One of the things I have been thinking about, now that Beyond Winter’s Silence is out, is what the characters in the Foundations of Edrass books are really there to do.

Book Two is live! That still feels worth saying plainly, because for a long time I was not sure Book One would ever exist outside my own folders, notes and half-finished drafts.

Religion is one of the easiest parts of worldbuilding to make too tidy. A few gods, a few temples, a creation myth, a priesthood, perhaps a festival or two, and it can look finished on paper. There is a pantheon. There are rituals. There are symbols. There are names for things.

Beyond Winter’s Silence has now been uploaded to KDP and is going through the approval process.

I am not an artist by any sensible definition. I can draw well enough to explain an idea to myself, but not well enough to pretend the result is finished art. And yet I have still built beautiful worlds.

I have been creating worlds for as long as I can remember. That sounds rather grand, but it began simply enough. Like many private habits, it was not originally meant to become anything public. It was something done because it was interesting.

Beyond Winter's Silence is nearly finished. The first draft is complete, the retcon pass is underway, and publication is due in May. That is a practical fact. But it is also a moment worth pausing on, because the book that is almost ready did not begin with a plot. It began, as everything in this project begins, with a question about how a place actually works.

On writing Beyond Winter’s Silence, building the worldbuilding guide series, and learning the machinery of publishing.

Silent Winter is out now, and it seems a good moment to say something about what kind of book it is, and about the world from which it comes.

Every long-term project has an odd little origin story.Panimálay’s just happens to involve Vikings giving Greek hoplites the side-eye across a homemade map.

It’s been about a year since I asked the question: Can you have too much tech? Back then I set myself a small challenge — see if I could live almost entirely from my iPad and leave the Mac Mini switched off unless absolutely necessary. A modest bit of restraint, perhaps, but also a test of whether I really needed all the “stuff” that had crept into my digital life.

Some people move on from their childhood fascinations. I never did. Fantasy role-playing, wargaming, creating mythical lands, and an incurable interest in history have been with me since I was about seven or eight—perhaps earlier. The only other lifelong constant is the band Rush, but that’s another story.