Whilst reading about nigromantic swords and aeromancy-pyromancy, I had cause to reflect on my need for fiction. By all accounts I am a reasonable man, then why read the tales fantastic? Surely, argues the realist, there is enough drama, wonder and the unexpected in the real world. After all, truth is stranger than fiction, the books assure us. Personally, this doesn't compile for me. Between waking up in the mornings, making my cheerful way to office, rejoicing in my project plans, enthusing in the project meetings, delighting in my coding and marvelling over the Work-Breakdown-Strcutures, I am unable to relate to that statement.
Yet, I perceive, others to be not so affected. They seem perfectly capable in their ability to find the magic in the mundane. A stronger man than I would probably choose to do something about it. Unfortunately, I am a weak sort of person, very comfortable in my lack of imagination. I prefer to have someone else imagine an appropriate sort of place with a few swords, maidens needing rescue and maybe a dragon or two. Then, go visit.