Since one of the fantasy stories I’ve been working on involves a diabetic protagonist, this caught my attention. I don’t know that I think of diabetes as a disability per se (though the American Diabilities Act does, I believe), but skimming through the articles, I am finding relevant things to ponder.
Though to my surprise, eventually the possibility of a cure was offered after all, only (and this sounds cliches without the context of the story) at a price the protagonist couldn’t/wouldn’t pay. But to have magic as the thing that makes everything all right–I just don’t do that. Magic is what creates problems; if it also helps solve them, it’s only because it was part of the problem first.
Interesting because the one thing I knew from the start of my book was that there wouldn’t be a magical cure. I knew instinctively that this would be cheating, but it did take me a while to articulate why. Fantasy is in the end mostly metaphor for real life, rather than something outside of it; to conjure up a cure when there is none in our world would be not only cheating, but in some sense lying to the reader. If in our world this is something that has to be dealt with, then in the fantasy world of my story it needed to remain the same.
Hopefully I’ve done my research (and chosen my readers) well enough that accuracy isn’t an issue. And it’s the protagonist’s sibling who feels she’s playing “second fiddle”–and for the most part, her realizations come from things other than the disability. And a happy ending–it would never occur to me that anyone couldn’t have a happy ending and a fufilled life, so long as the story supports it and it isn’t drawn out of thin air.
I suppose I’m most in danger of 2, since I do allow my character not only magical abilities, but even unusually strong ones (though again with a price attached). I think I manage to avoid it in everything but the giving of magic, though.