I’m a writer. Of course I’m going to have controversial opinions about the romantasy debate.
But first, what is romantasy? Well…that’s the question. And no one has a straightforward answer. It is a topic widely debated in the writing (and reading) community online. And while I am by no means an expert on writing (or marketing, because let’s be honest, “romantasy” is a marketing term), I do have enough opinions to write a whole blog post about it.
Romantasy has been around for a while, but trying to define it has divided the internet over and over again. Is it a romance first or a fantasy first? If the main plot hinges on the romance, does it require a happily ever after? Does it have to conform to genre romance standards? Or is there some wiggle room because the fantasy elements already subvert our expectations? So many questions, so few answers.
M.K. Lobb made some fantastic points in her Writer’s Digest post about this term, where she discussed the marketability of “romantasy” and the unfortunate boxes many (women) writers are shoved into just because they decide to write fantasy with a romance subplot. And yet, the “crossroads where fantasy and romance intersect” are still muddled. I encourage you to read Lobb’s post, especially as it regards marketing and diversity in publishing, but I’m going to shift the focus from trying to define the term to trying to understand what is expected in a romantasy novel.
For the longest time, I thought I wrote fantasies. Full stop. Magic, fairies, quests. Cosmic beings made flesh. Great battles between good and evil. Chosen ones and powerful artefacts and dangerous journeys. There were always world-ending consequences if the good guys didn’t win. And if the main character fell in love, that was just a happy little accident. I never set out to write romances*, but they happened anyway. And, as Lobb mentioned in her post, I think this is where the line between romance/fantasy/romantasy becomes blurry–take away the romance, and the plot doesn’t fall apart. But the characterization does. Something about these stories hinges on the character’s relationships. And without them, the plot still moves forward, the world still needs saving, but that something is lost amid the high-stakes conflict.
(* I can’t explain it, but the idea of writing a romance is so embarrassing to me! Maybe because I don’t have enough experience in the romance department of my life….)
If a book is marketed as a romantasy, readers want and expect some kind of romance (this is why tropes like enemies-to-lovers are so good at pulling in an audience). They want those internal thoughts about the love interest. They want to experience those interactions alongside the fantasy plot. But which comes first–the romance or the fantasy? And what else can readers expect from a romantasy?
Fantasy is inherently otherworldly, an escape, and because of this, it already subverts our expectations. Anything can happen in fantasy, and it doesn’t need a real-world explanation (though of course many real issues are explored, as fantasy can be a mirror to our own world). And so, if “romantasy” is a romance set in a fantasy world, then I argue that we can’t expect the same requirements that we see in genre romance, like a happily ever after. There are always going to be larger stakes in a fantasy world. And even if the characters end up together, they are going to be changed.
So instead of a happily ever after or happy for now (these are apparently the only two ways a romance can end), I’d like to propose a secret third thing: a “they survived.” They lived through the high-stakes fantasy plot and got together in the end, but can they be considered happy? Or is there some underlying trauma and tension that prevents them from being truly happy, even if they are with the person they love and fought for?
They survived, but they suffered first.
It is a debate that’s sure to come back around in a few months, but for now it’s safe to say that no one really knows what romantasy is or how to define it or what to expect from it when there is so much overlap. It is also safe to say that any opinion on the matter is subjective. Like I said, I’m not an expert. I don’t write romances. My characters just happen to fall in love, and if they end up together at the end of the book or the series, then can I capitalize on the marketability of romantasy? Or am I stepping on toes since I didn’t set out to write a romance? Ask Kirkus, who calls my book “a Sapphic fantasy romance series-opener brimming with blood and longing.” A fantasy romance–a romance set in a fantasy world–a romantasy.
All in all, genre romance and genre fantasy have mostly clear definitions and expectations, but those lines blur when publishers take the best of both worlds and shove them into some Frankenstein-esque amalgamation that hinges on its marketability and influentiality.
Heirs of Bone and Sea
Climb the tower. Kill the princess.
Evhen, princess—no, queen—of Vodaeard, is on a revenge mission. After witnessing her parents' brutal murder by the king of Marama and the horror of his undead army, she's vowed to kill his daughter. It'll be poetic justice and also take away his supernatural edge in the war. But when she realizes the princess might be an ignorant pawn, she changes course and hides her royal identity—after all, she can't trust an enemy, no matter how beautiful she is.
Stay alive. Break the curse.
Princess Kalei of Marama is moon-blessed, allowing her to resurrect her kingdom's loyal subjects. But when she's attacked in her safe lighthouse by a fiery pirate, her worldview is shattered once she learns what her power is really being used for. Determined to prove her innocence and willingness to stop her father, she has no choice but to trust her would-be killer to safely deliver her to the Vodaeardean princess. But who can she trust in when it seems Captain Evhen is not the only one who wants her dead?
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