When I was a kid, I loved fantasy novels. Tolkein’s The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit, Hickman and Weis’ Dragonlance, Jordan’s Conan the Barbarian and the like. There was something special about opening up a book filled with magic.
Today I still read fantasy sometimes. Who doesn’t want to be transported to a magical place with characters with unusual names, like Frodo and Daenerys? Who wouldn’t want to discover magical lands with homes built into the hillsides or interesting structures like a wall 700 ft tall and built from ice? And who doesn’t feel for a simple people, perhaps farmers, when their homeland is invaded by an evil army? Maybe the main character can be the caretaker of a magical ring and…waitaminute…
I’m writing a story about a man who is transported to a fictional town called Hoopstad with the use of a mystical war medal. He’s surrounded by polders and windmills. He’s on a farm, with people named Pim and Joop, surrounded by Nazis. Geez…am I writing a fantasy novel?!? I suppose it’s all just a matter of perspective. And here I thought my biggest fantasy
was in the bedroom just finishing the darn thing!
Have a great week and happy reading