Tom Stacey, Author EXILE, Book#1 Bloodforge Series |
Reviewers
describe Tom Stacey’s EXILE, #1 of
the Bloodforge Series, as “the very definition of epic fantasy” with "insanely vivid characters” and the feel of “one of the richer, more complex
computer games.” Stacey defines an epic fantasy as a
story whose characters “deal with themes beyond that of individuals.” He claims that his characters are "flawed." And he writes strictly "to tell a good story."
When
he’ s not writing, Stacey is a video producer in London. He’s working on the
second book in the Bloodforce Series which he plans to finish by the end of
2016. He’s also writing a short story/novella and another novel. For fun, he
likes to read, go to the movies, and support his favorite UK soccer team.
Don’t
miss his excerpt from EXILE following the interview.
Q: EXILE has
been described by a reviewer as “the very definition of epic
fantasy.” How would you define an epic fantasy? Do you agree that EXILE is an
epic fantasy? Why or why not?
Tom Stacey: I think an epic fantasy is something
that deals with themes beyond that of individuals. That is not to say that it
can’t tell the story from the perspective of individuals, but each has to be a
character involved in grand themes, in events that effect nations and entire
peoples. In that respect, I do agree that EXILE is an epic fantasy. It tells the story of an invasion that turns the known
world on its head, but it tells it from the viewpoints of a few people. Some
are directly involved, some merely on the periphery.
Q: The setting for EXILE was described as “majestically
sweeping landscape. To create the world for EXILE, how did you make it
“majestically sweeping?” Did you follow any world-building rules?
Tom Stacey: I wouldn’t say I followed any rules.
I don’t really believe in rules when it comes to writing, short of the rules of
language. I just try to be as descriptive as possible without being indulgent,
and try to make things visceral and real. I want my readers to feel like they
can touch the weathered stone of a ruined watchtower, smell the damp grass on
the coastal plains, feel the bite of the wind on the Dalvossi Steppe. Reading
fiction is all about escapism and I hope I have delivered that.
Q: How relevant is credibility for
readers of fantasy? How do you create a believable story? What will annoy a
fantasy reader and make them stop reading a story?
Tom Stacey: I think fantasy is a bit of a
saturated genre. I know from being a fantasy fan myself that clichés annoy me.
I am also not a fan of characters that are seemingly indestructible or godlike.
The fantasy I like needs to be grounded in reality, even if it does have
elements of magic. I think this is why something like Game of Thrones has seen such success – it never strays from
feeling like a story of Medieval Europe, despite the more typical fantasy
elements. I hope I replicated that sense of authenticity, even a little bit.
Q: Your characters are described as
“solid and carry the story with power.” Are your characters perfect or do they
have flaws? What makes powerful characters that will engage a reader’s
interest?
Tom Stacey: I would say my characters are
completely flawed. Perfect characters are boring, because nobody is perfect in
the real world. Who can relate to a flawless human being? Loster is a coward
(or at least he thinks he is), Beccorban has committed atrocious acts of
violence and brutality, Riella is full of shame for the way she made a living.
All of my characters have colored pasts that influence their decisions and that’s
why I love to write them.
Q: How important is the concept of
heroes vs villains in EXILE? How would you define a hero? Do you need a villain
to have a hero? How do you create an effective villain?
Tom Stacey: It’s one of my favorite themes in any
book. We all love a good villain and I am no different. In terms of EXILE heroes vs villains probably takes
a back seat to good vs evil, but then a lot of the battles in EXILE are internal ones. Nevertheless my
heroes protect the weak, and have their own moral code. Whether that aligns
with everyone else’s idea of good is a different conversation, but the point is
that my heroes mean well. For the villains however, I feel that fear is an
important factor, as well as power. Villains need to have a hold over the
heroes, whether it is strength, or intelligence, or support. The villains in Exile have that in abundance.
Q: Did you write EXILE purely for
entertainment? And/or did you embed any messages for your readers?
Tom Stacey: In short, yes and then no. I wrote Exile to tell a good story, like
something you might hear around a campfire. I don’t think there are any
hard-coded messages in the book, but I have had a lot of people interpret
things in different ways. I find it really flattering that people read into my
work and find things I never consciously intended. Ultimately Exile is a story about dealing with
guilt and moving on, nothing more.
Q: How did you conceive of the story for EXILE? What gave you
the idea?
Tom Stacey: I wrote several short stories and
then realized that they could all potentially exist in the same world. I
bridged them together and then the story sort of grew a life of its own and
went from there. The part of the story that speaks to me the strongest is the
ending, which is already in my head, but does not feature in EXILE. At the moment, I don’t think I
will get to said ending in anything less than three books.
Q: What makes EXILE “absorbing, dynamic, and gripping”? How do
you create suspense and entice readers to turn the page?
Tom Stacey: I try to make every chapter end with
the promise of more to follow. Also, although I like to be descriptive,
sometimes I find that things are more effective if you hold information back
from the reader and keep them guessing. Don’t talk of a monster, talk of a
shadow, don’t show a demon entering the room, just make things colder, snuff
out a few candles. In general, suggestion is much more suspenseful and
ultimately rewarding.
Q: What’s next? Since this is the
first of a series when can we expect the next one?
Tom Stacey: I am aiming to finish the second in
the Bloodforge Series by the end of
the year, work/life balance permitting. Otherwise I am writing a short
story/novella called Tomb about
archaeologists uncovering something sinister, and a standalone novel called Flotsam about a man who gets stuck on an
island by himself.
Q: Tell us about Tom Stacey. What do
you like to do when you’re not writing?
Tom Stacey: I’m not all that interesting really!
I’m a video producer in London, but when I’m not working or writing, I’m
reading, going to the movies, or supporting my beloved West Ham (a soccer team
in the UK).
About Tom Stacey by Tom Stacey
“I am from the
wild lands of Essex, and have been all my life.
“I've always
been a student of history. My first history teacher at secondary school taught
me that there are only five letters in the word history that matter: 'story.'
Ever since then I've been hooked.
“I'm somebody
who loves to read. I love Bernard Cornwell's earlier works like the first Sharpe
novels and the Warlord Chronicles. I've experienced the can't-put-down quality
of Wilbur Smith's Courtney novels. I'm a big Conn Iggulden fan (Emperor and
Conqueror series) and love A Song of Ice and Fire - who doesn't?
“Arguably my
favorite author is the late David Gemmell. His simple historical fantasies
really struck a chord with me when I was younger, and encouraged me to write my
own stories.
“I like
stories about heroes, or things that make you scared to turn the page, stories
that leave you feeling empty or that you've left friends behind in the
epilogue. A writer is someone who can reach out from a page of prose and grab
your attention and not let go until your heart is beating faster or aching with
loss.
“If my own
stories can make even one person feel something like that then I will consider
myself a success. If they don't, I'm going to keep writing them anyway, so you
might as well read one of them!”
About EXILE
A novel of the
Bloodforge
A
gripping tale of heroism and the darkness within
On the fringes of the Verian Empire, two small boys stumble upon a strange altar, buried in the heart of a mountain. There they awaken a horror unseen for generations, that will descend upon the realm of men while it is at its weakest. For Veria is a nation at war with itself, only recently recovered from a bloody rebellion, and the time of heroes has passed. The empire is in a state of chaos, and while its ruler, the Empron Illis, rids the land of his remaining enemies, unseen forces are gathering at the borders. However all eyes are turned inwards. The Empron is not a well man, and there are whispers among the common folk that his advisors are spies; demons that only wear the flesh of men.
Yet there is hope...
In the distant mountains, a forester who has buried his past learns that he has not been forgotten, and that his crimes have sought him out at last. But he is no simple woodsman. He is Beccorban the Helhammer, Scourge, Burner and the Death of Nations, and his fury is a terrible thing.
For when all the heroes are gone, Veria will turn to those it has forgotten, before all is lost.
Excerpt
Kiren leant in close to Huril, shielding himself from the biting wind.
It seemed to be a living thing, screaming in his ears as its icy fingers
searched for every gap and crevice. After burning down the small hut, Barin
had ordered the men to huddle close. Only a few of the older men — about three
of them — had brought furs. The rest sat frozen and miserable, every bit of
exposed skin wrapped in whatever they could find. The Guide had disappeared an
hour before, hissing something in Barin’s ear and then melting into the bushes
like a shadow. It felt as if a weight had been lifted off of Kiren’s shoulders,
but he did not know why.
Dreng returned from his scout with a brace of winter hares. Whilst the
others ransacked the hut, the wiry tracker skinned and prepared his catch,
storing the still warm meat in his pack and scraping the skins clean. He sat
now opposite Kiren with the white furs wrapped around his hands, each pelt
still tinged pink with gore. At any other time Kiren's stomach would have
lurched at the thought of touching the oily, recently dead flesh, but now he
glared at Dreng with jealous eyes as his own hands threatened to turn blue.
These few days in the mountains had been miserable. Now it seemed that
they would all freeze to death, their mission a failure. They had been outfoxed
by one old man who was probably somewhere warm and dry with a full belly. If
this weather continued he would return home to eight living statues in
compensation for the loss of his dwelling.
Barin stood away from the group, leaning against a tree with his cloak
wrapped around him. Kiren wasn't sure whether the Lommocel was dead or not. It
was hard to look in any one place for longer than a moment yet he wasn’t about
to get up and check. The snow was flying sideways and stung his cheeks with its
force. Kiren wanted to close his eyes but every time he did so he felt
incredibly tired. Before the storm struck, Barin had given them a short speech
about staying awake. To fall asleep in this cold was death, he had said, and he
tasked every man with keeping his neighbour alert. Nevertheless, it was hard to
keep the mind active when all there was to do was sit and wait. Kiren turned
his head and looked at the men around him. All were so covered in snow that
their crimson armour was frozen and powdered white. In fact it was hard to tell
them apart.
“You still with me, boy?” Huril's gruff voice penetrated the fog of
Kiren's thoughts.
“Still here,” he said and Huril grunted in response. Kiren had never
been this close to the old soldier. He smelt of tobacco and sweat. Strangely he
found that comforting. It reminded him of a tavern; the smell of woodsmoke,
cooking grease and packed humanity. Somewhere warm.
He looked at the men around him one by one. Next to Huril there was
Millar, the farmer's son turned recruit. Next to him sat Sarif Morn and then
Shume and Dreng. Next to him was Grosh... was that Grosh? Yes, it must have
been. Then... Shume. Kiren shook his head. He must have counted wrong. There was
no mistaking that the figure to his left was Shume. He had been staring at the
back and side of his face all day and knew every inch of that jowly expanse,
even huddled as it was into a cloak. Who was the other figure, then? The Guide?
No, he was far too broad to be the Guide. Besides, the Guide had left an hour
ago. He had to have counted wrong.
Kiren slowly turned his head and stared at the large man between Sarif
Morn and Dreng. He was one of the few who had brought furs, although they were
caked in frost and snow. He sat hunkered down, staring at the ground, his hands
hidden inside the folds of… what was that? A bearskin? Kiren carefully counted
the party in his head. Barin, Morn, Dreng... Huril, Grosh, Millar, himself and
Shume. Eight men.
But there were nine in this clearing.
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