character-driven fantasy

What I’m Polishing Right Now And Why It Matters

/ Author Simon Phillips / Leave a comment

I’ve reached Chapter 36 in the proofreading and editing phase of The Veil of Kings and Gods, and the pattern has become clear: this is no longer about fixing mistakes. It’s about tone. Rhythm. Weight. The spaces between words.

When I began this second draft, I thought I’d be reshaping large sections, reordering scenes, reworking arcs, perhaps cutting full paragraphs. And in truth, some chapters needed that. Yet here, in the later stages, the work has become quieter. More precise. Less like carving, more like tuning.

I’m refining sentence flow. Ensuring no paragraph ends with a stumble. Trimming where the language slows the momentum or where an image tries too hard to impress. Dialogue has taken centre stage again too. In Simion’s chapters especially, I’ve been paying attention to how he thinks, how he observes. His voice must remain grounded, measured, introspective, often solemn, but never flat. He is not a man who wastes words. So neither should I.

There’s also the matter of emotional pacing. Certain scenes strike harder now than they did in the first draft, and I’ve begun to see where quiet moments need to linger longer, or where a single line can carry the echo of something far greater if allowed room to breathe. Chapter 36, for instance, held a moment that was previously brushed over, just a line or two. This time, I let it unfold. Let it weigh down the silence.

None of these changes are structural. You won’t find a new character or a rewritten ending here. What’s happening is deeper: it’s the voice of the book aligning with its soul. And I know I’m close. There’s something sacred about this part of the process, where the raw story becomes refined enough to stand on its own, without commentary or apology.

So, that’s where I am. Nearing the final arc. Reading aloud. Listening for false notes. Letting the book breathe.

Thank you for walking alongside me.

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.