“By the time Jon left the armory, it was almost midday. The sun had broken through the clouds. He turned his back on it and lifted his eyes to the Wall, blazing blue and crystalline in the sunlight. Even after all these weeks, the sight of it still gave him the shivers. Centuries of windblown dirt had pocked and scoured it, covering it like a film, and it often seemed pale grey, the color of an overcast sky . . . but when the sun caught it fair on a bright day, it shone, alive with light, a colossal blue-white cliff that filled half the sky.”
— George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones
Fantasy takes us places. They should be places of wonder and mystery. The secret of fantasy is that it reflects one aspect of our world — the often hidden but ever present existence of the wondrous and awe-inducing beauty of the universe. The converse is also true. Places of death and mystery also call to us, evoking the deepest meaning of humanity, which is our losing battle with immortality. In that sense, fantasy is not delusion or mere invention, but the image in a deep clear pool reflecting back exactly what we are.
I'm a fantasy fan and I'll bet you are too. I also am in the early stages of building a fantasy world and writing stories and novels. It will be a world like Mesopotamia and my goal is to create something immersive like the best fantasy worlds out there.