How To Get Ideas For A Fantasy Novel

Fantasy novels thrive on originality, but inspiration doesn’t have to come from grand epics. My favorite method is to start small—with a single emotion or theme. For instance, if I want to explore 'betrayal,' I might imagine a knight whose closest friend is secretly a dragon in human form. Or if I’m drawn to 'redemption,' I could write about a necromancer trying to undo their past crimes by saving a kingdom they once doomed.

Nature is another endless well of ideas. A stormy ocean could hide a lost civilization, or a mountain range might be the spine of a sleeping titan. I once wrote a short story about a forest where trees grew from memories, and each leaf held a fragment of someone’s life. Everyday objects can be magical too—a mirror that shows alternate versions of yourself or a clock that ticks backward when danger is near.

I also draw from personal experiences, but cranked up to fantasy levels. A frustrating commute becomes a portal to another world. A childhood fear of the dark transforms into a shadow creature that only the protagonist can see. The trick is to take something real and stretch it until it fits into a fantastical framework. And don’t forget to read widely—not just fantasy, but sci-fi, horror, and even non-fiction. You never know when a random fact about deep-sea creatures or medieval architecture will ignite your next big idea.

I find inspiration in the strangest places. Walking through a dense forest or an old city with cobblestone streets sparks my imagination. I jot down snippets of dialogue or character quirks I observe in real life and twist them into something magical. Mythology is a goldmine—Greek, Norse, or even lesser-known folklore can be adapted into fresh stories. Sometimes, I blend two unrelated ideas, like a heist plot in a floating city or a detective story with dragons. Dreams also play a big role; I keep a notebook by my bed to capture those weird, vivid fragments before they fade.

Music is another powerful tool. A single song can evoke a whole scene or character in my mind. I also love flipping through artbooks or browsing fantasy art online; a single painting can inspire an entire kingdom or a cursed artifact. The key is to stay curious and let your mind wander without judgment. Even mundane things—like a rusty key or an abandoned house—can become the seed of an epic tale if you ask 'what if?' enough times.

I’ve been crafting fantasy stories for years, and my process is a mix of structured brainstorming and chaotic creativity. One method I swear by is the 'world-first' approach. I start by designing a unique setting—maybe a desert where it rains glass or a city built on the backs of giant turtles. Once the world feels alive, the plot and characters emerge naturally. For example, how would people survive in that glass rain? What kind of society would develop on moving turtle cities? These questions lead to conflicts, cultures, and eventually, a full-blown narrative.

Another trick is stealing from history but adding a fantasy twist. The War of the Roses became the basis for 'A Song of Ice and Fire,' so why not take a lesser-known event, like the Ming dynasty’s treasure voyages, and fill it with sea monsters or sorcerers? I also raid mythology and folklore. Slavic tales about Baba Yaga or Japanese yokai can be reimagined with new rules. Even fairy tales—what if Cinderella’s fairy godmother was a trickster spirit with a dark agenda?

Character-driven ideas work too. I once created a protagonist based on a combination of a grumpy librarian and a retired assassin, then built a magic system around forbidden knowledge. Mixing contradictions often leads to interesting dynamics. Lastly, I keep a 'spark file' of random ideas—a sentence, a name, or a weird fact—and revisit it when I’m stuck. Over time, those fragments connect in unexpected ways.

Adapt a myth or fairy tale, but change the context drastically. Put Beowulf in a corporate boardroom where Grendel is a hostile takeover. Set Rumpelstiltskin in a cyberpunk fantasy city where he's a hacker demanding source code instead of a first-born. The old bones of the story provide structure, but the new skin makes it entirely yours.