The Algebra of Storytelling: Why Consistency is the Real Magic

May 6, 2026

"In the algebra of fantasy, A times B doesn't have to equal B times A. But, once established, the equation must hold throughout the story."
—Lloyd Alexander (1965)

In just one sentence, Lloyd Alexander offers a deceptively simple truth that every storyteller—regardless of genre—needs to hear.

At first glance, his quote seems aimed exclusively at fantasy writers. After all, he was the mind behind The Chronicles of Prydain, a richly imagined world of enchantment and epic quests. But the wisdom in his words travels far beyond dragons and spells. It speaks to every writer shaping a narrative, whether that world unfolds in outer space, a 1940s detective’s office, or a quiet town café.

So what exactly does he mean?

The Equation Doesn’t Have to Be "Real" — Just Reliable

In mathematics, A × B equals B × A. That’s the commutative property. But stories aren’t math—they’re meaning. And fiction grants you the freedom to create worlds that don’t obey the laws of physics, gravity, or even logic as we know it.

In your story, A × B might be a hero finding a magical key and unlocking a gate to a hidden realm. B × A—using the gate first, then finding the key—might lead to entirely different results. That’s fine. You’re the architect. But once you’ve set that rule in motion, it must remain true for the rest of the story.

This is the algebra of storytelling: you invent the equation, but once you do, it has to hold.

While fantasy makes these invented systems more obvious—think spell rules, magical consequences, or talking animals—every genre has its own internal logic.

- In science fiction, faster-than-light travel or sentient machines must follow consistent principles.

- In mystery, clues must add up fairly; you can’t solve the crime with a surprise twin unless the possibility was foreshadowed.

- In romance, emotional arcs need to ring true, even if the setting is a tropical island or a regency ballroom.

No matter the genre, your world—however strange or familiar—has rules. And readers will suspend their disbelief so long as you don’t break your own equation.

When readers enter your story, they sign an invisible contract: "I’ll believe in your world—even if it’s wild—as long as you don’t cheat."

That’s the heart of Alexander’s message. It’s not about limiting your creativity. It’s about respecting the reality you’ve created. Whether it’s built from stardust, spreadsheets, or suburban cul-de-sacs, the world must remain true to itself.

So invent boldly. Reverse gravity. Rewrite history. Let hearts speak aloud or thoughts shape matter. Just remember: once A × B means something in your world, B × A can’t casually mean something else.

Because in the end, the real magic of storytelling isn’t in what’s possible. It’s in what feels true.