Writing The Veil of Kings and Gods: Where the Story Began

/ Author Simon Phillips / Leave a comment

There was no single spark. The story came slowly, like a breath remembered from long ago, or a half-formed thought whispered through stone. A world shaped by old powers. A realm where kings fear magic, and magicians serve at the edge of thrones.

In the beginning, there was only a boy. He worked the castle kitchens in Bremyra, sweeping floors and scrubbing pans beneath the gaze of guards who barely noticed him. One day, something stirred. It broke through him, unseen, instinctive, and changed the course of his life. The Order of Magicians arrived, and the boy was taken.

He did not shine. While others rose through the ranks with ease, he struggled. There were no accolades, no whispered praises in candlelit halls. His tutors pushed him hard, and he endured. The hours were long. The silence longer. He studied while others excelled, remembered spells long after others had passed their trials.

In time, he left the Academy. There were no citadels calling his name. No grand appointments. His master in the Council intervened, and so he returned, back to the same castle where he once carried bread and carved meat. This time, he came as Advisor. The halls had changed. The faces had not.

That was where the story found its voice.

The world around him unfolded slowly. Whispered tensions in the council chamber. Glances that carried more weight than words. A kingdom balanced on memory and suspicion. Within those stone walls, something deeper began to stir, an echo, perhaps, or a remnant of something long buried.

As I wrote, I did not seek grand battles or sweeping prophecy. I sought something quieter. A man who carried more than others saw. A world that remembered what others had forgotten. Magic that did not burn with spectacle, but pulsed through the earth like a second heartbeat.

The Veil, once unseen, began to lift.

What lies beyond that veil remains hidden, for now. This story, like the world it inhabits, is still becoming. Yet its heart remains the same: a kitchen boy, a crown too close, and a voice that waits beneath the silence.

Why I’m Using AI-Generated Shorts to Grow My YouTube Channel

/ Author Simon Phillips / Leave a comment

There’s a quiet revolution happening behind the scenes of my creative work, one I never thought I’d be part of. It’s powered by AI, and no, it’s not replacing my stories. It’s helping me bring them to life in ways I couldn’t have managed alone.

Like many indie authors, I wear too many hats. I write late at night. I design lore in the gaps between work and family. I film when I can. And while my passion for storytelling runs deep, time is always the enemy. That’s why I’ve started using AI-generated YouTube Shorts to support my channel, not to flood it with junk, but to expand the edges of my creativity.

These Shorts Are Still Me

The scripts are written in my voice. The ideas are mine. The worlds, fantasy and sci-fi alike, are entirely my own. What AI gives me is speed. A way to turn a scene I wrote, a bit of lore, or a behind-the-scenes moment into a 30-second story that lives online, without spending three hours editing.

And that matters, because these Shorts aren’t filler. They’re intentional fragments of my world, each one crafted to give readers and viewers a glimpse into the universes I’m building.

It’s an Experiment in Creativity

I’m not doing this to cheat the system. I’m doing it to see how far I can stretch what it means to be an author in the modern world. To test if AI tools can act not as shortcuts, but as creative amplifiers. Could they help me reach new readers? Could they let me express my lore through new media? Could they keep the fire burning on days I’m too tired to speak into a camera?

So far, the answer feels like yes.

This Channel Will Stay Focused

Let me be clear: I’m not turning my YouTube into a spam machine. Every AI-generated Short I post will stay rooted in the themes of this channel: fantasy lore, writing life, story updates, and creative experiments.

Some Shorts will feature book updates. Others will bring a map to life. A few might explore the deeper questions inside my world, things like prophecy, time, or gods. All of it ties back to the core: my books, my stories, and the journey I’m inviting you to follow.

Join the Experiment

This is all new, and honestly, a little strange. But if you’re curious, about the writing, the stories, or the way AI might shape the future of art, stick around. Subscribe. Share your thoughts. Watch how this channel grows.

Because I’m not just telling a story. I’m learning how to build it in public, and you’re part of that process now.

Is The Great Hunt Better Than The Eye of the World?

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Three years ago, I sat down in front of a camera, unsure of my lighting, unsure of my delivery, but certain of one thing: I needed to talk about The Great Hunt.

I had just finished re-reading it after a long time away from the series, and something about it wouldn’t let go. Not just the pace, the characters, or the sprawling world that Robert Jordan begins to fully stretch open in this second volume, but the feeling that, finally, the Wheel had begun to turn with purpose.

That’s what I tried to capture in that video.
And even now, years later, I still wonder:

Is it the better book?

The Eye of the World : The Necessary Spark

The first book is the beginning of everything, of course it matters.
It introduces Rand, Mat, Perrin. It gives us Emond’s Field, the mysterious Moiraine, the first flight from the Shadow.
But The Eye of the World is also cautious. It mirrors Tolkien in many ways. It plays safe to establish the unfamiliar.

It’s not until The Great Hunt that Jordan stops whispering and starts shouting.

The Great Hunt: The True Opening of the Wheel

This is where the chase begins.
The Horn of Valere. The portal worlds. Selene.
It’s faster, stranger, and far more ambitious. The world suddenly expands, not just in geography but in consequence.

And Rand… Rand begins to become someone you can’t ignore.

When I rewatch that video (yes, it’s still up), I see a younger version of myself trying to articulate this exact turning point. How The Great Hunt didn’t just build on the first, it transformed it.

The Verdict?

If you’re asking me now?
Yes, The Great Hunt is the better book.

But The Eye of the World is the better beginning.

And maybe you need both, the spark and the storm,for the Wheel to turn the way it should.

🎥 Watch the Original Video
If you’d like to see where my mind was back then (lighting quirks and all), the original video is still live on my YouTube channel.

What do you think?
Does The Great Hunt outshine its predecessor or is the charm of The Eye of the World too powerful to beat?

Let me know in the comments, and if you enjoy this kind of reflection, subscribe to the blog. I’ll be revisiting more classic fantasy as I build my own.

When the Muse Doesn’t Show Up

/ Author Simon Phillips / Leave a comment

There are days when the words come easily. They arrive like old friends, familiar, unannounced, and warmly welcome. You sit down with your tea, open the manuscript, and something clicks. The sentences lean into each other. The story breathes.

And then there are the other days.

You know the ones. Where every sentence feels like it was dragged from the mud. Where the cursor blinks like a silent metronome, keeping time with your growing doubt. When the characters stop speaking. When the world you’ve built, so vivid yesterday, fades like mist at first light.

We talk a lot about inspiration in this line of work. The muse. The spark. The rush of a new idea. But we don’t often talk about what it means to write without any of that. To write when it’s quiet. When it’s hard. When it hurts.

That, I’ve found, is where the real work lives.

Writing isn’t always romantic. Sometimes it’s just a decision: to show up. To sit with the silence. To tap out a paragraph you’ll probably delete tomorrow, not because it’s good, but because it keeps the habit alive. It’s resistance in its softest form, writing even when the muse doesn’t show up.

And on those days, there’s a different kind of satisfaction. Not the high of a breakthrough, but the quiet pride of keeping faith with the story. Of putting your hand to the wheel even when the stars aren’t shining.

Because the truth is, the muse does come back. Eventually. She always does. But sometimes she waits to see if you’ll keep writing without her.

And that’s when the real pages are written.

Azaroth and the First Hell: The Demon God Who Was Once Divine

/ Author Simon Phillips / Leave a comment

Before he became the greatest threat to Ældorra, Azaroth held a place among the divine.

During the age of the Imperium Arcana, the gods still shaped the world. Their presence guided the rise of empires, the movement of stars, and the sacred flow of magic. Among them stood Azaroth, an entity devoted to balance and universal law. He did not govern love or war. His realm existed at the intersection of order and arcane truth. Mortal kingdoms honoured him with silent offerings, while the Order of Magicians held his name among the highest in their ancient texts.

Over time, something within Azaroth shifted.

No records reveal the full path of his descent. Even the Order, with all its stored knowledge and sealed tomes, whispers only fragments. What remains clear is this: Azaroth chose to leave the High Heavens. He reached downward, into the wounded depths of reality, the realm known only as the First Hell.

That place devours meaning. Magic there fractures into madness. Time becomes a storm of echoes. Azaroth returned changed. Divine no longer, he emerged cloaked in shadows that moved like thought. His magic no longer carried harmony. It consumed. Across the divine realms, tremors of dread followed in his wake.

The God of Magic rose in response. Once kin to Azaroth, he stood alone before the fallen deity. The clash between them tore across sky, land, and sea. Entire mountain ranges cracked. Oceans surged beyond their borders. Celestial towers collapsed into memory.

The fallen was sealed. Azaroth’s essence remained trapped within the First Hell. To ensure the prison held, the God of Magic sacrificed himself. No tomb bears his name. No statue rises in his honour. His essence faded, though his victory allowed the world to continue.

The seal endured across centuries.

Now, it weakens.

In The Veil of Kings and Gods, faint tremors move through forgotten chambers and shattered temples. Spells fail. Visions twist. In moments of silence, some hear voices echoing with words never spoken. The First Hell watches once more. Azaroth reaches toward the living world through cracks in the veil.

He remains more than a demon. A god’s ambition shaped his fall. His memory was stripped from scripture, yet his will never faded. He waits, not in silence, but in hunger.

And now, the gate flickers.

Magic in Ældorra: A Gift, a Curse, or Something More?

/ Author Simon Phillips / Leave a comment

In Ældorra, magic is not studied. It is claimed. A birthright, a spark born into the blood, seen by the Order, and seized before the world can lay its hands on you.

From the moment a child reveals the first hint of magic, whether by accident or fear, the Order of Magicians arrives. There are no family farewells. No second chances. The child is taken, their name entered into the record of the Academy, and whatever life they knew is quietly severed. To possess magic is to belong to the Order. Nothing else.

All magicians begin the same. They are taught the spoken forms, the written glyphs, the rigid cadence of incantation. Magic cannot be used without language. It must be spoken aloud, shaped by voice and carved by word. There are no silent spells, no intuitive gestures, no whispered charms in the night. If a magician forgets a word, the spell fails. If they twist its structure, the spell misfires, or worse.

Yet among those who speak the same spells, power is not equal.

Each magician draws from what the Order calls their well. Some wells are shallow, only able to fuel modest enchantments, brief illusions, momentary shields, small bursts of flame. Others are deep, vast, and enduring. Those who carry such wells rise quickly. These are the ones who bend flame to their will, who can speak a word and bring down the sky. They are the ones who ascend to the Council: The Order of Five, whose decisions shape the kingdoms more than any throne.

But even the greatest magician faces one immutable truth: they cannot heal.

It is not that healing magic is forbidden, it is simply beyond their reach. No spell, no incantation, no force of arcane will can mend the flesh or restore the spirit. That gift belongs solely to the Church of Christiana. Theirs is the divine touch, the holy word. It is a truth both sides know, yet seldom speak aloud: the Order commands the arcane, but it is the Church that claims the soul.

And though the world fears the Order, it is not without its own cruelty.

In Ældorra, only men may wield magic. Women, no matter how gifted, are forbidden by law. A woman who speaks a spell, whether for battle or for mercy, is declared a criminal. Even a healing incantation, performed in secret, may bring death. The punishment is absolute. The Order’s law is iron, and its reach does not falter.

So is magic a gift? A curse? Or something stranger still?

For those who carry the spark, there is no choice. Only the path set before them, the laws carved in stone, and the weight of a power they did not ask for, spoken word by spoken word, until their voice is no longer their own.

Writing While Working Two Jobs: Why I Still Do It

/ Author Simon Phillips / Leave a comment

People often ask me how I find the time to write while working two jobs. The short answer is: I don’t. Not really. Not the way I wish I could. But I do write, every week, sometimes every day, usually when I should be resting. And despite the exhaustion, the long nights, the early mornings, and the occasional doubt, I keep going. Because the story matters.

The Chaos Behind the Chapters

Right now, my life is split between running a small school, working night shifts, and squeezing in writing during stolen hours. Most days, I get by on sheer routine. Coffee helps. So does knowing that every chapter I finish brings me one step closer to the book I’ve dreamed of releasing for years: The Veil of Kings and Gods.

I’m not writing from a cabin in the woods or some serene studio. I’m writing at school, on the dinning room table, between shifts, and late into the night when everything else is quiet. This novel is being built between real life’s demands and that, in a strange way, makes it even more personal.

Why Not Wait?

It would be easy to say, “I’ll write when life slows down.” But the truth is, life might not. And if I wait for the perfect time, I might never finish the story I’ve already poured so much of myself into.

So instead, I chip away. One scene, one chapter, one revision at a time. And you know what? That consistency adds up. Even if I’m tired. Even if I sometimes question whether it’s worth it.

The Deeper Reason

I write because I love this world I’ve created. I believe in the characters. Simion, Elana, the fractured kingdoms of Ældorra, they’ve stayed with me through everything. And if they’ve stayed with me, maybe they’ll stay with readers too.

Writing gives me a sense of purpose beyond the day-to-day. It’s a reminder that I’m building something for myself, something that might one day outlive the jobs, the side gigs, and even the fatigue.

If You’re in the Same Boat

To anyone reading this who’s also juggling too much while trying to create something: keep going. Your work is valid, even if it’s slow. Even if it’s messy. Even if no one sees it yet. Just showing up matters.

What’s Next?

I’ve just finished proofreading and editing three more chapters, and it’s starting to feel real. I’ll be sharing more about the process and the book itself, both here and on my YouTube channel soon. If you’re curious about how a fantasy novel gets written under pressure (and often after midnight), subscribe or follow along.

Until then, thank you for reading, and thank you for letting me share this chaotic, hopeful journey.

Editing, Rereading, and Rediscovering My Story

/ Author Simon Phillips / Leave a comment

Over the past few days, I’ve been deep in the process of proof-reading and editing three chapters of my novel, The Veil of Kings and Gods. It’s not the most glamorous part of writing, but this time, it felt different.

Something about reading the story with fresh eyes after a short break made the experience… enjoyable. Genuinely enjoyable.

I wasn’t just correcting grammar or trimming repetition, I was rediscovering the world I’d built. The tension in a particular scene, the rhythm of dialogue I’d forgotten writing, or that one line that landed exactly how I hoped it would months ago. These small victories reminded me that, yes, I’m actually telling a story worth reading.

There’s a strange kind of pride that comes with this phase. It’s less about ambition and more about affirmation. Not “Will this sell?” but “I’m glad I wrote this.”

Of course, I still tweak. I still cut. I still sigh when a sentence refuses to behave. But the difference now is that I’m refining something real, something that already exists, not chasing a blank page.

If you’ve ever written something long-form, be it a novel, a thesis, or even a personal journal, you might know the feeling: rereading your own words and thinking, This isn’t perfect… but it’s mine. And it’s good.

That’s the stage I’m in right now. And I wanted to share it, not just the technical process, but the strange joy of falling back into a world you created and realising you want to stay there a little longer.

Want to Hear the Behind-the-Scenes Version?

If you’d rather hear me talk through the editing process, I recorded a short face-to-camera video as well. You can watch it here:

Whether you’re a fellow writer, a reader waiting for the book, or just curious about the creative process, I hope this gives you a little window into what it means to edit with joy.

Let me know in the comments: Have you ever gone back to something you made and felt quietly proud of it?

Writing Between Worlds: How I Create Without a Dedicated Space

/ Author Simon Phillips / Leave a comment

There’s a romantic image of writers, sitting at a tidy desk by the window, sunlight pouring in, coffee steaming, and silence wrapping around them like a warm blanket. I admire that image. But my reality looks nothing like it.

I don’t have a designated writing space. Instead, I bounce between my school desk during quiet moments, the dining table when it’s free, and sometimes, my children’s study desk, usually after they’ve abandoned it for something more exciting. These places aren’t ideal, but they’ve become little writing islands where my story continues to grow.

As for my schedule, it’s a puzzle I solve day by day. I try to write in the afternoons between lessons, catching the quiet moments when the school slows down. Evenings are when I get the most done, once the family is asleep and the house slips into silence, that’s when I open the laptop and step back into Ældorra or whatever world I’m working on.

Weekends are unpredictable. If there’s time, after the housework, the errands, the family time, I write. Sometimes it’s just for twenty minutes, sometimes I surprise myself with a full hour of deep focus. But I’ve learned something valuable: consistency doesn’t always mean strict routines. Sometimes it just means showing up when you can, and making those small moments count.

I don’t write in perfect conditions. I write around life. And in a way, I think that gives my stories more life too.

If you’re a writer juggling your own chaos, I’d love to hear where and when you find your writing windows. Let’s build a space together, even if it’s scattered.

How I Stay Inspired While Writing the Same Story for Years

/ Author Simon Phillips / Leave a comment

Writing a novel isn’t always a straight path. For me, it’s been more like a winding mountain trail, sometimes clear and exciting, other times foggy and slow. I’ve been working on The Veil of Kings and Gods for years now. The world, the characters, and the themes have all evolved over time. And yet, somehow, I’ve never walked away from it.

So how do I stay inspired?

It’s not some mystical lightning bolt. It’s smaller than that, quieter. Sometimes it’s rediscovering an old scene I wrote months ago that still makes me smile. Other times it’s worldbuilding, filling in the map of Ældorra, thinking about what life is like in a ruined empire or how a long-forgotten piece of magic reshapes a character’s fate.

I also let the story grow with me. When I started this book, I was in a very different place in life. But I didn’t throw it out and start over. Instead, I’ve allowed my voice, my ideas, and my perspective to shift as the years have passed. I’ve rewritten, restructured, and reimagined, but never lost the heart of it.

What helps most, though, is this: I don’t pressure myself to rush.

This is a story I care about. I want it to be the best version of itself, not the fastest one. That mindset keeps the love alive. Some days I only manage a few lines. Other days I go deep. But each word brings me closer to the story I want to share.

If you’re writing something that’s taken years, you’re not alone. Let it take the time it needs. Let it change with you. The story will be stronger for it.

I’d love to hear about your long-term projects. What keeps you going? What has changed since you started?