I have a confession. Barbara Phinney here. I have written a few fantasies. Okay, allow me to reword that.
What I mean by fantasies are stories set on distant worlds. Stories of love and betrayal, danger and desperation.
Oh, they're clean, yes. I'm not writing that kind of fantasy! All of them together are like a big novel, but they're separate stories. I wrote most of them years ago, and had considered them lost when my computer died years ago. Then, searching through an old file box, I found badly mangled and edited with red pen copies of some of them. I was stunned, and a bit excited.
They were total world building. One editor criticized them once saying that in terms of astrophysics, they couldn't exist. And being intimidated, I chose to tuck them away and think they were total losses.
I've dug them out and I still love them. Distant worlds where races struggle, sometimes to get along, sometimes to survive, races with unique abilities and beliefs, living on lush distant planets, they were so much fun to write.
Sometimes we need to write that crazy story, that silly song, that foolish poem.
Will they get read? Will they ever get bought? Who knows? But to delve into a world where planets eclipse each other and races must set aside differences in order to survive, I do realize one thing. They're really about people, looking for love, and acceptance.
I don't believe in aliens. But I do believe in the power of love.