Ready for the long version of my latest Instagram post? Strap in.
Writing is political. We all know this. But as a writer, especially in science fiction and fantasy I’ve always tried to craft stories that stand on their own, free from the weight of today’s politics. I want my work to be a space where I can explore ideas and characters without being constantly pulled into the turbulent political landscape of the present day. Let’s face it—we get enough of that on the news. But lately, I’ve found that no matter how hard I try, my stories seem to come across as political, even when that’s the last thing I intended.
If you’ve been following me on Instagram, you know I’ve been playing around with the second and subsequent books in The Brightest Void. If you’re aren’t familiar with the series, it resolves around a 24th-century no-longer-a-superpower United States—specifically its Orbital Guard, a spacefaring version of the US Coast Guard.
The problem: the US and its military and federal law enforcement organizations, especially (even?) the Coast Guard, are deeply unpopular right now. And because of that, any story—any discourse in general—that mentions either, even in a neutral light, is perceived as a political statement. Only none of this even had any political undertones way back when I started the series in 2020. I chose a futuristic United States solely because it was the exact opposite of the planetary governments I used in Shadows of War, and felt like a fun challenge. Now it has a shadow of current politics hanging over it.
Because most writers have a stable of incomplete stories to work on, I looked further back for a new project, at some of the unfinished books in Shadows of War. Oh, yes, Chase fans. They exist. Maybe, I thought, I could finish Shadow of War 6, thirty-thousand words strong, started all the way back in 2019. But no—because the major plot revolves around internment camps, inspired by my visit to Manzanar in 2016. When I began the book, the theme felt poignant and historical, and I wanted to explore the human cost of authoritarianism and injustice. But with everything going on in the world today, I can’t help but feel that the story will be seen as a direct critique of current events. And that’s not what I intend.
So I took a look at Shadows of War 5, not nearly as complete, but also not awash in politics like book 6. Whoops—a subplot here revolves around the series stand-in for NATO doing some morally questionable stuff (yes, it’s true, sorry to burst your bubble, Commonwealth supporters). Again, this feels too political right now, and I have little desire to write about military power and corruption without it being interpreted as a commentary on today’s global conflicts or institutions when it’s not.
I know that some will read this and ask, “Why are you worried about this? These are real, tangible, current issues. Why are you moaning about them instead of leaning in and making your work political? And while we’re on that topic, why don’t you pull your awful, nationalistic, copaganda series where the characters are content being American?”
I fully recognize that this is a privileged problem. The fact that I’m upset about a story being misunderstood as political when I didn’t intend it to be comes from a place of relative safety. The ability to take a step back from the politics of the present and say, “I don’t want to engage with this right now.”
The problem is this: if readers assume I’m writing about the United States in 2025, they miss the actual themes of love, sacrifice, hope, and friendship. They ignore my voice—the one who has lived through the ups and downs of military life, who has seen the complexities of being in a family where duty and personal identity often collide. My stories come from my life, from experiences that shape how I see the world, and how I want to share that world with others.
So yes, my stories may suddenly and arbitrarily resonate with the current political landscape, but that’s not the lens through which I created them. They’re reflections of the humanity we all share—no matter where we are or what we believe.