My Top 10 Fantasy Books That Shaped My Writing

“You are what you read. And if that’s true, I’m at least 40% dragons, 30% tragic magic boys, and the rest… morally grey with a hint of sass.”

When people ask me how I learned to write fantasy, I don’t usually rattle off degrees or classes. I tell them the truth: I read. A lot. And the books I devoured shaped not just my taste, but my voice, my themes, and the kind of stories I want to tell.

So here they are. The top 10 fantasy books that cracked open my imagination and whispered, “Hey. You could do this too.”

1. A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J. Maas

This book lit the romantasy fire in me. I learned how to build romantic tension, how to explore trauma and recovery with nuance, and how to make a love interest unforgettable. Say what you want about the tropes — Maas knows how to hit the emotional gut punch.

Also, wingspan. Just saying.

But more than that, it taught me that stories can be sexy and serious. That romance doesn’t have to be fluff — it can be healing, it can be messy, and it can show us how to grow. I read this at a time when I was rebuilding myself too, and it showed me that writing about love doesn’t make you any less of a serious writer. It makes you human.

2. The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss

This one taught me the rhythm of language. The poetry of prose. The way a sentence can sing. It also showed me that a fantasy book can be quiet, beautiful, and intimate while still being epic.

Bonus: Kvothe’s unreliable narration gave me a deep appreciation for layered character storytelling.

I read it slowly, like sipping wine I couldn’t afford. And I remember thinking, “I want to make words do this.” The intimacy of it all — the music, the magic, the heartbreak — it showed me that a story doesn’t need explosions to be powerful. It just needs honesty.

3. The NeverEnding Story by Michael Ende

This was the book that first taught me about stories within stories. I remember being captivated by the idea that a reader could literally change the story by believing in it. It blew my young, fantasy-loving mind.

It shaped how I think about worldbuilding as something deeply emotional and personal. And it whispered that the real magic isn’t in the spells — it’s in the act of storytelling itself.

I remember clutching this book in bed, thinking that maybe — just maybe — writing could change more than just the plot. It could change people. I think that’s when I first started wanting to be the storyteller, not just the reader.

4. The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis

This series was my first taste of portal fantasy. It taught me that magic doesn’t have to be far away — it can be just beyond the wardrobe. Narnia introduced me to the power of allegory, of childlike wonder, and the beauty of deep moral undercurrents in a fantastical world.

It showed me that fantasy can feel both sacred and whimsical, and that you can craft worlds that stay with readers long after they close the book.

When I write now, I still think about those little details — the lamp post, the Turkish delight, the talking animals — and how they made the world feel real. Narnia is why I care about setting. It’s why I believe fantasy can have heart.

5. Daughter of Smoke and Bone by Laini Taylor

The worldbuilding. The mythology. The writing. I remember reading this and thinking, “Oh. Fantasy can be this beautiful?”

It showed me that you can have lyrical prose and a compelling plot. It taught me to lean into the weird. To make magic feel ancient, tragic, and raw.

Laini Taylor’s use of language made me obsessed with sentence structure. I underlined phrases just because they were pretty. And her characters? They’re why I now believe fantasy doesn’t have to sacrifice nuance to be magical. It can be both.

6. From Blood and Ash by Jennifer L. Armentrout

Look. Did I dog-ear pages because of the spice? Yes. But this book also reminded me that pacing matters. The slow burn, the reveals, the snarky banter? It taught me how to unfold a story.

Also, it gave me permission to mix action, romance, and danger without apology.

This one came to me at a point where I needed to enjoy reading again. It’s fun, chaotic, tropey — and it owns it. That confidence is something I try to bring into my own writing. To stop apologising for what I love.

7. The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern

Mood. Atmosphere. Setting as character. This book taught me how to build a world that feels like a dream you don’t want to wake up from.

It doesn’t rush. It lingers. And it taught me the power of slowing down to savour the magic.

Every time I revisit this book, I’m reminded that magic doesn’t always have to be loud. It can be in the details, the timing, the little enchantments we don’t even notice. Writing fantasy isn’t just about plot twists — it’s about vibes.

8. An Ember in the Ashes by Sabaa Tahir

If you want a masterclass in high stakes and relentless plotting, this is it. This book taught me to never let the tension drop — to keep the emotional screws turning.

It also showed me how to write characters who break and bend and come back stronger. Or not.

Tahir taught me that fantasy can hurt — in the best way. Her world is brutal, and yet so emotionally resonant. I found myself gasping, aching, highlighting entire paragraphs. That’s the kind of emotional investment I want to give my readers.

9. Throne of Glass by Sarah J. Maas

Yes, she’s on the list twice. And yes, this series taught me the joy of character evolution over time. Watching Celaena morph into Aelin over multiple books showed me how to write long-form character arcs that hit like a sucker punch.

Also, sword-wielding women with emotional damage? Sign me up.

I didn’t love her at first — and that’s the point. She grew on me, changed, stumbled, and made bad choices. And I loved her for it. That’s real character growth, and it gave me permission to write women who are messy and powerful and so, so flawed.

10. The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien

A classic. My gateway drug. It’s the book that first made me realise that fantasy could be fun. That it could be full of food and songs and home and heart.

It taught me that even the smallest characters can change the course of a world.

I still remember the wonder I felt reading about hobbit holes and dwarves and a dragon sleeping under a mountain. The whimsy and warmth of Tolkien’s world reminded me that high fantasy doesn’t have to be grimdark to be epic. It can be cosy, too.

Final Thoughts

These books didn’t just entertain me. They rewired my brain. They whispered lessons about rhythm and romance, tension and tenderness, worldbuilding and word choice. They made me the writer I am today — and the reader I never want to stop being.

If you’re trying to figure out what kind of fantasy you want to write, go back to the stories that first made you feel something. The ones that cracked open your chest and settled inside.

That’s where the magic lives.