The Fantasy Books That Shaped Me: A Journey Through My All-Time Favorites

Why These Books Matter to Me

I’ve always believed that the books we read aren’t just stories we consume; they’re seeds that sprout in the cracks of our imagination, shaping how we think, dream, and—in my case as an aspiring author—create entire worlds. This isn’t a list of the objectively “best” fantasy books out there (because seriously, who’s even qualified to make that call?). Instead, this is my list. These are the books that stuck with me long after I closed the cover, the ones that pulled up a chair in the back of my mind and made themselves quietly at home. Some of them I read years ago, others more recently, but all planted little sparks that helped ignite my love for fantasy and breathed life into the massive book series I’m writing today.

For every twist in my storyline or eccentric character I’ve crafted, I can trace the breadcrumbs back to moments in these books. They’re more than stories; they’re the scaffolding of my creative soul. Every friendship, betrayal, quest, and battle in these pages has lingered with me, whispering inspiration as I’ve mapped out the world of my own upcoming fantasy series.

The Dragonlance Trilogy by Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman

Oh, Dragonlance, where do I even begin? If you’ve read Chronicles, you’ll know that this trilogy isn’t just a story; it’s a warm, chaotic hug from an adventuring party you didn’t know you needed. A group of mismatched companions thrown into epic dangers and world-altering events is the beating heart of this series, and it’s every bit as fun as it sounds. From the deeply flawed (but lovable) Raistlin to the steadfast Caramon, Weis and Hickman made their characters so alive that you could almost hear their bickering over a campfire.

What stayed with me most about Dragonlance is how it perfectly captures camaraderie and the messy, beautiful bonds between people who wouldn’t have looked twice at each other under normal circumstances. That theme of finding connection in a fractured world? Yep, that’s absolutely something I plan to weave into my own series. And the adventures! The quests! Every time I cracked open one of these books, it felt like I was sitting in on the coolest Dungeons & Dragons campaign of all time.

All these years later, I still carry Dragonlance with me. It’s a masterclass in blending humor with heartbreak, action with introspection. I learned that no matter how high the stakes (and trust me, they’re sky-high in this series), it’s the quiet, human moments that make a fantasy story sing.

The Sword-Dancer Series by Jennifer Roberson

If Dragonlance is a story about friendship forged in fire, The Sword-Dancer Series is about passion, grit, and love wrapped in a whirlwind of swords and scorching deserts. There’s no getting around it—I fell hard for this series as a teenager and have reread it more times than I care to admit.

At its heart are two of the most unforgettable characters to jump off the page and smack you in the face with their awesomeness. Tiger and Del have this undeniable chemistry that’s equal parts stubborn tension and grudging respect. She’s a fierce, independent warrior with ice in her veins, and he’s a witty swordsman whose swagger hides his deeper struggles. The dynamic between them? Fireworks. That push-and-pull tension is something that’s burrowed deep into my storytelling style, and I find myself channeling a bit of their banter when I write dialogue between my own characters.

But it’s not just the romance that made this series lodge itself in my brain forever. Roberson creates a vividly textured world, from harsh deserts that feel like they could fry you alive to darkly mysterious cultures that linger after each chapter. And the fight scenes? Phew. The way sword fights were written made me feel the grit and precision of every move, and that attention to detail is something I’ll forever admire.

What Sword-Dancer gave me is the lesson that fantasy romances, when done well, can pack as much emotional punch as the most epic of battles. It taught me that characters—not just settings or magical systems—are what make stories truly unforgettable.

These two series may seem wildly different, but they share a common thread of relatability, heart, and high-stakes adventuring. They’ve helped shape the way I see the world of fantasy—not as a backdrop for action but as a stage where flawed, wonderful people fight, grow, and discover what matters most. And honestly? I can’t wait to give my readers that same kind of magical connection in my own books. Stay tuned.

Assassin's Apprentice Series by Robin Hobb

Robin Hobb’s Assassin's Apprentice was not my first fantasy book, but it was the first time a story truly pulled me under its spell because of its characters. FitzChivalry Farseer is, in my humble opinion, one of the most complex and heartbreakingly human protagonists in the entire fantasy genre. The series didn’t just ask, “What happens next?” It asked, “What does it feel like when it happens?” And boy, does Hobb make sure you’re there with Fitz, feeling every scrape, tear, and triumph.

What stuck with me most about this series (aside from its sheer brilliance) is how heavily it leans into relationships. You don’t just follow Fitz; you understand him. You ache with him. His ties to the enigmatic Fool, his loyalty to Nighteyes, and the complicated mess that is his connection with Burrich are the soul of the books. The intricate weaving of these relationships unlocked a new layer in my brain as a budding storyteller. It taught me that stakes don’t always have to be saving the world (though, you know, that’s still cool); the stakes can be as intimate as a single life dangling by a thread or the ache of a friend’s betrayal.

Hobb’s world is expansive—even her side characters have arcs that demand your attention—but it never overshadows the raw, emotional storytelling. This series nudged me to pour my heart into my characters and to make them painfully, beautifully real. I want my readers to root for them so hard they feel like family, just like Fitz feels to me.

The Mortal Instruments Series by Cassandra Clare

The Mortal Instruments series is like walking into a shadow-filled mirror of our world and finding it brimming with magic, danger, and a whole lot of crazy (the good kind). It’s urban fantasy done right, where the mundane cityscapes we walk through every day suddenly hide entire underworlds filled with demon hunters, Downworlders, and Nephilim clad in leather. Oh, and there’s more Seraph blades than anyone could reasonably count.

Cassandra Clare’s skill with urban fantasy is something I deeply admire. I mean, how many authors can seamlessly blend gory demon fights with the snarkiest of banter and make it look effortless? Her Shadowhunter world is gritty and shadowy, yet impossibly cool. The Institute’s ruined glamour and gritty New York streets had me wondering how on earth they managed to keep all this magical madness hidden from the average Starbucks-goer.

Beyond the action-packed scenes and witty one-liners, Clare’s knack for building tension between her cast of beautifully flawed characters is something I’ve taken notes on. Jace’s sarcasm, Clary’s stubbornness, Simon’s awkward-yet-endearing charm, and Magnus Bane’s sheer fabulousness? Iconic. The messy friendships, complex romances, and betrayals wrapped in glitzy runes are all so deliciously extra. It showed me how personal drama can thrive even in a high-stakes fantasy setting. Is it any wonder so many Shadowhunter tattoos exist in the real world? For my own series, I aim to bring that same sense of layered relationships and intrigue.

The Hunger Games Series by Suzanne Collins

If you’re not at least a little haunted by The Hunger Games, did you even read it? Suzanne Collins took the dystopian genre and gave it teeth. I mean, survival games as entertainment? Props to her for crafting a narrative that feels thrilling without glorifying the horrors it portrays. And then there’s Katniss Everdeen. She’s not your typical hero—that’s the point. She’s flawed, reluctant at best, and often more pawn than player, but that’s what makes her so unforgettable.

What really stuck with me wasn’t just the Capitol’s toxic glamour or the pulse-pounding, arrow-flying action scenes (though, of course, those ruled). It was the emotion. It’s the way The Hunger Games explores resilience in the face of unimaginable cruelty and how a single person can still wield hope—even if they don’t want to be the poster child for it.

Collins gave us a brutal world but never stopped anchoring us in humanity. The relationships between Katniss and her family, Gale, and Peeta kept the stakes intensely personal, even as the battles raged on. And who can forget moments like Rue’s song or the second the Mockingjay pin became a revolution’s symbol? The impact lives in those quiet, gut-punch moments where sacrifice and humanity meet.

For my own writing, The Hunger Games left an indelible mark. Fantasy can be grim, yes, but it can also forge a pathway for resilience and rebellion. I want my readers to feel the tension, the heartbreak, and the hope all wrapped together. If my story can make someone feel even a fraction of what The Hunger Games made me feel, well, then I’ll have done something right.

A Song of Ice and Fire by George R.R. Martin

Ah, Westeros. The land where even the weather is plotting against you, and nobody (seriously, nobody) is safe from a gruesome end. George R.R. Martin doesn’t just write fantasy; he puts you through a masterclass in human nature, political chaos, and the cost of power. This is a series where heroes don’t wear white hats, villains aren’t always twirling their mustaches, and pretty much everyone operates in morally muddy waters (which, coincidentally, might also contain a dragon or two).

What lingered with me most about A Song of Ice and Fire wasn’t just the jaw-dropping twists (R.I.P. to my trust issues after *******). It was the way Martin weaves political intrigue that feels so unnervingly real. Alliances build and crumble, secrets fester, motivations evolve—but it’s the characters that make it sing. From Tyrion’s sharp wit to Cersei’s unrelenting ambition, every person in Westeros feels three-dimensional, flawed, and capable of both great love and terrible destruction.

This series taught me that in fantasy, the stakes aren’t just measured in magical battles or dragons swooping in to save the day. The real tension comes from the choices people make when power, loyalty, and survival are on the line. For the series I’m writing, I want to explore that same complexity in my characters, where nothing is black and white and everyone thinks they’re the hero of their own story.

And then, of course, there are Martin’s world-building chops. He doesn’t just scope out a castle and throw a king on the throne; he’s got maps, ancient lore, family lineages, and entire histories running through his world. If I can recreate even a fraction of that depth in my series, I’ll consider it a huge win (minus the whole Red Wedding vibe, I promise...maybe...).

The Wheel of Time by Robert Jordan

I can still hear the whoosh of turning pages late at night when I first picked up The Wheel of Time. What started as a single book snowballed into a fourteen-book mega epic that pretty much redefined what it means to write “epic fantasy.” And I loved every twist, turn, and braid tug (looking at you, Nynaeve).

Robert Jordan didn’t just create a world; he created a cosmos. The sheer scope blows my mind to this day. His world feels infinite, complete with its own cultures, languages, traditions, and prophecies. The series serves up city-sized battles and interwoven prophecies right alongside deeply personal struggles. And somehow, Jordan achieves the impossible with dozens of POV characters whose arcs intertwine in ways that make you go, “Wait, how did he pull this off?”

The heart of it for me, though, is the theme of balance. The Light versus the Dark, free will versus destiny, Rand’s internal torment against his cosmic duty—it all left a lasting impression on me. This series taught me that fantasy can go big (massive, colossal, bigger-than-you-can-imagine big) while still grounding its characters in very human fears, desires, and triumphs.

Now, when I think about my own series, I can’t help but draw on Jordan’s ability to weave a sprawling tapestry of characters and conflicts without losing the emotional core. And while my world-building might not involve as many wheel metaphors (yet), you’d better believe I’m aiming for that same level of depth and care.

The Phantom by Susan Kay

If you’ve never heard of The Phantom by Susan Kay, allow me to introduce you to the most hauntingly beautiful book you didn’t know you needed. This retelling of The Phantom of the Opera dives deeper into the Phantom’s life and psyche than I thought possible. And when I say it broke my heart, I mean I’m still piecing it back together years later.

What sets this novel apart is how it turns an infamous “villain” into an achingly relatable (if wildly flawed) protagonist. You see the man behind the mask, the pain behind the terror, and it makes every note of his story resonate with this gut-punch of empathy. Susan Kay brilliantly balances the beauty and monstrosity of Erik’s character, reminding readers that people are rarely just one thing.

For me, The Phantom was a masterclass in emotional storytelling. Kay doesn’t just scratch the surface; she digs deep into the raw humanity of her characters and wrings every drop of feeling out of their interactions. It’s intimate and immersive, a constant reminder that even in a fantastical setting, it’s the depth of a character’s struggle that makes us care.

This book instilled in me a love for flawed, tragic characters who force you to think about their motives long after you’ve turned the final page. It’s the kind of story that lingers in your soul, whispering its truths. And as I develop my own series, I know I’ll be carrying a piece of Erik’s bittersweet story with me, crafting characters who are twice as human for their imperfections.

A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J. Maas

Okay, admit it. If you’re a female fantasy fan, there’s a solid chance A Court of Thorns and Roses (lovingly known as ACOTAR) has completely taken over at least one of your group chats, your bookshelf, or, in my case, your brain. Sarah J. Maas has this way of merging sweeping romance with high-stakes fantasy that feels like a rollercoaster ride you never want to get off.

From the moment Feyre ventures into Prythian, I was hooked. You’ve got courts ruled by power-hungry High Lords, devastatingly lush settings, and romance that goes from “I don’t trust you” to “I’ll shatter the world for you” real quick. It’s utterly addictive, and I can’t tell you how much this series has influenced my own writing. Maas’s ability to blur the lines between light and dark, villainous and heroic, is something I deeply admire. Her characters are layered in the best possible way. Feyre? Relatable in her struggles. Rhysand? Emotional support High Lord (and everyone’s book crush, obviously).

For me, ACOTAR was a lesson in balance. It showed me how to blend epic battles and steamy romance without losing sight of the stakes. It’s the kind of series that hits you in the feels one moment and leaves your jaw on the floor the next. I want my own readers to be just as invested in the love stories as they are in the world-ending conflicts, and this series gave me the perfect blueprint for making that magic happen.

One Dark Window by Rachel Gillig

If One Dark Window had a personality, it’d be that mysterious and broody stranger lurking in the corner of a dark, candlelit room—but you’re dying to talk to them anyway. Rachel Gillig takes gothic vibes, sprinkles in some eerie magic, and coats it all in a rich, poetically dark atmosphere that had me turning pages late into the night (and occasionally side-eyeing shadows in my room).

Elspeth Spindle, the book’s protagonist, is as complex as it gets. Her struggles with an ancient spirit whispering in her mind are haunting, but they’re also deeply human in a way I couldn’t get out of my head. Gillig builds her world with this slow-burning dread that seeps into every word, making even the quiet moments feel electric.

What impacted me most about One Dark Window is how masterfully it blends dark magic with quiet introspection. Gillig’s writing is lush and lyrical, layering tension and mystery until you’re fully wrapped up in her world. The way she uses the magical system as both a strength and a curse? Chef’s kiss.

This book nudged me to think about the atmosphere in my own series. It reminded me that magic doesn’t always need to dazzle; sometimes, it’s the quiet, dangerous kind that leaves a mark. And while my world might not lean quite as gothic (this time around), I’ll definitely be channeling Gillig’s knack for creating an aura of spine-tingling mystery.

Both ACOTAR and One Dark Window stand as proof that fantasy is just as much about emotions and atmosphere as it is about quests and battles. They’ve inspired me to keep weaving beauty into the shadows of my storytelling, crafting tales that captivate and linger long after the final page.

The Influence of Dungeons & Dragons

Okay, so this isn’t a novel, but honestly? Dungeons & Dragons has been one of the most formative fantasy experiences of my life, hands down. If you’ve never experienced the absolute chaos of trying to outsmart a dungeon full of traps while your party debates whether an enchanted chest is “probably fine,” oh man, you’re missing out. But for me, it was more than just rolling dice and looting treasures. It became a whole new way to fall in love with fantasy.

A huge reason for that? My husband. He’s the mastermind behind these ridiculously intricate, long-running campaigns that become full-blown sagas. I’m not talking a few weekly sessions and a boss fight, either. I’m talking epic, sprawling storylines that last literal years. These campaigns aren’t just adventures; they’re practically serialized novels, each arc shedding layers of character development and plot twists that rival anything you’d find in a bookshelf. And the characters! The detail and depth he puts into the NPCs alone gave me whiplash. (Seriously, “throwaway” NPCs often had a backstory so impactful that I was emotionally compromised.)

But the part that really got me? The connection I felt with my own characters. When you pour so much energy into building someone, from their backstory to their quirks, and then watch them grow through every skirmish, challenge, and disastrous decision (looking at you, rogue with questionable priorities), you can’t help but fall completely in love with them. Maybe I fell in love too much (if the occasional tantrum over my beloved characters impending doom is any indication). But hey, when you think your fighter is going down after years of character development, there is feeling of panic and loss that just wrecks you.

The best part of these epic-style campaigns, though, was the realization that the adventure isn’t always the star of the show. Don’t get me wrong—I love a good dungeon crawl or nerve-wracking combat as much as the next gal, but my husband’s storytelling taught me that character development can (and in many cases SHOULD) be the heart of fantasy. When the stakes are deeply personal, when your character’s choices ripple across the fabric of the story, that’s when the game (or story) becomes magical. It’s not just about defeating the enemy; it’s about the people standing next to you as you do it, the bonds you’ve forged in the process.

What I love most is how playing D&D this way shifted my entire perspective on storytelling. It helped me focus on the why behind every character’s actions, exploring motives and struggles in a way that felt raw and real. It made me realize how much richer a story can be when the characters steer it, flaws and all, rather than just reacting to the plot.

Additionally it taught me patience. I'm talking letting things unfold over really long periods of time. This tabletop mindset has carried over into my writing in a big way. I want my stories to feel as alive and emotionally charged as one of our late-night sessions, with twists, turns, and characters who burrow into your heart.

It might not be the way everyone plays D&D, but for me? It's everything! Those sessions gave me a fresh way to see fantasy, and honestly, a huge dose of inspiration for the series I’m writing now. If I can recreate even a sliver of the joy, heartbreak, and thrill I felt during those campaigns in my books, I’ll consider it a victory worth celebrating (hopefully with fewer tantrums this time).

Wrapping It Up

And there you have it, my not-a-best-books-list-but-so-much-more list of the fantasy stories (and a certain game) that turned my brain into a dragon-infested, magic-slinging, intrigue-obsessed playground.

Each one shaped me in ways I didn’t fully realize until I sat down to write this—inspiring the way I think about characters, worlds, and those unforgettable moments that make you gasp, cry, or throw the book (lovingly, of course).

If you’ve made it this far, first of all, thank you. Sharing this list felt a bit like opening up a treasure chest of all the things that make me me. Each book (or D&D session) left its mark, whether it was teaching me about political intrigue (A Song of Ice and Fire), the aching beauty of flawed characters (The Phantom), or just how much fun it is to take a swing at writing romance (looking at you, ACOTAR). They weren’t just stories; they were blueprints. Roadmaps. And, most importantly, reminders of why I fell in love with fantasy in the first place.

As I work on my debut fantasy novel (and, you know, the bazillion sequels I’ve already started dreaming about), I hope to bring even a fraction of that same magic to my own readers. I want to create worlds that feel alive, characters who’ll break your heart (in a good way!), and moments that stick with you long after the last page.

But enough about me—I’d love to hear from you! What stories, books, or even legendary D&D campaigns have shaped your love of fantasy? Was there a character you just couldn’t get over or a plot twist that left your jaw on the floor? Let’s chat about the stories that fundamentally rewired our brains for magic.

And if you're not on my newsletter (that is so much more than a newsletter), you should toss in your email address and follow along on this journey. The magic is just beginning. See you there.

Until then, keep adventuring, keep reading, and maybe even roll for initiative every now and then. The best stories, after all, are just waiting to be discovered.