The path that eventually led to The Heirs of Lydin was a long one.
I’ve always written – even from a young age, and the seeds that would eventually grow into this work were planted very early on. I was seven or thereabouts, and I wrote a rather rambling story call “The Elf’s Ring”.
I’d always loved fantasy – and had been exposed to all the classics as a child – Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, Lloyd Alexander, along with various myths and legends – Greek and Roman, Norse and Celtic.
“The Elf’s Ring” was a rather rambling tale of an elf coming into possession of a magic ring – not dissimilar to Bilbo’s story from the hobbit – though my antagonist tangled with various creatures and characters from mythology, including a fire-breathing chimera. The elf didn’t even get a name until halfway through the story – Talan.
Although the original story is long since gone (thankfully), its memory lived on, including being rewritten several times as I got older. Alert readers of The Heirs of Lydin might even spot a familiar name.
Years later I began what would eventually become The Heirs of Lydin. I think I was in my late teens. I churned out a few chapters with no thought of where it was headed until I got stuck, and then shelved it. It would stay in that state, almost in stasis, until one day I decided (after heavy encouragement from my future wife) that for once, just once, I would finish the darn thing. And this time I would actually plan and plot it out. It was finished in the space of two or so years, and then the editing took longer – as my time was put to more productive tasks (marriage, two children, work).
Then I discovered something. It was far, far too long. Almost two hundred thousand words. So rather than one book, it became two – and soon three, but more on that in my next post.