I don’t have nearly the patience for world building that I used to. Back when I was a kid I wanted my fiction to be a transcendental experience. I wanted fantasy worlds that had nothing in common with the real one.
After nine and a half books of the Wheel of Time I don’t think I’ll ever read about another fake planet populated with the same elf-like beings on one side, orc-like beings on the other and humans in the middle.
I don’t know if this is because I’ve become more satisfied with the real world and my place in it or if I’ve become less satisfied with attempts at fictional world building. So much of it is just more of the same-old painted over with funny words.