how to write 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.

The village doesn’t exist yet but I know it’s there

/ Author Simon Phillips / Leave a comment

It’s just past midnight.

A candle flickers beside me, catching the curl of parchment and the edge of an old teacup. I’m staring at a map no one’s ever seen. A blank patch of woodland sits untouched waiting. Not for a battle or a prophecy. Just a name.

Thronheim. Thornwynde. Djenhara.

Each one arrives with a different weight. A different feeling. As though I’ve stepped into a new season, a different wind stirring the trees. I try one, then another, letting the sound of it sit on the tongue.

Naming a place in a fantasy world isn’t just about the sound. It’s about the history you haven’t written yet. The lives you haven’t met. A name carries the mood of the land, its sorrow, its strength, its story.

And some nights, I can’t move forward until I find the one that fits.

Naming places is like uncovering them

Sometimes it feels less like creating and more like discovering. The name already exists somewhere, I’m just trying to hear it clearly. It might come from a half-remembered dream or an echo of another language. Often it arrives when I’m nowhere near the desk. Walking. Waiting. Listening.

Other times, I sit like this. Quiet. Focused. Letting the world grow through the stillness.

The right name shapes the path ahead. It tells me what kind of people might live there. What kind of secrets the soil might keep. A name like Sahmirra might belong to a place scarred by fire. Solvryn whispers of hidden things in the marsh.

And once I hear it, the true one, I know where to go next.

Behind the scenes of a quiet worldbuilder

This is what fantasy writing really looks like most days. Not sweeping battles or lightning storms of inspiration. Just quiet choices, made in the dark, that slowly build a world.

You don’t always need to rush. Some villages take longer to appear. Some names wait until you’re ready to find them.

If you’d like to see more of how I write these stories, how the world of Ældorra unfolds through maps, short stories, and strange midnight moments, you’re always welcome here.