The perils and allure of magic in storytelling

Magic is seductive. As writers, we see it as a convenient escape hatch, a way to resolve impossible situations without sweating the details. And yet, it’s a trap that too many authors -myself included in the early days - have fallen into. A hero is outnumbered, the stakes impossibly high, the clock ticking. Enter magic: a flick of the wrist, a muttered incantation, and suddenly the problem vanishes. Lightning bolts, enchanted walls opening, eagles swooping in to carry our heroes across continents… and just like that, tension evaporates.

When I see it, I groan. Was the protagonist ever really in jeopardy if the solution was always at her fingertips?

This is why, in my own work, magic is never a convenient narrative Band-Aid. I quiz myself rigorously: is this spell essential, or am I just using it to paper over plot holes? My approach has two guiding principles: magic must be limited, difficult, unpredictable - and, above all, terrifying.

It is a power wielded only sparingly, by those who have devoted years - or decades to mastering it. Spells are precise, idiosyncratic, each with its own narrow purpose. Success is never guaranteed, and the margin for error is slim.

Magic is like nuclear power: it can bring tremendous benefits, but at a cost. Control is illusory, and consequences are inevitable. Necromancy, for example, ages the practitioner, weakens the body, and can drive the unwary to madness. There are no guarantees, no neat resolutions, and certainly no white-or-black morality.

In my To Snare a Witch series, I try to show magic in all its chilling complexity. Its use is fraught, morally ambiguous, and utterly terrifying - because the most compelling stories arise when power is dangerous and uncertain.

I’d love to hear your thoughts. Do you enjoy magic as a wondrous escape, or does it risk undermining tension for you? Share your views - I promise, no incantations required.