Fantasy Writing Challenge

Write With Me: From Wild Idea to “The End”

Ever wondered if your fantasy novel idea could survive the gauntlet of outlines, magical mishaps, and rogue characters? Same. That’s why this challenge isn’t a class. It’s a shared quest.

This season, pull up a chair (and maybe extra snacks)—because I’m writing my book and guiding you through every twist and turn of the process, from fuzzy brainstorm to finished draft. Each day, I’ll drop the real stuff I’m using: prompts, outlines, messy flowcharts, and even a few explainer videos so neither of us gets lost in a plot hole.

We’ll shape our worlds, juggle plot obstacles, and write alongside each other in real time. When something works, you’ll see it. When it flops, you’ll see that too. All you need is a bit of imagination and the willingness to join in—no expertise required.

So, ready to finally write that book as part of Team “Let’s Just Go For It”? Come write with me—from idea to draft, guided at every step, side by side

Day 1: Welcome & Story Seeds

November 1, 2025 - National Authors Day

MAIN CONTENT: What Makes Fantasy Compelling?

Because Reality is Overrated: What Actually Makes Fantasy Worth Reading

Look, we could sit here and pretend that fantasy is just "escapism" for people who can't handle the real world. We could. But we'd be lying, and lying is for villains—though admittedly, they do make it look good.

The truth? Fantasy is compelling because it does something most other genres can't pull off: it makes the impossible feel inevitable.

The Real Magic Isn't the Spells

Here's the thing nobody tells you when you crack open your first fantasy novel: the magic system isn't what hooks you. Sure, hard magic with its rules and limitations is intellectually satisfying (looking at you, Brandon Sanderson fans), but what actually keeps you reading at 3am when you have work in the morning?

The people.

Fantasy gives us characters who face impossible choices in impossible situations—and somehow, we relate. Because at its core, fantasy uses the unreal to explore very real human experiences. A protagonist battling a dragon? That's just a really dramatic way of showing someone facing their fears. A quest to destroy an evil artifact? Try "letting go of something that gives you power but destroys you from the inside."

See? Suddenly it's not so fantastical after all.

Hope is a Hell of a Drug

Fantasy offers something the real world stubbornly refuses to guarantee: hope.

Not the toxic positivity kind where everything magically works out (though in fantasy, things do magically work out, which is kind of the point). No, fantasy gives us hope that:

Our choices matter, even when we're just one person against impossible odds
Good people can triumph, even if they're flawed and broken
The world can be changed, remade, or at least survived
Magic exists—maybe not the wand-waving kind, but the kind found in courage, friendship, and really good banter

In a genre where literal Dark Lords threaten entire continents, we somehow find it easier to believe in victory than we do scrolling through our news feeds. Funny how that works.

World-Building: The Acceptable Form of Procrastination

Let's be honest—half the appeal of fantasy is getting lost in worlds that feel more real than reality. Worlds with their own:

History that actually makes sense (unlike, you know, actual history)
Magic systems with clear rules (because at least something should be consistent)
Creatures that follow biological logic (dragons have hollow bones, obviously)
Political intrigue that's entertaining (instead of just depressing)

A well-crafted fantasy world doesn't just provide a backdrop—it becomes a character itself. The setting shapes the story, the magic has consequences, and every tavern has a mysterious hooded figure in the corner. As it should be.

The Hero's Journey Never Gets Old (When Done Right)

Yes, we've all read Joseph Campbell. Yes, we know the monomyth. Yes, we're tired of chosen ones who are special just because the prophecy said so.

But here's why the hero's journey persists in fantasy:

Because watching someone transform from ordinary to extraordinary never stops being satisfying.

Whether it's a hobbit destroying a ring, a farm boy discovering he's actually royalty, or a girl finding out she has magic powers—these stories work because they whisper a dangerous possibility: What if you're more than you think you are?

That's compelling. That's addictive. That's why we keep coming back.

Quests, Prophecies, and Impossible Odds

Fantasy thrives on epic conflicts with deeply personal stakes. The fate of the world hangs in the balance, yes, but what we really care about is:

Will the knight overcome their guilt?
Can the mage learn to trust again?
Will the rogue finally find a place to belong?
Do the star-crossed lovers survive? (The answer is usually "technically, but at great emotional cost")

The grand scope gives weight to intimate character moments. When someone declares their love before a final battle, it matters because we know what's at stake. When a character makes a sacrifice, we feel it because the world they're saving actually feels worth saving.

Good vs. Evil (But Make It Complicated)

Classic fantasy gave us clear battle lines: good guys wear white, bad guys wear black, everyone knows who to root for. Modern fantasy said, "That's cute, but what if everyone wore grey and claimed they were doing the right thing?"

The best fantasy explores moral complexity without losing moral clarity. Yes, the villain has sympathetic motivations. No, that doesn't make genocide okay. Yes, the hero makes questionable choices. No, that doesn't make them irredeemable.

This moral nuance? It's what makes fantasy feel alive. Because real people aren't all good or all evil—we're messy, contradictory, capable of both cruelty and kindness. Fantasy at its best reflects that truth while still maintaining that hope we talked about earlier.

Lore, Mythology, and the Power of Three

Fantasy worlds are built on layers:

Surface level: What's happening now
Middle layer: The history that shaped the present
Deep lore: Ancient magic, forgotten prophecies, gods who are totally not dead just sleeping

This depth makes fantasy worlds feel lived-in. When a character mentions an ancient war or an old prophecy, we sense the weight of history. When magic has rules based on mythology that predates the story, it feels earned.

And yes, things come in threes because our brains are wired that way. Three wishes. Three trials. Three books in a trilogy. (Okay, now it's usually seven books in a series, but the principle stands.)

The Real Reason Fantasy Works

Strip away the dragons, the magic, the quests, and the prophecies. What are you left with?

Stories about human nature.

Power and its corrupting influence
Love that transcends impossible barriers
Friendship forged in adversity
Identity and belonging
Sacrifice and redemption
The eternal question: What makes someone truly good?

Fantasy is compelling because it takes these timeless themes and cranks them up to eleven. It says, "You think trust is hard? Try trusting someone when they could literally read your mind or steal your soul."

It uses the supernatural to make the natural more visible. The fantastic to highlight the painfully familiar.

So, What Makes Fantasy Compelling?

Everything.

The magic and the meaning. The escape and the mirror it holds up to our world. The heroes we wish we could be and the flaws we recognize in ourselves.

Fantasy is compelling because it asks "What if?" and then has the audacity to answer with something better than reality could ever offer.

And really, in a world that insists on being aggressively mundane, isn't that exactly what we need?

Now stop reading about fantasy and go write some.

Day 2: CONCEPT VS. PREMISE: The Ultimate Guide for Writers Who Procrastinate

November 2, 2025

What's the Difference? (Besides Your Ability to Pitch at Parties)

CONCEPT = The Spark

The concept is the "what if?" that woke you up at 3am. It's the kernel, the seed, the thing that made you think, "Oh, that could be interesting."

Concept is NOT a story. It's the idea of a story.

Examples of Concepts:

"What if a girl discovered she had magical powers?" (Yawn. Been done. Keep going.)
"What if a girl discovered she had magical powers—but they only worked when she was lying?" (Now we're talking.)
"Two people fall in love." (Cute. Also describes 90% of all fiction ever written.)
"Two vampire enemies fall in love during a centuries-old war." (Underworld has entered the chat.)

See the difference? A strong concept has that twist, that unique angle that makes it high concept—meaning you can pitch it in one sentence and people actually lean in instead of slowly backing toward the exit.

The Concept Test:

If you can say your idea in one sentence and someone responds with "Ooh, I'd read that," you've got a concept. If they respond with "Yeah, that's nice," you've got a generic idea that needs more spice.

PREMISE = The Story Blueprint

The premise is what happens when you take your concept and add:

WHO it's happening to (characters)
WHAT they're doing about it (plot)
WHY it matters (stakes)
WHERE/WHEN it's happening (setting)

The premise is your story's foundation. It's what goes in your book blurb, your query letter, your frantic explanation to your friend when they ask what you're writing.

Transforming Concept into Premise:

CONCEPT: "A soldier restarts time whenever he dies."

PREMISE: "A soldier fighting aliens gains the ability to restart time whenever he dies—and uses it to become the weapon that might finally win humanity's losing war." (Edge of Tomorrow / Live Die Repeat)

CONCEPT: "A man with magical powers lives in modern Chicago."

PREMISE: "Harry Dresden, Chicago's only professional wizard, takes on supernatural cases the police can't handle—from rogue vampires to faerie politics—while trying not to die. Again." (The Dresden Files)

CONCEPT: "A girl dies of cancer."

PREMISE: "Hazel, a teen with terminal cancer, falls in love with Augustus, a fellow cancer survivor, and together they seek meaning in a life that won't give them the time they deserve." (The Fault in Our Stars)

See the difference?

Concept = Interesting idea

Premise = Actual story you can write

Why This Matters (Beyond Sounding Smart at Writer Conferences)

1. You Can't Write a Concept

Seriously. You can't. Many writers (yes, you, the one frantically typing Chapter 1 right now) start with a cool concept and assume that's enough. Then around Chapter 7, they realize they don't actually have a story—just a cool idea that ran out of steam.

A concept sparks the imagination. A premise sustains 80,000 words.

2. Premises Force You to Make Decisions

When you develop your premise, you have to answer hard questions:

Who is this happening to? (A character with personality, not "chosen one #47")
What do they want? (And why does the concept make it hard to get?)
What happens if they fail? (If the answer is "nothing really," you don't have stakes)
What makes THIS version unique? (Because "magic school" isn't enough anymore)

3. Premises Are What Sell Books

Agents don't buy concepts. Readers don't buy concepts. They buy premises—stories they can envision reading.

"A book about magic" = concept (boring)

"A boy discovers he's a wizard and must attend magic school while an evil wizard who killed his parents tries to return to power" = premise (Hello, Harry Potter money)

How to Level Up Your Concept into a Premise

Step 1: Add Specificity

Generic concept: "A girl has magic."

Specific concept: "A girl discovers she can see people's deaths—but only when she touches them."

Step 2: Add Conflict

Concept with conflict: "A girl who can see people's deaths by touching them must save her sister—who doesn't believe her and thinks she's losing her mind."

Step 3: Add Stakes

Full premise: "A girl who sees death by touch must convince her skeptical sister that she's in danger—before the vision she saw comes true in three days, and she loses the only family she has left."

Step 4: Add Your Unique Angle

Elevated premise: "A girl cursed to see death by touch has spent her life in isolation—until her estranged sister appears with a death vision only three days away, forcing her to leave her sanctuary and enter a world that fears people like her, while racing against time to change a future that's never been changed before."

Chef's kiss. That's a premise.

The High-Concept Secret Weapon

High-concept stories are both simple AND unique. They're easy to pitch but haven't been done to death (or they combine familiar elements in fresh ways).

High-Concept Examples:

"Jaws, but in space" = Alien
"Romeo and Juliet, but vampire vs. werewolf" = Underworld
"The Titanic, but it's a space station" = well, someone should write that

The trick? Take something familiar and add a twist that makes it yours.

Your Concept/Premise Homework

Because yes, there's homework. This is Day 1, and we're not messing around.

Part 1: Identify Your Concept

Write down your story idea in ONE sentence. If it's longer than one sentence, it's probably premise creeping in (or you're explaining the entire plot, which means you're procrastinating).

Part 2: Build Your Premise

Using your concept, answer:

WHO is the protagonist? (Name, defining trait, what makes them interesting)
WHAT do they want? (Concrete goal, not "to be happy")
WHY is it hard? (The obstacle your concept creates)
WHAT happens if they fail? (Real consequences)
WHAT makes this unique? (Your hook, your twist, your thing)

Part 3: The Elevator Pitch Test

Can you explain your premise in 30 seconds in a way that makes someone say "That sounds cool" instead of "That's nice, dear"?

If not, keep refining. A premise that can't be pitched clearly is usually a premise that isn't clear in your own head yet.

And that's okay. Building premises is like building muscles—it takes practice and a concerning amount of effort, but eventually, you get better at it.