M. Alden Phillips's Blog

Why Social Fantasy?

Watching the series “Manhattan,” I realized that while it featured the great names of that project, its true power lay in its social history—the lives, structures, and ordinary rhythms beneath the headlines. Epic fantasy, by contrast, has long centered on kings, queens, knights, and thieves. But what if fantasy turned its gaze to toward common folk—the workers, families, wanderers—whose choices ripple through society? Social Fantasy asks us to imagine worlds as Social History taught us to read the past: through the lens of ordinary lives, dignifying wounds and rehearsing restoration.

Of course, I searched for Social Fantasy as an established sub-genre. I found references to social themes within fantasy novels, but no genre bearing the name. Why not? Has no one yet planted this flag? Have the stories I would call Social Fantasy been scattered across epic fantasy, urban fantasy, or low fantasy—misnamed, misfiled, and left without a covenant of their own?

I see Social Fantasy as a sub-genre where common folk dwell in mythic worlds and experience them as wholly natural. A magic weapon may surface, a mythical creature may appear, yet such wonders are not treated as extraordinary—they are woven into the fabric of daily life. In Social Fantasy, magic is not the spectacle of heroes but the atmosphere of community, surrounding and sustaining the lives of ordinary people.

This realization led me to ask not only why Social Fantasy has not been named, but how its naming might reframe the entire landscape of fantasy itself. If fantasy has long been defined by quests and crowns, what happens when we center kinship, covenant, and communal endurance? To name Social Fantasy is not merely to add another branch to the tree — it is to shift the roots, to reimagine what fantasy can be at its foundation.

And yet, as I searched, I found that other sub-genres under the fantasy umbrella sometimes flirt with these ideas. Epic fantasy may gesture toward community, urban fantasy may touch social themes, low fantasy may ground itself in ordinary lives — but none of them hold the communal focus at the core. None of them dignify ordinary lives as the covenant itself. That is the resonance Social Fantasy restores.

Epic Fantasy sees the mythic through a heroic lens. Its chronicles frame myth and mystery with kings, heroes, quests, and gods as the primary focus. Villages and common folk appear, but only as window-dressing. The hero is the subject; the people are the frame. And the purpose of a frame is to make the subject shine. In Epic Fantasy, the mythic exists — but it is harnessed to the chosen hero and the world-saving quest.

Urban Fantasy sees the mystic through a hidden lens. Magic exists in everyday life, but only for those who stumble upon it. The city’s enchanted scenery becomes backdrop — ignored or overshadowed in favor of lone protagonists or secret societies. Narratives follow wizards and wanderers, while communal life remains blind to the mythic that surrounds it.

Low Fantasy views the mythic through an uncanny lens. Magic appears only as rare, intrusive exceptions in an otherwise realistic world. Communal life persists, but the mythic is treated as superstition — feared, distrusted, and kept at the margins of ordinary existence. What is kept at the margins here will become the very subject in Social Fantasy.

By comparison, Social Fantasy views life through a communal lens. The mythic is the common, accepted voice of small villages and great cities alike — not spectacle, but atmosphere. Social Fantasy is less about destiny and more about wounds, continuity, and healing. Communal life is depicted in its gritty social structures, yet always dignified by the presence of magic — not as disruption, but as the ordinary resonance of the world itself.

We can see examples of fantasy that approach Social Fantasy, but still miss the mark. Terry Pratchett, for instance, satirizes guilds, civic institutions, and everyday life in a magical locale. His worlds normalize magic, but the focus rests on institutions rather than the rituals of ordinary folk. He nods toward Social Fantasy, yet his true bull’s-eye is satire.

Ursula Le Guin occasionally shifts her gaze toward the communal, yet her narratives remain hero-driven. Common folk are glimpsed, but the lens ultimately returns to gods and heroes. She gestures toward Social Fantasy, but her focus remains on the chosen figures rather than the covenant of ordinary lives.

Susanna Clarke treats magic as a social institution, layered with bureaucratic and cultural implications. The frame may include common life, yet the subject remains the great men who shape history. Ordinary people inhabit her narratives, but they are not the focus. Magic functions as social fabric, but never rises to communal sovereignty.

Even folktales retold often fall short of Social Fantasy. T. H. White’s retelling of the Arthurian legend includes glimpses of ordinary perspectives, yet the narrative ultimately returns to kings, knights, wizards, and destiny. The shortfall becomes clearest when everyday life is acknowledged, only to give way once more to the sweep of epic arcs.

How can we reframe fantasy through the lens of Social Fantasy? By asking new questions. What if communal scenes were the genre’s center rather than its margins? Epic Fantasy can be transformed into Social Fantasy simply by shifting the focus: replacing quests with communal rituals, destiny with continuity. Imagine The Fellowship of the Ring not as Frodo’s solitary quest, but as the Hobbits’ communal festival — a seasonal gathering whose rhythms carry them into the journey together.

Moving Urban Fantasy into Social Fantasy, the baker’s enchanted oven matters more than a wizard’s duel. Low Fantasy, reframed through Social Fantasy, would find magic woven into chores, gossip, and kinship covenants. What once was kept at the margins of ordinary existence now becomes ordinary, even sacred.

Together we raise the flag of sovereignty for Social Fantasy. I have lifted my voice in recognition; now we will put flesh on the bones of this genre. The blueprints of Social History can guide us into the future, where Social Fantasy stands defined — a covenantal sub-genre that dignifies communal life as mythic subject. Social Fantasy is not mine alone, but ours to steward — a genre where ordinary lives are lifted into mythic dignity.

#SocialFantasy #Fantasy #EpicFantasy #UrbanFantasy #LowFantasy #SpeculativeFiction #Mythic #CommunalLife #GenreManifesto #CovenantalSubGenre

Survivors are ensembles in Waking in Sheol, carrying the chorus of Social Fantasy. In this new genre, survival is never solitary — it is communal, covenantal, and mythic. Each voice adds cadence, each memory adds depth, and together they form the chorus of Social Fantasy.

Hardback available now:
Buy Waking in Sheol

Stories are thresholds in Waking in Sheol. Those stories find traction in Social Fantasy as a threshold.

Every story opens a passage — a crossing from silence into resonance. In Waking in Sheol, those passages are not just personal journeys, but communal thresholds. They mark the founding cadence of Social Fantasy, a new genre of epic fantasy where myth and memory intertwine to form covenant. Social Fantasy as a threshold is a creed for

readers seeking mythic storytelling and indie fantasy books.

Read Waking in Sheol instantly on Amazon:
Amazon Link

Discover more at www.mAldenPhillips.com.

I’m not the same as everyone else.
My story doesn’t follow the same old trail.
I don’t write to fit your outline—hook on page 6, inciting incident on page 14, antagonist on page 19.
I write to evoke, to echo, to fracture and restore.

Sheol is not a formula. It’s a mythic world.
It’s layered with emotional cadence, symbolic doubling, and ritualized truth.
It doesn’t ask for permission. It invites resonance.

If you’re looking for a cookie-cutter manuscript, this isn’t it.
But if you’re ready to walk the mist and carry a fractured heart, I welcome you.

If this speaks to you—even a whisper—I’d be honored if you shared it or left a line below. Sometimes the right echo begins with a single voice.

This began as a press kit.
It became a conversation.
Now it’s a map—unfinished, spiraling, and quietly alive.
🌒 Fantasy author interview with M. Alden Phillips
🔗 Fantasy Author Interview with M. Alden Phillips

The door to Sheol is open—and so is the conversation.
I’ve activated Goodreads Q&A for Waking in Sheol.
If you’ve journeyed with Jack, sensed echoes beneath the loam, or wondered about the Heart of Sheol… ask away.
I’d love to hear what stirred you, what puzzled you, or what you’re still carrying.
Myth, memory, and belonging—let’s talk.

Seven weeks ago, I released my first novel, Waking in Sheol.
For many readers, the journey begins with a click—an Amazon search, a book cover that calls to them, and a shipment that arrives with promise. Simple, right?

But behind that simplicity lies a long passage.
It took me fifteen months to outline, write, and edit the manuscript. I designed the cover—front, back, and spine—crafted the back blurb, selected the trim size, and formatted the book for Kindle e-book, paperback, and hardback. Then I sent my literary offering to Kindle Direct Publishing and waited for approval.

As an author, I want you to know: I see you, even if I can’t name you.

When someone purchases my novel, I receive a report—a royalty amount, a confirmation of sale. But I don’t receive your name, your email, or any way to thank you directly. That’s the quiet quirk of authorship.

So this is my offering: a general thank-you to all who felt drawn to my tale and took the step to purchase it.

- To the 1,000 readers who marked Waking in Sheol on Goodreads: I welcome you to my mythical world.

- To the 100 who received a copy through my promotion: you are now citizens of Eldriko.

- To those who purchased through Amazon: thank you for your support and patronage.

If you’d like to stay connected, I invite you to join my email list. Just drop me a note at:
📨 m.alden.phillips01@gmail.com

I appreciate all of you.

— M. Alden Phillips

To the 922 who entered—thank you. Waking in Sheol was never meant to be consumed, but carried. If it found you, I invite you to walk with me a little further.

This story began as a whisper—an echo of grief, wonder, and restoration. It now lives in the hands of readers who feel its pull. “If the story stirred something in you, there’s more waiting—quietly, patiently—on my website.”

Website: https://www.mAldenPhillips.com
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/m.alden.phi...
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/myMAldenPhil...

As an indie author navigating the emotional terrain of visibility and reader engagement, I’ve received countless offers for paid reviews. This dispatch is my response

Every morning, I receive a new message.
It begins with empathy: “We know how hard it is to get reviews.”
It ends with a transaction: “We guarantee them—for a fee.”

This is the algorithmic whisper we indie authors hear daily.
Not from readers. Not from kindred spirits.
But from review farms, marketing mills, and digital peddlers who’ve learned to prey on our ache to be seen.

Let me be clear:
I will not pay for echoes.
I will not barter trust for visibility.
I will not let my continuum be shaped by counterfeit resonance.

Reviews matter.
They are the lifeblood of discoverability, the signal that tells platforms our stories are worth surfacing.
But they must be earned—through connection, through emotional truth, through the slow, sacred build of authentic readership.

To my fellow authors:
You are not alone in this fog.
Your voice is not small.
Your journey is not invisible.

To readers—mine and others:
Your review is not just a star or a sentence.
It is a torch.
It lights the path for others to find what moved you.
It tells the algorithm, “This story matters.”

If you’ve read a book that stirred something in you—leave a review.
Even a single line can ripple outward.
Even a quiet echo can become a beacon.

We are building something real here.
Not a marketplace.
A mythic archive.
A continuum of voices that refuse to be bought.

To all who received Waking in Sheol through the Goodreads giveaway—thank you for stepping into the myth. If the story stirred something in you, I’d be honored if you left a brief review on Goodreads. Your words become part of the living archive, guiding future readers toward the flame.

Even a single sentence helps the continuum grow.

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/2...

With gratitude and resonance,

—M. Alden Phillips