So, when I met her, my wife was not a fantasy fan. She literally did not know the conventions of the genre. So often times, especially early on in my writing process, she couldn’t make heads or tails of what I was doing. What is this about? Where is this city supposed to be? Why do you have centuries of fake history? Why don’t you write something like One Hundred Years of Solitude?
Actually, as strange as that last one was, magical realism did prove to be the gateway toward some common ground. She understood the rules of that genre, and through that I could show her how fantasy worked.
OK, there was also Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings as huge worldwide phenomenons. That helped, too.
That isn’t to say she doesn’t read my work. She definitely does. But let’s be real: she mostly does because it’s mine. She isn’t seeking out the rest of the genre.
That said, she’s more of a fan of short stories, and Jump the Black is probably her favorite. She does nudge me, gently, to create a novel-length version of that story.
I think it’s there. I haven’t found it all yet, but the novel length version exists. It’ll come. I’ve got time. And I’ve got someone to read it when it’s done.