The Jedi I Couldn’t Find in Star Wars

So I Wrote Them Myself

A fan fiction experiment that turned into a philosophical exploration of the Force.

There is a strange moment that happens when you love a story long enough. You realize the story you fell in love with is not exactly the story everyone else sees. For me, that story was Star Wars.

Like most people of my generation, I grew up on it. Lightsabers, smugglers, mystics in robes speaking about an invisible energy that binds the galaxy together. But as I got older, the thing that stuck with me wasn’t the battles or the ships.

It was the Force.

Not as a superpower, but as a philosophy.

George Lucas borrowed heavily from Joseph Campbell, Zen, and older spiritual traditions when he built the Jedi. That part fascinated me. The idea that there was a universal energy field connecting life, perception, morality, and consciousness. After the Empire Strikes Back, I couldn’t read the Persian poets without hearing Yoda’s voice…

Hafiz: I wish I could show you, when you are lonely or in darkness, the astonishing light of your own being.

But somewhere along the way, most stories about Jedi started to feel like something else.

The Force became a power system.

Levels. Abilities. Training trees. Rankings. They made it a skills tree for a video game.

I admit it. I loved it enough that I pursued it, even though I found it shallow. That shallowness couldn’t sustain me. I needed more than Yoda quotes. I needed deep water. So, I asked myself, ‘what would the Jedi look like if you took the philosophy seriously?’

Then I wrote them.

Fan Fiction, But Not the Kind You Think

Years ago I wrote a Star Wars fan fiction novel called A Force to Contend With. It was followed by a sequel, Dark Run.

I know. It’s just another fan fiction. I never expected it to go anywhere. Lucas film obviously isn’t going to pick up a random manuscript from someone who decided to explore the Force differently… I wish they had. I think the story would have done better than the Disney films.

But I made it available online anyway.

Partly because I wanted to see if the idea worked.

Once I was in the story, I loved the characters that started appearing.

I also discovered that fan fiction is one of the most honest creative spaces left. After all, it’s not cheap writing just to bring profits to a studio. It’s a sincere attempt to add something meaningful to the dialogue. Technically, transmission is one way, the studio gives you something, you take it. Fan fiction is actually a conversation with the originator. And there is always a conversation. Lucas minimized Jarjar because of fan reaction. Disney is seeing a decline in Star Wars revenue.

When you’re writing fan fiction, you are thanking the originator for inspiring you, for changing your world by showing you there is more to life than meets the eyes.

Star Wars is that mythic.

The central character in my story is a Jedi named Preston G Waycaster. You can call him G, pronounced gee. You can ask what G stands for. Good luck getting an answer. But other than that, what’s different about him other than he can tap into the Force?

He’s not trying to rebuild the Jedi Order.

He’s not trying to lead an army.

In fact, he actively avoids followers.

These things immediately put him at odds with most Jedi narratives.

The Jedi as a Wandering Mystic

G sees the Force differently than most Jedi.

He believes the Force isn’t something that belongs to Jedi at all.

It belongs to everyone.

Not just the disciplined. Not just the trained. Not just the “chosen.”

Everyone.

In the story he even argues that ordinary experiences — love, compassion, even moments of everyday awareness — can open the same states that monks and mystics spend decades trying to reach.

Which leads him to do things Jedi traditionally don’t do.

He heals people anonymously, regardless of what side of a war you’re on!

He refuses to take political sides.

He avoids becoming a symbol.

He’s less like a knight and more like a wandering monk.

Or maybe a philosopher who accidentally ended up with a lightsaber.

The Problem With Labels

One of the ideas I wanted to explore was the strange way we divide things into categories.

Jedi.

Sith.

Light.

Dark.

What happens if those labels stop working?

At one point in the story I imagined a moment where a Jedi is about to kill someone out of certainty that it is the “right” thing to do.

And a Sith stops her.

Not because the Sith has become good.

But because she understands something she has forgotten.

That moment fascinated me. Their story inverted. One Jedi went dark. One Sith shined a light.

Because morality in Star Wars is usually framed as identity, you are represented by the light you carry. Remember, Star Wars was supposed to be black and white, or blue and red. There were no hints of shades of gray or even different colored lightsabers until Return of the Jedi; and that production necessity, not a creative choice. Luke fighting on the floating barge against the blue skies- his blue lightsaber became invisible.

So they made his lightsaber green.

A whole new concept was born. Now there were classes of Jedi.

Meanwhile, The Sith were just red, just dark. As if evil can’t be sophisticated or nuanced. Old school was, if you are a Jedi you behave one way and if you are a Sith you behave another.

Life is never that black and white.

Sometimes the person labeled “good” makes the darkest choice in the room.

And sometimes the person labeled “dark” shows mercy.

Why Write Fan Fiction at All?

Some people look down on fan fiction.

I’ve never understood that.

Fan fiction is one of the purest forms of storytelling.

You’re stepping into a shared myth and asking:

What else could this mean?

In my case, it also gave me room to explore ideas that might not fit neatly inside traditional Star Wars storytelling. It echoed my own psychological growth of not fitting in most of my life. Not fitting in led me down a different path. Not Frost’s road less traveled, perhaps. Can you mix art and psychology into one?

Philosophy!

The strange inner conversations people have with themselves.

Characters who are less interested in winning battles than understanding why battles keep happening.

The Quiet Life of a Story

My book is out there.

People have read it. I don’t know how many.

I have no illusion that Lucasfilm will ever call me.

But sometimes I wonder how many readers quietly kept it. Saved the file somewhere. Reread a chapter once in a while. I wonder if it ever got mentioned at the Lucas story boarding sessions.

Writers rarely get to see that side of their work.

Most readers never leave reviews or comments. Stories simply drift into their lives for a moment and then move on with them.

And that’s okay.

Stories don’t always need to explode into popularity to matter.

Sometimes it’s enough that they exist. Sometimes what we write, fan fiction or not, is not for the masses but for our own soul’s clarification.

The Jedi I Was Looking For

Maybe there was a little idea of fixing Star Wars when I dived into a Force to Contend With. Dark Run wasn’t about fixing Star Wars; it was about evolving the character arcs. One character had to be shifted from the Star Wars ‘verse in order to evolve her further. Keepers of the Peace became her story.

It was about exploring the idea that first fascinated me when I was a kid watching Obi-Wan Kenobi explain the Force. It was about the training Yoda gave. I would be a content with a whole movie of just Yoda training.

Exploring the suitableness of reality. That there might be something invisible connecting everything. That even if the dark side touches a tree, creating a cave you must enter, you can go there without a lightsaber.

That’s the King Arthur story! Each knight had to find the darkest part of the forest to them, then enter. This is something that isn’t owned by institutions.

We all must enter our darkness; we must face our own dragons. The knights of old would want you to slay it. I want to tame the dragon, befriend it. Minecraft should have options. Star Wars should have shades of gray.

The black and white shallow world of the two dimension screen can be maintained while still making something available to anyone who is willing to notice it.

Whether you call that the Force, consciousness, or something else entirely is almost beside the point.

But if Jedi existed in that kind of universe, I suspect they would look less like warriors and more like travelers.

Quiet people moving through the galaxy, helping where they can.

Trying not to get famous.

Trying not to become the story.

Just listening to the Force. Your own inner intuition.

And following it wherever it leads.