Most of my college years were spent trying to be a “real” fiction writer. That is, writing crappy short stories and outlining (okay, thinking about) crappy novels in the real world, with real problems, and real issues. While I would say it was wasted time, I don’t think that’s the case  entirely. I mean, all writers have to grow, right? I was just embarrassed to love SF/F so much; I believed that it was, on some level, childish and certainly not a legitimate endeavour. Well, thankfully I came to my senses after I got my BA. But even before that, I couldn’t shake the fantasy bug entirely. Rifling through my…