I love apples. If I were to make a list of my favourite fruit, I reckon apples would be pretty high up on the list. Maybe not right at the top. I’m not sure I could place apples above raspberries, or especially pomegranates (yum – I can’t get enough of pomegranates at the moment, but I suspect that’s a completely different post).

Mind you, it’s not just any apples. When it comes to apples, I’m extremely fussy. As far as I’m concerned, there’s only one apple that’s worth my while. It’s not Fujis are Pink Ladies. It’s definitely not Golden Delicious (yuch!). It’s not even Jonathans. I’ll give you a clue. It’s got to be green…

That’s right, it’s the good old Granny Smith. When I eat an apple, it’s got to be big and green, and it’s got to have more than a little tartness (if I screw up my face on the first bite, that’s a good thing). Maybe it’s even a little patriotism, because Granny Smiths were developed here in Australia. Whatever it is, there’s nothing better than sinking your teeth into a Granny. It may not be true that an apple a day keeps the doctor away but it sure does make me a happy boy.

I suppose some people may not agree with my fussiness when it comes to apple consumption. They may suggest that I’m discriminating against other apples, maybe even being “appleist”. I’m afraid I have no answer for that – guilty as charged. I guess I can justify it.

Ultimately, I’m not just fussy about apples. I’m fussy about pretty much everything. What I eat. What I watch on television. What sports I like to play. I’m fussy about everything I do. And this is where, I can actually lead this post back to the topic in the title.

I’m fussy about stories. I’m fussy about the stories I like to read. I won’t just read anything. It has to engage me in a certain way. I’m not sure I can even define how. It has to be something out of the box: something that can make me see things I’ve never seen before, or view the world in a different way.

And just as I won’t just read anything, I won’t just write anything either. I’m ultra-fussy about the stories I write. Every day, ideas are constantly circling around in my head, but very few make the cut. Most get chopped down, straight away.

So, there you have it. I’m fussy about apples and I’m also fussy about stories. Which, in a funny kind of way means that stories are just like apples. At least I think they are.