Dear Arvel,
No doubt you’re wondering why you don’t exist (insomuch as any fictional character can be said to exist). After all, you were a character in The Fey Man for many years before I wiped you from the page. Only me, and a handful of beta readers who found your name in a dialogue tag I missed, know you were ever there. And what did you do to deserve this fate? Not very much at all.
Don’t mistake me, Arvel, this wasn’t personal. I actually quite liked you. As the youngest of the Eastern elfs you had a naive air to you that humanised the elfs a little. You also didn’t really know why Neirin had brought you on his quest, and your ignorant trust in your master was quite sweet. But, initially, you had only one purpose: to die.
That meant you had nothing else to do, and I forgot you for pages at a time. So I gave you more to do. Being made a sailor by trade gave you a bigger role in Neirin’s plans and made you vital to his quest. But events in The Fey Man meant you never got to demonstrate that role. So, again, I forgot about you. Nice as you were, you were relegated to hanging around in the background.
I want you to know it wasn’t an easy decision to cut you from the novel. Because I liked you as a person, I kept convincing myself that you served a purpose. I thought you added depth to the world of The Fey Man, a further dimension to the story. I thought if I could just get one thing right, find one small tweak, that it would solve the problem of you.
But ultimately I knew you added only ambience, like mood lighting. I don’t mean to be harsh, Arvel, but you were dead weight. You were dragging the novel down, another character for the reader to remember with no reason for being there. You had to go.
Being a writer is a strange occupation; who else mourns a person who never existed? Sometimes I wonder if you might come back in some way. But I think you’ve developed too much of your own baggage. And I’m afraid your best qualities were given to other characters. Brega inherited your familial shame from the poor death of an ancestor. Judge Hullworth inherited some of your naivety. And someone else died (sorry, Arvel, even you’ll have to read The Fey Man to find out who).
So I’m afraid you’ll have to make do with almost existing, Arvel. At least your sacrifice made The Fey Man a better novel so, for that, you will always have my gratitude.
Yours,
James
Armies march, dragons scorch the skies, and those who yet remain free hatch a desperate plan. They place their faith in the one man they shouldn’t: Thomas Rymour. He may be the prophet who cannot lie, but Tom only cares about finding the hidden realm of Faerie.
Elfs, dwarfs, Faerie creatures, dragons, magic, and quests. You’ll find it all in The Fey Man, the first book in the Realm Rift Saga.
Will Tom satisfy his compulsion? Can he break free and help save the world? Or do the creatures of Faerie have their own plans?
“The Fey Man immerses the reader in a compellingly conceived alternative realm created with a powerful sense of character and place.” – Brian Sibley, writer of The Lord of the Rings BBC Radio Drama
★★★★★ “This is one of the best epic fantasy books that I have read.”
★★★★ “As a study of a man in the throes of addiction, or maybe withdrawal…[Thomas Rymour] was particularly well drawn.”
★★★★★ “I smashed through this quickly as it's a real page turner and enjoyed it thoroughly. The setting is familiar enough that entering it is enjoyable and welcoming and at the same time novel enough that you care about the characters and the plot.”
