I have a love/hate relationship with the Fantasy genre. I think that most writers within the genre do to some lesser or greater degree. It’s that quiet dissatisfaction with the stuff that you love that makes you think you need to pick up a pen and write those stories you feel are missing.
Now let me start from the outset that I love fantasy’s breadth. It’s a genre so wide that it’s possible to love one end and hate the other, and because we are creatures of individual tastes, when I say hate, I mean “not to my taste” not “bad”. There’s little more interesting than talking about the genre with people, sharing a love of some books and then raising an eyebrow at one of their choices and saying “really?” I love that there is a diversity of opinion and think that’s really, really healthy for the genre. And at the end of the day, it’s just that… an opinion. My personal tastes are no benchmark by which to judge against.
Normally, I’m a placid, tolerant kind of person. I think it’s fair to say that I am a nice person. However, yesterday I went Xmas food shopping and it brought out some inner rage.
I am practicising to become a grumpy old man – I believe after years of being nice, I have earned this right – and so, for your amusement, I present, in no particular order, the top ten things that nearly prompted a spat of shoppercide (mancepsicide? My Latin is limited to Google translate)