I write both science fiction and fantasy, but I've always preferred the former, because while we know a space elevator might work, with the right materials and bankrolling, we know, for a fact, that there's no such thing as elves.
As our understanding of ourselves and the world around us increases, we're finding less and less reason to think that there might be elves in the woods. And that's okay. It's great, in fact, because the woods aren't unexplored anymore. Now we get to write stories about aliens and their probing of various orifices.
I think that early fantasy stories were once science fiction. We dreamed in the spaces that we didn't understand, the unexplored places. We filled those holes with imagination. Unfortunately, then we slapped a "totaly legit no rly guys" sticker on those neat little ideas.
It's the circle of life, really. We never know what's just beyond the horizon. And we like to imagine we do. So we think of something, disprove it, and move the horizon a bit farther away.
If only we knew to clean up our old superstitions before thinking up new ones. I swear, if I hear about the UFOs cooperating with the dragons, I'm going to hit my head on something until I'm dumb enough to believe it.
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