantasy authors in recent years, I don’t think the reader demand for epic fantasy has gone down at all. There may still be an opportunity there for writers who can deliver.

That’s what I’m hoping, at least. So I’ll keep plugging away at The Soulbound King, and hopefully release the first all three books of the first trilogy around this time next year.

Fantasy from A to Z: Z is for Zeitgeist

What is the future of fantasy literature? Where is the genre headed, based on current cultural trends?

For a long time, epic fantasy was basically Tolkien-light. There were exceptions, of course, but most readers wanted something that felt a lot like Lord of the Rings, and the most successful writers were the ones who gave it to them. There was a little bit of innovation, probably culminating in Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time series, but if you picked up a random epic fantasy off the shelf, you could have a pretty good idea of what you were getting into.

Then, in the 90s and 00s, fantasy started to get dark and gritty, with writers like Joe Abercrombie and George R.R. Martin setting the tone. This new subgenre or flavor of fantasy, called grimdark, really came to dominate during this time, to the point where some were calling Martin an “American Tolkien” (though all that talk more or less died with the terrible finale of the show). Grimdark is still quite dominant, though an increasing number of readers are turning to “cozy” fantasy or slice-of-life in subgenres like litRPG. And of course, romantasy is taking off like crazy, though as we’ve already discussed, most romantasy is basically just porn.

So where are we going from here?

Our culture tends to pass through a cycle of seasonal turnings, where each season is the length of a generation, and the cycle itself is the length of a long human life. Reduced to its simplest form, the cycle follows a pattern like this:

Strong men create good times (first turning).

Good times create weak men (second turning).

Weak men create hard times (third turning).

Hard times create strong men (fourth turning).

We are currently living in a fourth turning, which is the period when all of the major wars and catastrophes tend to happen. In other words, the fourth turning is basically a grimdark world—or rather, when the full consequences of a grimdark world become manifest. But the grimdark subgenre really took off in the third turning, when dark and grim fantasy worlds resonated with the “hard times” that we all were starting to live through. This is also why dystopian YA became so popular in the 90s and 00s.

(As a side note, I have to say that I find it both perplexing and hilarious how so many zoomers think of the 90s as a simple and wholesome time, to the point where they think they experience nostalgia for it. Those of us who lived through the 90s remember it very differently, as an era of school shootings, political scandals, collapsing churches, teenage pregnancies, and ever-escalating culture wars. There’s a reason why Smells Like Teen Spirit was the decade’s anthem. Though in all fairness, I suppose that if someone from the middle ages were to visit our own time, they would find the nostalgic yearning on which the whole fantasy genre is based to be just as perplexing and hilarious.)

I believe we are on the cusp of a major cultural wave that is going to change everything, to the point of making our world almost unrecognizable to those who lived through the 90s and 00s. And just as the grimdark authors like Martin and Abercrombie rose to prominence by riding the wave in their part of the generational cycle, there are a lot of noblebright authors who stand to benefit from riding this next wave, which is only now beginning to break.

After all, there is another way to formulate the generational cycles. It looks something like this:

Complacent men create a spiritually dead culture (first turning).

A spiritually dead culture creates awakened men (second turning).

Awakened men create a spiritually vibrant culture (third turning).

A spiritually vibrant culture creates complacent men (fourth turning).

In the summer of 2024, I think we passed through a critical fork in the current timeline. If the generational cycle had followed its usual course, then our current crisis period would have ended with a period of unification under a new order, based upon the spiritual foundations that were laid during the 60s and 70s. In other words, the woke left would have won, and we’d be living under the sort of regime that would enforce woke values. Dissent would not be tolerated, because dissent is never tolerated in a first-turning world.

The second most likely outcome would have been a complete shattering of the generational cycles. In other words, we would have fallen into some sort of national divorce or hot civil war, with the United States splitting apart and the Western world completing its cultural suicide, which has been ongoing for several decades now. There has never been a time when such a major cultural rift has been accomplished by peaceful means. It is always accompanied by a terrible, bloody war.

But when President Trump survived the assassin’s bullet at the rally in Butler, Pennsylvania, that’s the point where I think our timeline diverged—and it followed the least likely path, which has only ever happened once in the history of modern generational cycles. We skipped from a fourth-turning straight into a second-turning, skipping straight from crisis to revival.

The last time this happened was with the US civil war. Usually, after a culture survives an existential crisis, you get a period of national unity, which often results in a brief golden age (or at least, an age that is remembered as such, often by those who did not live through it). But after the civil war, there was no national unity. Instead, we skipped right to the second turning, which is typically characterized by a major spiritual awakening.

Whatever your opinions of President Trump, the fact that he survived the assassination attempt in Pennsylvania and went on to win the 2024 election in a landslide means that we have (for the moment) avoided the first two scenarios. At this point, it’s difficult to imagine the woke left taking back the culture and leading us into a first-turning world in their own image. And though the US may yet fall into a hot civil war, from where I’m standing in flyover country that no longer seems quite so imminent.

Don’t get me wrong, though. We are not about to enter a period of national unity anytime soon. Certainly not a period of national unity whose foundations were laid by the previous spiritual awakening, which is what the generational cycle requires. At the same time, because President Trump survived the Butler assassination attempt (thank God), I think we avoided a hot civil war.

Because of all this, I think that we are about to experience a major cultural upheaval, the likes of which have never been seen in living memory. We will not get a period of unification. We will not experience a golden age period of material prosperity (though there may be a few years of plenty before the years of famine begin in earnest). But we will experience a cultural and spiritual revival that will burn through our culture until it has utterly demolished the woke worldview and values laid down during the 60s and 70s, and built something entirely new in its place.

What will that look like? And how will it affect the trajectory of fantasy literature?

Culturally, it will be a period of incredible dynamism. We will see an explosion of creative expression in every field, including in literature. Books and movies and games that are cultural mainstays now will be totally forgotten within a couple of decades, and everything that is popular now will feel dated and out of touch in the space of just a few years.

The authors and artists who will do the most to shape this new culture are today almost completely unknown, but they will become household names in surprisingly short order. Others will take decades to become known, but they will write their most important works in just the next few years.

The country will hold together. There will be no civil war, though there may be a global one. And there will almost certainly be an economic collapse, like the Great Depression, except much deeper and much longer. But all of this will only serve to fuel the spiritual revival, and the revival in turn will fuel the cultural dynamism, until the country and ultimately the world have been entirely transformed.

In more practical terms, I think we are going to see a lot of publishing houses fold, and a lot of popular authors fall out of favor. Many of them will keep their core group of fans, but they won’t be nearly as culturally relevant moving forward. New authors will rise from unexpected places to replace them, especially as the old institutions (publishers, conventions, magazines, review sites) collapse.

Romantasy will ultimately be recognized as the pornography that it is, though not until after it’s done great damage to the fantasy genre as a whole. The damage will be healed by a return to the genre’s spiritual roots. Grimdark will fade, and noblebright will rise, though it will ultimately take a different name and be recognized for other characteristics. It all depends on which of the thousand blooming flowers get picked.

LitRPG will mature into a long-term stable subgenre, and capture most of the innovation in the field. It may spin off into multiple long-term stable subgenres. Meanwhile, epic fantasy will return to its roots and grow as the spiritual revival takes hold. But instead of getting Tolkien clones, we’re going to see a lot of original and innovative work.

That’s the zeitgeist as I see it. The next few years are going to be a wild ride. Are you up for it? I hope that I am.

Fantasy from A to Z: Y is for Yearning

What kind of fantasy books do you hope to see more of in the next few years? What direction do you hope the genre goes next?

Personally, I would like to see the genre return to its roots. But that probably isn’t a surprise, if you’ve read the other blog posts in this series. I’ve invoked Robert E. Howard and J.R.R. Tolkien in almost all of them. Those two men are the grandfathers of modern fantasy: Howard from the sword & sorcery side, and Tolkien from the epic fantasy side. Until just the last few years, most fantasy authors stood on the shoulders of those great authors.

I’m not opposed to rules-based magic on principle. I do think that it can be done quite well, such as with Brandon Sanderson’s earlier work. But I would like to see a revival of more traditional fantasy magic systems, which aren’t really “systems” at all, but mysterious forces of nature rooted in folklore and mythology. With its overemphasis on game-like dynamics and quirky rules-based magic systems, much of modern fantasy seems to have lost sight of the ancient archetypes that gave the works of Tolkien and Howard their staying power.

As the modern world drifts further from its roots, forgetting all the stories that were handed down to us from countless generations past, so too has our fantasy lost sight of its roots, thinning out to the point where it’s little more than an aesthetic—a bundle of tropes and caricatures that evoke a nostalgia not of our pre-modern past, but of other popular fantasy stories. Thus, with each new work in this vein, the genre is diluted just a little bit more, becoming a pale shadow of what it once was.

That is why I would like to see fantasy return to its roots. I would like to see more fantasy that draws deeply from the well of history and mythology, not just to create an aesthetic, but to embed those themes and archetypes deeply into the story itself. I don’t care whether that mythology is European or not (though as a pan-European mutt, that is the culture that resonates most with me), but I do want to read books that do more than file the serial numbers off of another culture and wear it like a skin suit. 

It’s not so much that I’m worried about “cultural appropriation”—hell, as the son of medieval vikings, cultural appropriation is my culture—but if that’s what you’re going to do, you should damn right do it well. There’s a reason why we all got sick and tired of all the Tolkien clones. If we’re going to take fantasy back to its roots, we’ve got to do more than copy all the greats who came before us. We’ve got to understand, in a deep and visceral way, just what exactly they were trying to build, and then build upon it with something new.

Fantasy and science fiction are all about evoking that sense of wonder. Science fiction evokes that wonder by looking to the future; fantasy evokes that wonder by looking to the past. Our modern world has forgotten far too much of its cultural heritage. I want to see more fantasy that brings it back.

Going full-tilt on The Soulbound King

I’ve decided to put The Road to New Jerusalem on the back burner and focus instead on my epic fantasy series, The Rise of the Soulbound King Trilogy. If I push, I think I can finish the AI draft of book 1 in the next two weeks. I’ve also nearly finished the outline for book 2, and will probably have a rough AI draft for that one by the end of September.

I would really like to publish this series in 2026, but I don’t want to launch it until I’m ready to rapid release the first three books. And since these books are all epic fantasy, it’s going to take a lot of time and effort to write them. Without AI, it would probably take me something like two or three years for each book. I’m not a very fast writer, and I tend to get stuck in the middle, even when I have a solid outline. With AI, I think I can shorten that to 6-8 months.

These books are probably going to range between 150k and 200k words, so not super long for epic fantasy (for comparison, Mistborn: The Final Empire is about 214k words, and The Way of Kings is about 384k words). That’s much longer than most genre books, though, including most of the books I’ve written until now. And writing difficulty doesn’t scale linearly with book length; it scales logarithmically. So while it may take only 1-2 months to write a Sea Mage Cycle book, those are only about 1/3rd the length of a Soulbound King book.

My long-term goal, though, is to pivot to epic fantasy, to the point where that’s mostly what I write. And if you read my science fiction novels, you’ll find that they’re much more like epic fantasy, with multiple viewpoints, grand galactic empires, wars and political machinations, and a universe that has its own character arc. So while this may superficially seem like a huge pivot, it’s actually not.

There are three science fiction books that I need to write before I can pivot entirely to writing fantasy: Captive of the Falconstar, Lord of the Falconstar, and The Return of the Starborn Son. Those are the only outstanding science fiction series that need finishing (and I will finish them, I promise—I’m not going to pull a GRRM). I also need to finish the Twelfth Sword Trilogy, the epic fantasy series I started in the 2010s while I was still mostly writing science fiction.

Realistically, the only ones of those books that are going to be finished between now and the end of next year are the Falconstar books, since I need to juggle all of these with the Soulbound King epic fantasy books that I’m also writing. But I think I can finish the Falconstar books, and also write and publish a Sea Mage Cycle book or two within the next year. I’ve found that it often helps to take week-long breaks to work on other projects, which allows me to approach a larger and more challenging WIP like The Soulbond and the Sling with new eyes. So I will probably alternate between working on the Soulbound King books and working on Falconstar and Sea Mage Cycle for the forseeable future.

But my goal for the next two weeks is to go full steam ahead on The Soulbond and the Sling, until it is finished. And with luck, I will also have a few excerpts to share with you soon!

Fantasy from A to Z: X is for eXpectations

What sort of books are fantasy readers looking for today? What are the expectations that readers have for the genre?

Overall, the fantasy genre is growing. Sales are up, both in traditional and indie publishing, and the big names in the field (like Brandon Sanderson) are doing quite well. It’s clear that the fantasy genre as a whole is robust and healthy.

When you break it down by publishers and subgenres, however, things start to look a little different. Romantasy is dominating the traditional publishing world, but most of it is little more than pornography for women, dressed up with fantasy trappings. And because of how traditional publishing now relies on a few big blockbusters to make most of their earnings, romantasy is sucking all of the oxygen out of the room, making it much more difficult for debut and midlist authors in the other fantasy subgenres.

In the world of indie publishing, litRPG has begun to demonstrate some staying power. It was the new hot thing back in the early 2020s, but it’s attracted enough attention and developed enough of a following that it has become a major subgenre that is likely to endure for some time. I could be wrong about that, but from what I see, that’s where most of the innovative authors and whale readers (ie >1 book per week) are focusing their attention these days.

But because of the way that the algorithms tend to govern the indie publishing cycle (and the way that indie publishing has unfortunately turned into a zero-sum, pay-to-play game with online advertising), the rise of litRPG in the indie publishing world may very well be sucking all of the oxygen out of the room in the same way that romantasy is sucking it out of the traditional publishing world. 

Both subgenres are also very gender-biased, with women gravitating toward romantasy and men gravitating toward litRPG. This reflects the broader social and political trend of men and women going separate ways, across a whole host of different metrics. So as the gender divide continues to widen in society generally, that will probably reinforce the divide between romantasy and litRPG, creating a positive feedback loop (or death spiral, depending on how you look at it).

Sword and sorcery continues to do okay, and has probably been given a boost by the recent release of Conan the Barbarian into the public domain. But most of sword and sorcery got siphoned off into grimdark back in the 00s—in fact, you could say that sword and sorcery reinvented itself as grimdark. And while grimdark has resisted the feminization of literature, standing as one of the few remaining bastions where male readers continue to feel at home, I think grimdark has already passed its peak. In a post-pandemic, post-Trump world, I think most readers are hungry for books that are less nihilistic and more uplifting.

Which brings us to epic fantasy. While Brandon Sanderson continues to dominate this subgenre, with his massive kickstarters and huge book releases, it’s debatable whether his readers are hungry for more epic fantasy, or just for more Brandon Sanderson. He’s kind of a subgenre all to himself. Recent streaming adaptations like Wheel of Time and Rings of Power have failed miserably, and Game of Thrones has fallen almost totally out of cultural significance, with George R.R. Martin’s failure to finish the last book (and Patrick Rothfuss’s failure to finish his own series) becoming something of a meme.

In fact, the failure of these two big-name authors to finish writing their books may have struck epic fantasy a mortal wound. Because of how they have been burned, a large number of epic fantasy readers are now unwilling to commit to a series until after it is complete. But very few authors can afford to write a truly epic series and release the whole thing at once. It takes several years to write a series like that—and what are authors supposed to do if the first one flops? 

In other words, debut epic fantasy authors are damned if they do, and damned if they don’t. If they release the first book by itself, it will probably sink into obscurity before they can write and release the next book. And if by some measure of hard work and tenacity they manage to write a whole series and hold back from publishing until they’re ready to release it all at once, if the first book still fails to sell, they’re SOL and all that hard work was for nothing. 

This is also why traditional publishers are so unwilling to publish a new epic fantasy series from a debut or a midlist author. A bestseller like Larry Correia might be able to dip his feet in that pond (and do quite well—I highly recommend his Sons of the Black Sword series), they won’t do that for anyone else. Which is fine, except that indie publishing epic fantasy is just as hard—arguably more so.

For these reasons, I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that Patrick Rothfuss and George R.R. Martin have done more to kill epic fantasy than they have to grow it.

But this may actually have created an opportunity for those authors who are willing to drive into the smoke. After all, there’s much less competition if you can manage to break in and build a decent following. But how much hunger is there for epic fantasy, compared to other fantasy subgenres? And how can a newer/midlist author reach them, without a big push from a publisher or the algorithms?

Epic Fantasy vs. LitRPG: 20 more principles that set them apart from other genres

So building on yesterday’s blog post, after asking ChatGPT to contrast litRPG against epic fantasy, I asked the AI to come up with twenty more principles that show how litRPG and epic fantasy are more similar to each other, by contrasting them against other genres. In other words, I asked for another twenty principles that either 1) hold true for both litRPG and epic fantasy, but not other genres, or 2) do not hold true for litRPG or epic fantasy, but do hold true for other genres. This was what the AI came up with.

What do you think? Do you agree with the list, or do you think the AI doesn’t know what it’s talking about? I mean, of course the AI doesn’t know what it’s talking about—it’s a pattern-matching stochastic parrot incapable of actual thought—but does the list itself hold true, or not? I’m interested to hear what you think!


✅ Ten Principles That Work in Both Epic Fantasy and LitRPG (but not as well elsewhere)

1. The Long Form Is an Asset

  • Epic Fantasy: Readers expect doorstoppers; sprawling stories add gravitas.
  • LitRPG: Readers binge long series to follow progression.
  • Other genres: Overly long novels (romance, thrillers) often feel padded or indulgent.

2. Worldbuilding as a Core Pleasure

  • Epic Fantasy: Intricate maps, languages, and histories enrich immersion.
  • LitRPG: Detailed mechanics, systems, and economies are part of the appeal.
  • Other genres: Too much worldbuilding bogs down the story (e.g., in mystery or romance).

3. Reader Dedication Is Assumed

  • Epic Fantasy: Readers accept investment to reap the mythic payoff.
  • LitRPG: Readers accept grindy arcs to enjoy progression.
  • Other genres: Casual readers often want quick satisfaction.

4. Hero’s Journey as Central Skeleton

  • Epic Fantasy: Growth from obscurity to legend is the core arc.
  • LitRPG: Growth from level 1 to overpowered is the core arc.
  • Other genres: Often resist the monomyth (slice-of-life, literary realism, etc.).

5. Community/Ensemble Casts

  • Epic Fantasy: Multiple POVs enrich the tapestry.
  • LitRPG: Party dynamics (tank, healer, mage) reflect RPG roots.
  • Other genres: Large casts risk confusing readers who want intimacy.

6. Spectacle as Payoff

  • Epic Fantasy: Climactic battles or magical revelations awe readers.
  • LitRPG: Dungeon raids and boss fights provide thrill.
  • Other genres: Spectacle without intimacy or brevity (like in romance) falls flat.

7. Maps and Charts Enhance the Experience

  • Epic Fantasy: Maps show kingdoms, trade routes, and lost ruins.
  • LitRPG: Stat sheets, skill trees, and quest logs scratch the gamer itch.
  • Other genres: Appendices and diagrams often feel extraneous.

8. Bingeability

  • Epic Fantasy: Readers want to sink in for weeks.
  • LitRPG: Readers tear through serialized arcs like binge-gaming sessions.
  • Other genres: Shorter, self-contained experiences dominate (rom-coms, thrillers).

9. Immersion Requires Internal Consistency

  • Epic Fantasy: Magic systems, politics, and cultures must feel internally real.
  • LitRPG: Mechanics and progression must follow consistent rules.
  • Other genres: Small cheats or contrivances are forgiven more easily.

10. The Fantasy of Escape Into Another Life

  • Epic Fantasy: Readers escape into a mythic, larger-than-life destiny.
  • LitRPG: Readers escape into a game avatar, empowered and free.
  • Other genres: Escapism is more muted—characters often mirror real-world constraints.

❌ Ten Principles That Work in Other Genres But Not in Epic Fantasy or LitRPG

11. Economy of Length

  • Epic Fantasy: Truncated stories feel shallow.
  • LitRPG: Short books cut off progression.
  • Other genres: Brevity (novellas, short novels) often thrives in romance, literary fiction, thrillers.

12. Standalone Closure

  • Epic Fantasy: Readers expect series and arcs across volumes.
  • LitRPG: Readers expect sequels and continuous leveling.
  • Other genres: Standalone novels dominate many markets (romance, crime).

13. Minimal World Detail

  • Epic Fantasy: Sparse settings break immersion.
  • LitRPG: Thin systems or game mechanics disappoint.
  • Other genres: Often better to focus tightly on character or conflict.

14. Immediate, High-Speed Pacing

  • Epic Fantasy: Readers accept gradual build-up.
  • LitRPG: Readers accept grind loops before climax.
  • Other genres: Quick, relentless pacing (thrillers) is a selling point.

15. Subtlety Over Spectacle

  • Epic Fantasy: Readers want grandeur, not quiet minimalism.
  • LitRPG: Readers want flashy abilities, loot drops, boss fights.
  • Other genres: Subtle slice-of-life or understated literary fiction works well.

16. Ambiguous Endings

  • Epic Fantasy: Readers want resolution—wars won, empires reshaped.
  • LitRPG: Readers want progression arcs to complete.
  • Other genres: Literary realism thrives on ambiguity.

17. Everyday Banality

  • Epic Fantasy: Mundane routine (work, school, dishes) feels like filler.
  • LitRPG: Grinding without purpose or progress feels like padding.
  • Other genres: Slice-of-life, contemporary drama thrive on the ordinary.

18. Romance as the Core Engine

  • Epic Fantasy: Love enriches but rarely drives the whole tapestry.
  • LitRPG: Love plots are secondary to leveling and quests.
  • Other genres: Romance is often the primary driver.

19. Prose Minimalism

  • Epic Fantasy: Readers want at least some richness, tone, and weight.
  • LitRPG: Readers want clarity and detail in mechanics, not Hemingway sparsity.
  • Other genres: Minimalist prose shines in lit fic or thrillers.

20. Compressed Timelines

  • Epic Fantasy: Readers want generations, years, or at least a long journey.
  • LitRPG: Readers want long campaigns and layered arcs.
  • Other genres: Stories that span a weekend or a single evening work beautifully in mystery, romance, lit fic.

⚖️ Big Takeaway

  • Shared Strengths (1–10): Both genres embrace immersion, scope, detail, and reader investment. They reward readers who want to live in another world for a long time.
  • Shared Weaknesses (11–20): Neither does well with brevity, minimalism, ambiguity, or everyday mundanity. Those principles thrive in other fiction but undermine the immersive, long-game experience of epic fantasy and LitRPG.

Epic Fantasy vs. LitRPG: 20 principles that work in one but not the other

So I was doing some genre research using ChatGPT, comparing epic fantasy (which I write) to litRPG (which I do not write—at least, not yet). After going back and forth for a while, I had ChatGPT list a bunch of principles that set each subgenre apart from each other. In other words, each of these principles holds true only for the one subgenre and not for the other.

It’s an interesting list. But being AI-generated, I’m not sure how much I can trust it, so I’d be interested to get your feedback. How true do you think these principles holds? Is it a pretty solid list, or are any areas where the AI got it wrong?


✅ Works in Epic Fantasy but Not LitRPG

1. Slow, Majestic Pacing

  • Epic Fantasy: Readers savor patience, waiting hundreds of pages for payoffs.
  • LitRPG: Readers expect regular “level-ups” or stat reveals—slow burns feel like stalling.

2. World as a Living, Breathing Character

  • Epic Fantasy: Setting is alive, with cultures, histories, and myth shaping events.
  • LitRPG: Worlds are often coded, constructed systems; too much “world-agency” risks breaking the conceit of “game mechanics.”

3. Archetypal Myth and Destiny

  • Epic Fantasy: Readers love prophecy, ancient bloodlines, and cosmic fate.
  • LitRPG: Players expect agency and control; prophecy undercuts the appeal of player choice.

4. Elevated, Poetic Language

  • Epic Fantasy: Slightly archaic or grand prose enhances the mythic atmosphere.
  • LitRPG: Readers expect clear, modern, accessible prose—too much ornament feels like “lag.”

5. Moral and Philosophical Depth

  • Epic Fantasy: Readers enjoy wrestling with justice, faith, and power.
  • LitRPG: Too much moral philosophizing slows down what should feel like gameplay and strategy.

6. Earned Heroism Through Suffering

  • Epic Fantasy: Heroes rise through sacrifice, scars, and loss.
  • LitRPG: Heroes rise by optimizing builds and winning battles. Too much suffering without progression feels like poor game balance.

7. History as Weight

  • Epic Fantasy: Ancient wars, dynasties, ruins, and forgotten myths enrich immersion.
  • LitRPG: History matters less than mechanics; world “backstory” is often secondary to the system’s function.

8. Layered Political Intrigue

  • Epic Fantasy: Kingdoms, councils, conspiracies—slow, strategic plotting excites readers.
  • LitRPG: Readers may skip political detail to get back to quests, loot, or progression.

9. Villains as Ideologies

  • Epic Fantasy: Antagonists often embody philosophies or cosmic balances.
  • LitRPG: Readers want enemies to be challenges, bosses, or rival players—not treatises on ideology.

10. The Reader Must Feel Small

  • Epic Fantasy: The awe of mountains, empires, or gods dwarfs the individual.
  • LitRPG: Readers want to feel powerful, not humbled—progression fantasy is about growth and mastery.

✅ Works in LitRPG but Not Epic Fantasy

11. Constant Tangible Progress

  • LitRPG: Frequent “dings,” new skills, and stat boosts scratch the gamer itch.
  • Epic Fantasy: Constant visible gains feel artificial—growth should be slow, hard-won, and often invisible.

12. Game-Like Structure

  • LitRPG: Clear quests, dungeons, XP, and loot tables create satisfying loops.
  • Epic Fantasy: Too much structure breaks the illusion of a living world—life doesn’t hand out quests so neatly.

13. Crunchy Mechanics

  • LitRPG: Readers relish stat blocks, skill trees, and optimization discussions.
  • Epic Fantasy: Overly mechanical explanations kill immersion—magic should feel mysterious, not like a spreadsheet.

14. Frequent Combat Encounters

  • LitRPG: Battles are core gameplay; readers expect frequent fights.
  • Epic Fantasy: Endless combat risks exhausting readers who want battles to feel rare, costly, and decisive.

15. Player Agency Above All

  • LitRPG: The protagonist must feel like a player making choices.
  • Epic Fantasy: Fate, prophecy, or the “burden of destiny” often guide characters beyond their control.

16. Meta Awareness

  • LitRPG: Characters can reference game mechanics, genre tropes, or player logic.
  • Epic Fantasy: Meta jokes break immersion—characters can’t wink at the audience about being in a story.

17. Loot and Rewards as Story Fuel

  • LitRPG: New gear and loot drops are story progression.
  • Epic Fantasy: Magical swords and treasures matter, but they’re rare, symbolic, and usually secondary to inner growth.

18. Episodic, “Grindable” Arcs

  • LitRPG: Dungeon runs, quests, and side missions can be modular and satisfying.
  • Epic Fantasy: Too episodic undermines the long-arc gravitas; the story must feel like a single tapestry.

19. Power Fantasy at the Forefront

  • LitRPG: Readers want to imagine themselves growing invincible.
  • Epic Fantasy: Too much power fantasy feels hollow—readers want awe and cost, not invincibility.

20. Immersion Through Familiar Systems

  • LitRPG: RPG tropes are comforting—readers enjoy seeing familiar mechanics at play.
  • Epic Fantasy: Familiar mechanics feel derivative—immersion comes from originality, history, and myth.

⚖️ The Big Picture

  • Epic Fantasy: Offers immersion in a mythic, awe-inspiring legend, with patience, gravitas, and weight. It humbles and uplifts.
  • LitRPG: Offers immersion in a game you can read, with momentum, mechanics, and constant progression. It empowers and energizes.

They share world immersion as a value—but diverge in what kind of immersion the audience craves: awe vs. agency, myth vs. mechanics, destiny vs. progress.

Fantasy from A to Z: S is for Sanderson

Brandon Sanderson is, without a doubt, the most popular fantasy writer currently living and writing today. He is also one of the classiest and most gracious authors you will ever meet, in any genre. I’ve also got a personal connection to him, from taking his writing class at BYU.

Brandon decided to become a writer when he was very young. The way he explains it, the bug really bit him when he read Dragonsbane by Barbara Hambly. Depression runs in his family, and growing up, he always felt emotionally monotone and distant—until he read that book. From then on, he became obsessed with fantasy, both with reading and with writing it.

The way I heard Brandon explain it, that emotional monotone has been both a personal struggle and a great asset. It’s part of the reason he’s able to write so much, since where other writers tend to have huge emotional swings that affect their ability to write, Brandon is able to just sit down and do the work, day after day after day. It’s also part of what gives him an even keel that makes him such a gracious and generous person. Where other writers tend to get worked up on social media or join outrage mobs, Brandon avoids all of that. I don’t think I’ve ever seen or heard of him becoming outraged about anything.

Brandon was one of the last major authors to break into book publishing before the indie revolution began turning everything upside down. He broke in by researching agents and editors, attending all the important conferences, and networking with everyone who’s anyone in the genre. He also wrote a lot of really good books—as well as a lot of crappy ones. I believe that Elantris, his debut novel, was actually the sixth novel he wrote, and Mistborn: The Final Empire was something like the 13th. He landed his agent, Joshua Bilmes, from attending World Fantasy, and his agent eventually got him his publisher, Moshe, at Tor.

Elantris and Mistborn were good, but not immediate bestsellers. In fact, Brandon was on track to be an average mid-list fantasy author with a relatively unremarkable career, until Robert Jordan died, leaving the Wheel of Time unfinished. By that point, a lot of readers felt frustrated with the series and used his death as an opportunity to write scathing screeds about how it had gone off of the rails and grown far too bloated and large. But Brandon was much more classy and gracious than that, and wrote a tribute to the man instead, praising his work and the impact it had had on his life. When Robert Jordan’s widow read Brandon’s post, she decided that he was the one who should finish the Wheel of Time.

Personally, I’m not a huge Wheel of Time fan. I read the first three books and enjoyed them, but I got lost midway through the fourth book. My wife read them all and feels like the series is overrated, and I generally trust her judgment. But I can appreciate how a lot of people really love the series—and really, there is a lot to love. Just because it isn’t to my personal taste doesn’t mean that it isn’t good. 

My friends who are Wheel of Time fans tell me that Brandon not only finished the series—he rescued it. Apparently, the last three books rejuvenated the series, wrapping things up in an incredibly satisfying way. Of course, Brandon would defer and say that it wasn’t his genius that turned the series around, but Robert Jordan’s original vision and the detailed notes and outlines that Brandon followed. But there’s no denying that Brandon really stuck the landing.

It was around this point in the story that I met Brandon. I was a student at BYU at the time, and I had an opportunity to take his writing class. From the time when I was eight, I had wanted to be a writer, but I didn’t think I would ever turn it into a career. Brandon’s writing class changed all that, and helped me to see that I could pursue writing as a career. He also taught me the nuts and bolts of writing fiction, vastly improving my writing skills. I had started several novels in high school, but never finished anything until I took his class. And while my first finished novel was a disaster that I promptly locked in the trunk, my second novel attempt (which I started writing in Brandon’s class) ultimately became my debut, Genesis Earth.

(As a side note, my wife was also in that ‘08 class with Brandon Sanderson, though we didn’t actually meet each other until almost a decade later when we matched on Mutual. She also started a writing group with her college roommate, who won the Writers of the Future and married into Brandon Sanderson’s writing group. Our writing group has also got one of Brandon’s college roommates.)

Brandon’s success with Wheel of Time was what catapulted Brandon from a midlist author to a bestselling phenomenon. But even then, if he wrote at the same slow pace as most other fantasy authors, he would have forever been known as “the guy who finished Wheel of Time.” Instead, he became famous for writing and publishing massive +300k word doorstopper tomes at an unprecedented rate, leading fans to joke about his writing super powers. Then the pandemic happened, and he wrote four “secret” novels with all of the extra time he had from not traveling anywhere. The fans went crazy, and his kickstarter blew everything out of the water.

I haven’t read all of Brandon’s books. I really loved the Mistborn era I books, and the first Stormlight Archive book was good, but my favorite is Emperor’s Soul, because I think that Brandon is at his best when he writes shorter novels rather than the massive +300k word doorstopper tomes. In my experience, Brandon is a 3-star author who writes 5-star endings. His writing tends to meander, especially in the early middle, but around the 3/4ths mark there’s usually a twist that brings things together, and the conflict escalates consistently until it builds into a really satisfying ending.

Brandon is also known for his hard magic systems, which have become a signature trait of his books. Some readers feel that clearly explaining the rules of magic defeats the sense of wonder that a fantasy novel should have, but that’s not been my experience with his books. When I read a Brandon Sanderson novel, I feel almost like I’m reading a video game. Knowing the ins and outs of the magic helps me to see the possibilities for the characters to use it, and Brandon is usually really good at adding an unexpected twist, exploiting the rules of magic in a surprising yet inevitable way. This creates its own sense of wonder that really adds to his books.

Brandon also is known for how all of his books are tied together into the same transdimensional “cosmere” multiverse, though I actually think this is the least remarkable thing that makes his books so distinctive. For one thing, he’s not the first one to do it—David Gemmell also discretely linked all of his books, which blew my mind when I discovered that particular easter egg. For another thing, Brandon has turned his cosmere from a delightfully hidden easter egg and nod to the fans to the grand key that you must possess in order to understand and appreciate his later books. As a result, the cosmere is becoming an obstacle to new readers, even as his most ardent fans all swoon over the cosmere connections.

I think Brandon’s ultimate goal is to turn his books into a massive cinematic universe, kind of like the MCU. From what I understand, he was really close to signing a Hollywood deal, but it fell through at the last minute, leaving him back at square one (I don’t know all the details, though Jon Del Arroz did some interesting reporting on that). This is also probably why his books have become more woke in recent years. 

I’ve already written at length about that subject, so I won’t belabor the point here. But I really do feel that this represents a betrayal of his more conservative fans, many of whom turned to Brandon precisely because his books tend to be free of all of the gratuitous language and sexual content of most modern fantasy. Also, one of Brandon’s really great strengths during the gamergate and puppygate fannish controversies of the 2010s was his strict neutrality. While the culture wars were raging all around them, he continued to be his classy and gracious self, refraining from picking sides or wading into the mudfest. With the LGBTQ romantic subplot in Wind and Truth, that appears to have changed.

I hope he turns away from all of that. What the world really needs right now are books that transcend the whole woke vs. anti-woke divide, bringing us together and healing the artificial (and in many cases subversive) divisions that pit us against each other. Maybe Brandon will surprise me, and accomplish exactly that, just from the left side of the aisle. But as of Wind and Truth, I can’t help but wonder if we’ve reached peak Sanderson. Only time will tell.

Regardless, I will always be grateful to Brandon Sanderson for the things he taught me, and for all of his graciousness and generosity that he showed in his writing class. Without that experience, I probably would have pursued a different career, and not written nearly so many books. I also probably would not have married my wife, since one of the big things that drew her to me was my love and dedication to my writing craft.