What's unique about the SFF genre? Creativity, the power of metaphor and meaning, and tools to meet both logic and the inner dreamer. SFF writing just does more.
Those unfamiliar with science fiction and fantasy literature might imagine that it’s nothing more than facile wish-fulfillment. Fantasy writing at its worst is just what your English teacher accused: an opportunity for a weak writer to throw together whatever elements they want, with no demand for meaning, rules or logic.
You want a magical fairy princess riding a winged unicorn, who defeats armies of ogres and still needs to be rescued by her white knight? You’ve got it. Superheroes soaring through blues skies and defeating dastardly villains at every turn? You win.
But if that’s all you see when you look at SFF, if you believe SFF is “not real literature,” then you might just be missing the point.
There’s a power in symbolism: not only the symbolism that we acknowledge, but also the darker images that seem to lurk in the human unconscious in cultures the world round. Dragons, for instance, populate the uncharted places on every continent - in some culture they stand in for our fears and in others, for untamed strength. Ghosts and spirits are likewise prevalent in stories from all around the globe. Magic is a concept that we can’t seem to let go of, because it stands in for so much that is beautiful, inexplicable, and “magical” in the world around us.
Julia Cameron, creator of the course and book The Artist’s Way, describes creativity as a spiritual issue and our inner creator as a sensitive, brilliant, vulnerable child. Sometimes that child wants to create - and enjoy - art that is not academic, not intellectual, not perfect or impressive to others - but art that is simply fun. And that’s okay.
Speculative fiction allows us to open doorways in the psyche that we might never find or dare to explore with ordinary literary fiction. Reading and writing SFF lets our inner “little girl” or “little boy” come out to play. Sometimes, there’s no better gift you can give yourself than to let your inner dreamer explore on the page.
No matter the genre, every writer of fiction has to establish the consistency of character, voice, and world to merit a reader’s trust. If the main character of a novel suddenly kisses the man she hates, the discerning reader will either see this odd twist as the hint and plot device it is, or will want to chuck the book out a window, depending on how much faith they have in the author’s skill.
If you trust a writer, a character’s odd choice becomes a vital hint to the story; if you don’t trust the narrative, however, inconsistencies are just inconsistencies and a piece of fiction becomes less important and much less real.
In science fiction and fantasy, reader trust is founded on consistency in the magical and fictitious aspects of the world-building. Even magic makes no sense without rules. You can’t just slap magical creatures and spells around with no order or reason. Creating these rules and keeping the scope of your story’s magic or futuristic science while telling a good story with great style within them is vital, and it can be as much of a feat as any work of scholarly literary fiction could demand.
Perhaps the most powerful reason that fans of SFF tend to stick is because of the endless potential for layers of metaphor and meaning inherent to the genre.
From Laurel Winter’s Growing Wings, about a girl who suddenly starts to grow wings in adolescence (and whose mother, as a girl, had hers trimmed off by her well-meaning parents), to Ursula K LeGuin’s exploration of the multiple meanings of gender in the award-winning The Left Hand of Darkness and the Earthsea series, SFF can carry meanings from the obvious to the complex in ways that other fiction can only dream.
Anyone who’s read the classics will recognize that many of them have sci-fi/fantasy elements, if they are not outright SFF. George Orwell’s novels Animal Farm and 1984 are studied in high schools, often with no mention of the fact that they are works of fantasy and science fiction, respectively. They are perfect examples of the layers of metaphor and meaning - social, political, and personal - that can be created in a masterful work of SFF.
There are ways to write symbol and profound meaning into any piece of fiction (or non-fiction, for that matter); but the difference between fiction and SFF, in this capacity, is like the difference between a brass quartet and a symphony orchestra. The quartet can make beautiful harmonies, but the symphony orchestra can just do more. So does science fiction and fantasy.