I love gore. I love war and well-written fight scenes. I love how some people can transfer their visions of combat into words and dedicate more than two chapters of their book to just that one battle. I love action.
I also love Mage, wizardry, witchcraft, spell-binding and the world of the afterlife. Not those child’s play spooks, though. Not those about ghosts coming back to dwell in homes and haunt living beings. But ‘real’ enchanting stories of communication between realms and beautiful out-of-this-world races where the characters leap off the pages and the events pull you into each paragraph.
Sometimes, you can’t get enough of it: you just shut your eyes and imagine yourself present in the scenes, be it as an onlooker or a character actively involved.
I love to read about them. I love to get myself enticed, entranced, encaptured and enraptured by these stories. So much so, that when I’ve finally reached the end of it, it takes me a few days to recover and return to the real world. And then, I would start over again with another similar story.
However, as much as I love them, I cannot seem to write them. All of my stories somehow swerve towards the direction of the real life. Towards relationships and petty conflicts that we all experience in our daily life. It’s boring to me but I know, from reviews that there are people (and quite the majority of readers, in fact) who actually just enjoy plain, ordinary life stories and I find myself trying to appease the demands of this particular group of readers.
Maybe someday, I will be able to write some hardcore action stories or enchanting otherworldly fantasies that will assuage my interest. Who knows?