Being a Fantasy Writer in a Real-World Crisis

“Fantasy is hardly an escape from reality. It’s a way of understanding it.” — Lloyd Alexander

Let’s be honest: there are days when writing fantasy feels like shouting into the void while the world burns.

I’ve had those moments where I sit down at my laptop to write about magical rebellions and slow-burn enemies-to-lovers romances, only to be interrupted by yet another news headline that makes my stomach drop. War, injustice, environmental disasters, political chaos — sometimes it all feels too heavy to even think about fictional worlds, let alone create them.

So what’s the point? Why write fantasy when the real world is already on fire?

Let me tell you why.

🌍 Fantasy Is Political — Whether You Like It or Not

Here’s the thing: fantasy has never existed in a vacuum. The idea that it’s purely escapist is, frankly, a myth. Every world you build reflects something about your own worldview — your fears, your hopes, your values. The politics of who gets magic, who holds power, and who’s considered worthy are never neutral.

I realised this the hard way when I caught myself writing a scene where my fantasy kingdom had an elite ruling class who hoarded resources, and I was like… huh. That hits a little too close to home.

Even Tolkien, often praised for his sweeping, apolitical world-building, was writing in the shadow of war. Mordor wasn’t born in a vacuum — it was shaped by the trauma and disillusionment of global conflict. C.S. Lewis didn’t hide his beliefs; they infused every inch of Narnia. Ursula K. Le Guin? She built worlds to question capitalism, gender, and power long before it was trendy.

Fantasy gives us the tools to examine injustice with distance — to unpack real problems through metaphors, monsters, and magic. It’s not about ignoring the hard stuff. It’s about repackaging it in a way that lets readers wrestle with the truth without shutting down.

And sometimes, that’s exactly what they (and we) need.

🔥 Writing Through the Fire

There’s no shame in feeling overwhelmed. Some days, writing can feel impossible when you’re grieving, angry, or exhausted. And let’s be real — when the world feels like it’s unraveling, putting words on a page can seem like the least important thing.

But here’s the truth I’ve learned the hard way: writing because of the chaos, not in spite of it, is one of the most powerful things we can do.

There were weeks when I couldn’t write a single scene without spiraling into guilt. How could I focus on fantasy kisses and cursed swords while people were being displaced, silenced, or hurt?

But then I’d remember how much comfort I’ve found in other people’s stories. How a well-timed book gave me an anchor during a dark season. How fiction helped me name the things I didn’t know how to say out loud.

Your words can become a form of resistance. A way to process what’s happening. A way to give yourself and your readers a little hope. Even if you only write a paragraph. Even if the scene feels clumsy or small. It still matters.

✨ Escapism Isn’t the Enemy

I’ve seen the side-eyes and the think pieces. “Is it ethical to write fantasy during a crisis? Shouldn’t we be writing about real issues?”

Here’s my take: fantasy is a real issue. Not in the sense of current events, but in the way it sustains people. Escapism isn’t the enemy — it’s survival.

I can’t tell you how many times a fantasy book has saved me. Given me rest. Let me feel like the world made sense again, even if it was just for a few hours. And I know I’m not alone. Readers carry books with them like talismans. They remember the exact line that got them through heartbreak. They hold on to characters like lifelines.

Creating those worlds for someone else? That’s a gift. It’s not frivolous. It’s sacred.

🖊️ Writing As an Act of Hope

When I write fantasy, I’m not ignoring the real world — I’m trying to imagine a better one.

Sometimes that means writing messy characters who still manage to find love. Sometimes it means building worlds where justice can win, where the villain doesn’t always get the last word. Sometimes it just means giving someone, somewhere, a reason to keep going.

I think about the teenage me, curled up on the floor of my childhood bedroom, devouring every fantasy novel I could get my hands on like they were oxygen. I didn’t know how to process my fear or anger or powerlessness, but those stories made me feel like maybe I could be brave someday.

That’s the energy I bring to the page now. Not perfection, not detachment — but fierce, stubborn hope.

That might sound idealistic. But you know what? I’d rather be an idealist with a pen than a cynic who gave up.

Being a writer — especially a fantasy writer — during turbulent times can feel disorienting. But your stories matter. Your magic matters.

So write the dragons. Write the rebels. Write the quiet love stories and the explosive battles and the characters who choose kindness even when it’s hard.

Write the world you need. Write the world someone else is desperate to see.

You’re not escaping reality. You’re reshaping it, one page at a time.