I’ve spoken before about how trying to write a character with my disabilities doesn’t always work because the way my disabilities manifest is, frankly, very boring. Chronic fatigue means sometimes I sleep for a whole weekend. Migraines might mean I can’t stand up, look at light or eat anything. There’s no hack to getting past this, nothing I can really do. It’s a matter of waiting for it to pass.

In a more literary genre, I might feel confident exploring these conditions in slow, meditative narratives. But I write fantasy, where plot and action tend to come first. And as much as I might want to write representation of my experiences in my novels, I always come up against the same problem: How can you have an active protagonist who just lies in bed all day?

To be clear—I’m not speaking for all disabilities here. Plenty of disabled characters in fiction manage to be active—Kaz Brekker in Six of Crows, or Robin Hobb’s Fitzchivalry Farseer. These characters struggle, use accessibility accommodations, and often push through pain, but they can continue to drive plot despite (or in some cases, because of) their disabilities.

I’m talking specifically about what happens with disabilities where there is no pushing through, no plot driving—disabilities that require rest, sleep or silence. How can they work in what is now expected of a novel? How can these characters be architects of their own stories?

(Ottessa Moshfegh answers this question in her novel My Year of Rest and Relaxation—where the protagonist actively chooses to try and hibernate for a year. This aim is what drives the plot of the novel, and what makes the protagonist active. It’s a very clever approach, though not necessarily one that can be replicated now she’s used it.)

Recently I’ve been thinking more about how to combine the fantasy of the fantasy genre with disability; to put magical spins on otherwise mundane illnesses.

In my debut crossover novel, the male main character suffers from migraines that are in a lot of ways similar to my own, with a small exception: his migraines are triggered by dragons trying to communicate with him because he is the prophesied dracosith, a human destined to save these magical creatures from captivity.

His symptoms are the same as mine, as are some of the ways he tries to mitigate his symptoms. I can write about his experience authentically. But the added layer of prophecy and dragons—unfortunately not part of my own experience—allows me to feel confident he’s an interesting character.

There are other tricks I’ve learned to help make disability more impactful on the plot. Just as stress often exacerbates chronic illnesses in real life, my main character’s pain is always worst at points of high plot tension. The struggle hits at the least convenient times possible. That said, even in relatively calm parts of the novel, it never disappears. If I’m writing a disability, it’s part of the character, and not something that can be switched off for plot convenience.

Which brings me to a final rule I set for myself: Magic should never fix a disability. It’s simply not a trope I’m interested in writing, and reinforces dangerous ideas about the value of curing disability. So no fixing. But on the flip side, I think magic that affects, or even better, is intertwined with a disability is super interesting, and there’s so much possibility for exploration here.

It’s worked once—I’m really proud of the male main character in my debut novel, and I hope other people with migraines or chronic pain can see themselves in him, and in turn feel seen. The question now is: can I replicate him? Can I continue to write disabled characters that feel true to my lived experiences without making them uninteresting, or repetitive? Can I continue to combine magic and disability in new, exciting ways?

Again, this is not the only approach to writing disability in fantasy. It may not even be the approach I use throughout my career. But it’s the approach I’m using now, and I’m excited to see what characters I can create next.

Just a reminder that you can now buy Of Love and Dragons, a beautiful anthology I have a short story in, in both the UK and the US

Also check out my recent insta post about my debut novel. I should have more to share about this book in the next few months so keep an eye out!

If you’re a horror lover looking for disabled representation, my friend Faith Gladwin’s debut novel is out soon, and if you’re in the US there’s an ARC giveaway right now!!! Faith is an amazing author and the combination of ballet/body horror/chronic pain… really great stuff!!!

Let me know your favourite disabled characters in fantasy or other media! Let me know what you wish more authors would include! Or if you don’t have thoughts on this topic, let me know what you’re reading right now!