As we inch toward publication of my third book, Funeral of Hopes, on June 23, I wanted to discuss something interesting that readers may have noticed in the first two books.

While I hope that my male characters, like Uileac and Orrinir, always have strong masculine energy, they’re a little different than what one may find in the typical fantasy story. This difference is their unrepentant displays of deep emotional states, something I feel is sorely lacking in most media representations.

When either husband cries, there is no suggestion from the other that they’re being weak or simply need to “man up.” They’re allowed the freedom of expression in any mood, whether that’s angry or grief-stricken. The women in their lives never chastise them for this, nor does anyone seem uncomfortable by the shocking idea that men have feelings too.

This may be because the first half of my series is more low-stakes and character-driven, but I’d hope that other authors can find place for male vulnerability in larger epics, too. I certainly try to retain this in the latter half of the Eirenic Verses, when we shift toward the adventure and thriller subgenres. (You can read more about what to expect from the Eirenic Verses over in this post.)

While I’m virulently opposed to the “men’s rights activists” movement, I do agree with them on one point: men have been forced to deny their emotions for far too long until it ferments into rage.

Of course, misogyny or violence is never okay. Do not think I’m excusing the many terrible things that men do, both to themselves and to women. However, can we truly expect generations of traumatized, repressed, and resentful men to perfectly articulate their feelings?

It may surprise one, given the “man-hating lesbian” stereotype, that I do have many men in my life who I love and cherish. Indeed, some might be baffled that I’d care enough to write so thoughtfully about male characters at all.

But it shouldn’t be that shocking. A good writer can write all genders, and I’d like to think I’m a good writer. Men are humans too, and I grieve the thought that they have been denied the full palette of human emotion through socialization.

Many times I grow frustrated at other women who mock men for showing feelings, who denigrate them for being “weak” or “babyish” for getting upset about things we may not understand. I grow equally frustrated at men who enforce this pinioning of their fellow men.

I wanted to fix that in my fantasy world – Breme specifically.

Breme has a highly matriarchal culture. The all-female High Poet Society is integral to its continued existence, a key player in every element of Bremish life. As such, the machismo present in our world never evolved here, protecting men from these toxic ideologies.

Every Bremish person, no matter their gender, is encouraged to feel and care for one another. Previously, one saw this in Pride Before a Fall, where Orrinir is given leave to care for his husband just as another soldier got time off to tend to his postpartum wife. Relationships are valued, seen as societal glue and precious assets.

This does not mean that Breme is all warm fuzzies.

Many of the same problems in our world still exist there, such as domestic violence, rape, child labor, and capital punishment. After all, the whole reason that the series begins is because of 9 Years Yearning, which revolves around child soldiers.

Uileac Korviridi and Orrinir Relickim are both sent to the War Academy well before the age of majority; in fact, Orrinir becomes a child laborer at just six years old. That absolutely sucks.

Some of the rituals are brutally unthinkable, like ripping out a High Poet’s fingernails to bond her with Poesy. We get to see that ritual up close and personal in the fifth book, Absent All Light, which will be released in Summer 2026.

However, I’d like to think that in this one field – of emotional support and care – Breme is superior to our own society. This difference frees me to explore all the nuances of the male psyche.

I’m tired of the “big tough emotionless guy” stereotype, something I directly challenge through Orrinir. He is many things: fierce, competitive, and a damn good swordsman. However, he’s also gentle, loving, and vulnerable with those he trusts most.

Simultaneously, I’m tired of the idea that being affectionate makes men effeminate, particularly gay men. Uileac and Orrinir are most certainly men; neither takes a passive role or meekly submits. They fight – physically and verbally – and they pride themselves on their martial prowess.

Restrictive ideas, like ignoring male emotion or mimicking heterosexual dynamics, stifle good characterization.

A man can be brave and strong while still holding space for love and affection. Two men can be in a relationship without one being the “woman.”

And, of course, men can love women in entirely platonic ways, as Uileac and Orrinir love Cerie. They can respect women as peers or even superiors, like my characters do with the High Poets. These are not alien concepts, and they should not be treated as such in any fiction, but especially fantasy.

In this amazing genre, we are invited to create unique cultures. To see the same patriarchal views replicated, over and over again, is irksome. Attempting to reverse this, where women are innately dominant over men, also comes across as simplistic.

Why would we churn out the same tired stereotypes and gender imbalances? We have so many opportunities to dream of something better: where men and women are equals, both valued for their separate roles.

And, most importantly, a place where men are encouraged to show everything in their hearts, even if it may be uncomfortable.