Chat, we have really been going through it. But in a good way.
So it’s only now that I’ve gotten around to telling you that preorders are now available for Poesy, coming November 7, 2026!
And oh my god, this cover? It’s absolutely phenomenal. Previously, my favorite cover in the series was Absent All Light, but Katarina absolutely outdid herself with this one. Cerie looks utterly badass and unrepentant. I also love how she looks to be in some sort of spell (which is appropriate when you know the story).
Well, let’s take a look at the blurb so you can see what we’re dealing with this go-round.
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Lesbian literary fantasy reaches an earth-shaking climax in the character-driven sixth book of the Eirenic Verses series.
Cerie Korviridi has spent her entire life learning High Poetry, a rare skill that assists her impoverished nation in countering endless warfare. Worshipping the goddess of poets is all she has ever known – that and her hatred for the enemy. Her worst nightmare comes true when she is kidnapped by her nation’s eternal rival, a queendom seeking High Poetry to colonize her homeland.
Choosing to submit to the royal family’s demands rather than be thrown to wild dogs, Cerie assists while planning her own counterstrike. When the headstrong princess, Haniya Aina, learns that Cerie will help her country win the eternal war by unleashing poetry at the border, she joins the quest in hopes of wooing the hard-hearted foreigner and escaping the drudgery of palace life. Cerie attempts to ignore her growing attraction to her lifelong enemy’s emissary, but she’s powerless against Haniya’s fiery personality.
Besieged by soldiers on both sides, the sarcastic High Poet and the feisty princess grow closer through their travels, but they struggle with fragmenting loyalty to their respective homelands. Cerie’s newfound understanding of the similarities between the embattled nations emboldens her to find a satisficing solution that will protect both countries. The only way to bring bilateral security is to terrify everyone with earth-shattering High Poetry, shaking both countries down to the bones.
With lush prose reminiscent of Freya Marsk or This Is How You Lose the Time War, this epic enemies-to-lovers sapphic fantasy features intergenerational grudges, a strong female protagonist, and dozens of original poems carefully interwoven into the text.
Poesy was the first book I wrote in the series, back when I foolishly believed I could restrain myself to a trilogy. First completed in October 2023, it will be an amazing three years between when I first met my beloved Cerie Korviridi and when she receives her very own novel all about her experiences. She’s grown up a lot during that time, experienced remarkable trials I wouldn’t have imagined, and refined her voice into its laser-sharp, highly analytical tone.
I’m delighted to share her with you in November and hope you’ll preorder so that the digital edition is waiting for you once the year slides toward winter.
If you’re exhausted by all the exciting announcement posts, not to worry; we’re going back to our regularly scheduled programming next week, and you won’t have to hear about the books for a while (until October). See you then.
Happy Fourth of July! As this year is America’s 250th anniversary, I wanted to celebrate by bringing my beloved characters to somewhere that most people outside of the United States never really get to see: Appalachia, namely West Virginia.
And, to be honest, most people in the US don’t take the time to visit West Virginia either. It’s one of the poorest and least-educated states in the union, often derided as being backwards and empty.
West Virginia is home to 1.76 million people; Lithuania, which is around the same size, has 2.7 million people. Rural and mostly forgotten by big-city people, West Virginia thrums along on its own trajectory, with its own customs that don’t always align with its contemporaries on the coasts.
So the slice of America you are about to see today, through the eyes of the Eirenic Verses characters, is not the carefully curated New York or Los Angeles you’re accustomed to; it’s a deeper, realer version that exists in small towns throughout the country.
I would also say that this vision of America is one that is closer to our roots as a nation: independent, unpolished, and wholly unapologetic.
Back in 2024, I had the opportunity to visit New River Gorge for about two weeks. I absolutely loved the beautiful scenery, the peaceful quietude, and the true generosity of the people. We stayed in a tiny AirBnB in the middle of nowhere with our two dogs, downhill from an old cemetery and next door to a pizza shop (which was owned by the same family).
Along the way, I got to go horseback riding through the hills, marvel at Cathedral Falls, and take a coal train into the historic Beckley Mine. It was a magical trip, even if I was almost pissing myself as we whizzed along those terrifying mountain roads! West Virginia has a piece of my heart forever; I completely understand why they say it’s almost heaven.
Enough about my WV love. This is the first chapter, and the rest will be hosted on Archive of Our Own(alongside all my pre-Eirenic Verses fanfics, haha).
You do not need an AO3 account to read the story; it’s just more convenient to put it there because the entire thing is seven chapters long. Plus an epilogue.
Without further ado, here’s the first chapter!
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Cerie pulled the metal tab back with tender slowness, glancing toward the thin particleboard door for any lights surfacing from underneath. This was her third Monster of the night; Uileac would kill her if he knew.
And Orrinir needed to be up early for his 7 am shift at the Breme County Fire Department, shuffling into his gear as the light trickled over the Appalachians like technicolor whipped cream. If she woke her brother-in-law with an explosive drink clatter, her brother would kill her twice.
Her choppy green hair was almost stickier than the energy drink from midsummer sweat; her emerald eyes must be sunk half into her head. One of her fingernails—colored in with black Sharpie, as she was too lazy for nail polish—had cracked from how hard she gnawed it: a sure sign that she needed some sleep. But when the research bug hit her, it dug in like a tick. Not even that dumb scraping tool Uileac kept on his keyring could prise the curiosity from her bones.
“One more post,” she muttered to herself, wiggling her mouse awake as she navigated back to Tumblr from her Google Docs file. The plastic blob responded slowly, being bought from the dollar store, but finally lit the tiny room in a harsh blue glow. One of her blacklight posters faded back into obscurity, its titillating goth bombshell disappearing like magic.
If she read fast enough, she’d have a good four hours to sleep before her shift at Mordrek’s Diner. Half her blood was caffeine now, so there was plenty of vivacity to spare. Eyes jittering, she tried to focus on the words: ugly blue font, abandoned in a moat of pale turquoise roses. Whoever the hell this “sorrowbells” person was, they had no taste.
Deep in Breme County is one of Appalachia’s most mysterious abandoned towns: Goldnin. According to legend, a miner named Taran found a gold nugget in a nearby stream during the first Gold Rush of 1799. Ambitious miners flocked here and set up operations; by the end of 1799, a general store, multiple buildings, and a first cutting was in place.
Throughout 1800, miners diligently hunted for deposits, bringing their families and constructing rough tar-paper shacks. Taran refused to fully disclose where he had discovered the gold, only insisted they must be close.
Six months of mining produced nothing but a handful of flakes. Records say a disappointed miner called it “the most damn disgraceful haul the earth ever did see.” At last, a crowd of drunk miners interrogated Taran behind the Goldnin Saloon on a hot July night.
Surrounded by knives and wild-eyed miners, Taran admitted the truth: he’d brought the gold nugget up with him from North Carolina and fabricated the whole thing.
He was stabbed to death right there at the saloon bar, but everyone insisted they saw nothing. Within days, the whole town was deserted, with Taran’s body left to rot where it lay. The entire settlement has been wiped off all maps, its records buried. Only a few select people know its coordinates (message me for details).
Visitors to Goldnin report thunderbirds with flaming wings that swoop through the forest, leaving singed trees and smoke. Large eastern wolves—a species extinct here in West Virginia since 1900—have supposedly been sighted running circles around the old town.
On hot July nights, it’s said one can hear Taran gurgling in the old saloon.
While the Forest Service has placed grilles over the abandoned mineshafts, some have fallen into disrepair. Exercise caution when visiting Goldnin and report open shafts to the Breme County Fire Department.
Cerie smirked, glancing over to her wall with its tattered Mothman poster. Beyond it, Uileac and Orrinir lay sleeping like the dead in the master suite of the double-wide, if one could call such a tiny space by such an ample title. In the cheeping hush of a late West Virginia night, she could almost hear Orrinir’s soft snores, followed by his pit bull snuffling around a laundry pile as usual.
She sure would tell the Breme County Fire Department if she found any mineshafts, because her brother-in-law was sure as hell coming along. The only complication was timing her trip to Goldnin so that it matched his time off; otherwise, both he and Uileac would have a convenient excuse to keep her from visiting such a cursed place.
The dogs would need to stay home, though. If there truly were spectral wolves hanging about, Uileac’s German Shepherd would tear them to pieces upon one sharp command. And Bannain, that dopey pit bull, would be easy pickins’. He’d think they were new friends.
Her TikTok would be a masterpiece: perhaps a ten-part series, maybe 11, with cinematic music and excellent camera work. Finally her big break, where thousands of breathless viewers flocked to explore Breme’s eerie hallows. Really, the whole town should thank her, as she was about to turn this isolated county into the state’s biggest tourist attraction. Much more exciting than New River Gorge, which was just a waterway blocked by a few measly hills.
Would she credit this nonsense “sorrowbells?” A nice gesture, to be sure, and she would have to ask for the coordinates, apparently. But still, did she want her reputable, well-researched, and highly credible social media account to be associated with such a …?
Cerie jolted awake at a light crinkle, adrenaline pooling in her empty stomach. Faint shafts of sunlight distorted around a tall, burly form clad in casual workout clothes, padding cautiously across a threadbare rug. Half-asleep and frantic, she tensed for a fight. Uileac had taught her to throw a mean right hook.
But no, slate gray eyes and messy red hair meant there was no threat.
“I saw your light on,” Orrinir apologized in a whisper, holding a half-empty Monster can with gluey ooze on the sides. “Know you hate Uileac to see you drinking them things.”
Not that her brother could do anything about it—she was a fully-fledged adult—but his lectures were so annoying.
“Did I wake you?” Some timekeeping device in her fuzzy head assured her that couldn’t be true. Orrinir was just as punctual as his husband—and just as deep a sleeper. Still, her brother-in-law cherished politeness as a golden rule; he’d probably apologize to the devil for stepping on his tail.
Before he could answer, a brown block rammed him, almost careening the big man into her crystals and tawdry paperbacks arrayed haphazardly on cheap secondhand shelves. He righted himself with a curse as the blur began panting excitedly.
“Damnit, Bannain!” he barked at the pit bull. “Down, boy!”
But Bannain, a completely unrepentant package of pure muscle, instead started licking a sugary sheen of spilled Monster from the linoleum.
When Cerie pulled her cracked laptop open, the lock screen told her exactly how badly she’d fucked up: 5:45 am. And she had to drag herself to work at seven, running on maybe three hours of scattered sleep.
Hands full of crushed aluminum, Orrinir sighed and surrendered the effort of calling his dog back. “Uileac’n I are going for our run with Erix. Please don’t let Bannain tear up the house. And don’t you dare call out of work.”
She shot him a glower and nudged Bannain off the puddle, which he promptly colonized again. “Not like Mordrek will fire me. He ain’t even there ‘til 10 am half the damn time.”
Orrinir gave a disapproving grunt and turned away, setting the cans back down. Asshole.
The soft click of dog nails floated down the hallway, followed by the even trod of Uileac’s footsteps. Quickly Cerie snatched the empty drinks and swept them under her desk, where they rattled ominously against a pile of similarly deposited debris. After the two men left, she’d sneak out to their dumpster and hide the evidence: the same thing she’d told herself yesterday, and the day before. But it would absolutely happen this time, she was sure of it.
A tea-green head poked into her room: Uileac in his faded high school cross-country tee and a pair of athletic shorts. Such a stark difference from his crisp park ranger uniform that it always made her want to chuckle—not that she’d dare. And high school was over a decade past for him, but he insisted the shirt was good luck.
His leafy eyes were far too alert for so early in the morning, which made her scowl even harder. Behind him, Erix sat in a perfect heel, her tawny tail swishing and her placid gaze fixed on Bannain still slurping.
“More of your TikTok nonsense?” Uileac asked casually, gesturing to her notebooks covered in arcane scrawl. “You have, what? Like a dozen followers now?”
“Don’t be mean,” Orrinir hissed. “It’s a nice little hobby. Gets her out the house.”
“Two hundred and seventy-seven followers.” She pretended to busy herself with the busted old camera set by her desk, as if this would prove her social media legitimacy. “But my next series will be a real hit.”
“You’ll have to explain it later. If I don’t take Erix running this very second, she’ll spontaneously combust.”
Uileac glanced up at Orrinir, who nodded before the two moved to the door in their typical unison. How two men with such contrasting physiques could have coordinated had always baffled her, but she couldn’t remember them ever being apart anyway. They’d already been mooning over one another while she was in her middle school wolfgirl phase; in fact, Orrinir had presented her with the cheap clip-on wolf tail she insisted was an anatomical necessity.
As he left, Uileac pointed at her and, in an eerily similar tone to his husband, told her the same damn thing.
“Do not call out today. Don’t care how tired you are, and don’t care how much you hate that Haniya girl.”
Cerie was not blushing; it was just swampy in here.
“I know for damn sure she’ll be there, so I’m gonna call out.”
But Uileac crossed his arms, just like their mama used to, and slowed his voice to a threatening drawl. “Do not call out. You’ll get yourself fired, and then you’ll have to work at Dollar General.”
Cerie scowled but didn’t argue. It was, indeed, a legitimate threat.
With that, the two abandoned her with Bannain, who hopped onto her bed and began rolling atop the rumpled, handmade quilt. She glared at the dun pit bull, but he ignored the silent complaint as he always did.
Her phone chimed; she groaned, sure it was one of the men reminding her about employment catastrophes for a third time. Instead, she unlocked it to reveal an extremely welcome text.
“Don’t feel like opening shop, and Carrot’s seeing the farrier. Come in tomorrow and I’ll pay you for today too.”
Mordrek Willets, that beautiful bastard. The most inconsistent restaurateur on the planet, whose business was suspiciously successful despite his awful work ethic. And his donkey, who the sheriff had given up on evicting and who received world-class veterinary care somehow.
Then a text from Uileac, this one annoyingly precise.
“Got a call for search and rescue. Erix and I will sleep at the ranger station and hopefully I’ll be home tomorrow. Orri is 48/96 this week. There’s food in the fridge. Stop wasting money on takeout. Take Bannain for a walk but don’t wait til nightfall. If he gets skunked he’s sleeping outside.”
Nothing that necessitated a response, and nothing that would prevent a pizza delivery. If she were lucky, it’d be the pretty blonde Rytha, who always drew hearts on the box.
“I pledge my life to you in the apocalypse,” Cerie texted Mordrek, silenced her phone, then fell asleep before the kissy-face emoji came through.
Again, you don’t need an AO3 account to read or comment. It’s just for convenience, as otherwise this blog post would be a million pages long.
Happy 4th, if you are American, and happy Free Stuff to Read Day if you’re not!
Oh, and speaking of free stuff … five of the Eirenic Verses books are now available for FREE on Smashwords through July 31st! If you haven’t gotten your copies yet, now is truly the best time to. Because, you know, they are free right now, and you don’t have to pay anything.
While not every feast or festival shows up in the Eirenic Verses, this additional lore may be of interest to some readers, offering a deeper look into the country’s history and traditions. Don’t worry – there’s no test, nor is this essential reading. Enjoy!
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New Years
Late winter
Unlike Breme, which has a calendar based on lunar movements, Sina has a set calendar codified by one of the previous rulers. This day is celebrated with lanterns, food, wine, and gambling.
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Jubilee Day
Early Spring
Held shortly after New Years. After 10 years, a peasant may have their debts forgiven. Traditionally, people would meet to settle other business matters as well, or to reconcile with past enemies and friends.
If any municipalities have deficits, the queen may visit and ceremonially forgive the debt.
Public dances and celebrations are common, with celebrants singing songs praising the Sinan Royal Family for their benevolence.
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Festival of Hydrangeas
Mid-Spring
Celebrated when the hydrangeas begin to flower, and usually lasts about a week. Hydrangeas are beloved by the Sinan people thanks to their multicolored blooms.
A tradition of hydrangea fortune-telling has sprung up around the country; it’s believed that the intensity of the color, the exact bunchings, and the overall health of the flower can tell you things about your future. Hydrangea candies and teas are popular snacks.
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Titheday
Late Spring
Essentially tax day, when people give their tithes to the queen or to the local authorities.
It has come to be a celebration of sorts because people gather together to have their tithes counted, spurring spontaneous celebrations (probably to ease the stress of giving away their money).
Drinking, feasts, and games of chance are common.
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The Miracle of Isthmus
Early Summer
One of the few “supernaturally” themed holidays, celebrating when Queen Alnan was saved from a shipwreck by the Suluk sea lion. Pageants celebrate this feat, and “Sea Lion Dances” will wind through the streets of the larger cities.
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Landing Day
Midsummer
Celebrates when Queen Alnan landed on the continent. One of the best parts of this festival is kayak jousting, when hardy competitors will attempt to push one another off their boat using their oars.
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Victors’ Day
Late Summer
The time when soldiers join the army. They may join without compulsion or be pressed into service to pay off debts. Sinan soldiers are paid handsomely, making them more likely to join.
Regardless of the reason, there are a few weeks of flurried recruitment before Victors’ Day, when they are formally invited into the service. Military parades, speeches, and tearful goodbyes occur all across the country.
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Rockfall Day
Early Fall
Celebrates one of the greatest victories of the Sinan army, when they crushed several Bremish cities with avalanches. People drop paper-mache rocks filled with candies from high places and sing songs about killing the Bremish.
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Lullweek
Mid-Fall
Sina doesn’t have many private schools or universities, but those that do exist operate all year round. However, there are a number of trade schools that use the same schedule. These are for things like shipbuilding, glassblowing, masonry, and leatherwork.
There is approximately two weeks between the two annual semesters. During this fortnight, it’s expected that students will get up to mischief and the townspeople will endure it.
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Darknight
Late Fall
This late fall evening is very unlucky, as it represents the coming winter. To counteract this, people will bank their fires high and stay up all night singing, banging pots, and drinking strong tea. It’s assumed that you’ll give your employees the next day off work unless they are essential workers, like guards or doctors.
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Fire Festival
Midwinter
Sina does not really get all that cold in most of the areas away from the mountains, but they still celebrate the coldest, darkest time of the year.
There are extravagant presents, hot drinks, huge bonfires, and presentations by dancers dressed in filmy tunics, shown as a sign of bravery.
Others will plunge into the ice-cold Melinun Sea, carrying lanterns and singing songs. Cities have boats set up to rescue hapless villagers.
One common response I have collected from What Is Cannot Be Unwritten is that it is hard to read. Not in terms of reading comprehension; it’s set no higher than a ninth-grade level, as are all of my books.
No, it’s the subject matter. My mother even said she was struggling to write a review because she was so disturbed by the climax (which I won’t spoil for you).
My response?
“Good.”
That’s exactly what it was intended to do.
Now, I’m not an edgy teenager anymore. I left that behind, oh … 20 years ago. While I do love shock and awe, there’s a deeper reason for the abhorrent climax, which I’d like to share with you today. Maybe you’ll look at my horror show a bit differently.
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The climax scene demonstrates that High Poetry is a dangerous and morally neutral force.
So one would be forgiven the assumption that High Poetry is about making things better and solving all the world’s problems and ensuring everyone is happy.
Poesy is not a benevolent goddess. She is a goddess of balance. In writing the billions-line verse that generates the world, Poesy doesn’t care about good or bad; she is only concerned with whether the poem flows flawlessly.
Like any good writer, Poesy edits her work, though in real time. She may accept the line edits of her subalterns, the High Poets. But sometimes, she rejects those suggestions, or twists them, or erases someone entirely. She crafts tragedies if those are most suitable for her ultimate aims.
In this ontological framework, the overarching world thread matters more than the individual. A single person, regardless of their intelligence or beauty or value, is insignificant unless they can be used as a tool to achieve balance.
Some people, High Poet or not, are found to be valuable plot devices, while others are deleted.
The mystery of this is that High Poets themselves are constantly wondering about their role in the world-poem. They debate their purpose, ponder how to be of greater value, and try to predict how the poem will end.
But no one within the system can truly know, just as we can’t know our purpose in the real world. We can’t measure our impact, and we can’t foresee how our own story will end. That, to me, is what makes High Poetry so fascinating.
I, as a quasi-Poesy, may know what’s going to happen, but my characters never do. And hopefully, my readers don’t either.
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By showing poetic tragedy, I reflect the devastating power of the artistic process.
While I would expect that no reader truly saw the climax coming, I did foreshadow one of the primary themes of the book early on – through a poem, of course.
In Chapter 5, Mordrek is relaxing with some poetry after murdering two dudes. As one does.
He reads one by Saint Luridalr, who expresses in the most fearsome terms what High Poetry is really about.
It is not enough to write the lines: expire with each stroke.
Bring it from the bowels, purge it as infection, leaking out of skin. The perfect vivisection, scraped from deep within.
If there are no labor pains, the words are not yet born. Scream, bear down, bare yourself, shouting, ‘I cannot, I will die—’
at last the tiny cry.
Yet this is a death business. We bleed onto vellum sheet and repeat, repeat, repeat. Pure person petrichor deep inside the ink.
So High Poetry is a death business. There is a tangible threat to the very personhood of the poet, or their subject, each time they compose. This was hinted at in Funeral of Hopes, when Irith refuses to remove Orrinir’s painful childhood memories. High Poetry could make a patient go insane, or leave them permanently crippled, or destroy their home. Or, indeed, kill someone.
That’s why poets train for decades to wield their power; they could die if they don’t get it right. Each poem plays with fate and could cause serious damage, no matter how careful the wielder may be.
Other poems throughout the series reflect on the agonizing creative process. How it tears them up inside and diminishes their life force. In the eighth book, Cerie calls herself a “burning girl,” consumed by her passion. Even the process of becoming a High Poet is awful: the women have their fingernails ripped out.
If you’ve ever chipped a nail, you can imagine how much that hurts, especially when done ten whole times. All the way to the quick, on purpose. Because you want to be a poet so bad.
Why in god’s name would anyone accept that? Because the strength is almost unfathomable. A writer could only dream of being able to make real things happen, in real time, through their words.
Hell, if you offered me that bargain … damn. I might consider it.
As I’ve discussed before, the Eirenic Verses isn’t a simple fantasy series, but a meta-meditation on the entire concept of writing. I say I write in a world where poetry is power, and that’s true. But words have power in our world, too.
The Odyssey. The Magna Carta. Mein Kampf. The Bible. Frankenstein. The Dhammapada. The Art of War. The Unabomber Manifesto.
These bodies of work shook the world and remain endlessly debated decades or centuries later. How could we not believe in the tremendous, life-altering, plot-shattering power of prose?
But it’s not just about historical or social impact. Writing irrevocably alters a person. Everything we write, whether that’s a Reddit flame war or the Great American Novel, impacts our neural wiring, our self-concept, and our place in the world.
And the writing process is painful. I cried more than I have in years when writing Funeral of Hopes because it was me there on the page. That was my life story chopped up and pasted onto a fictional person.
My world makes that maxim more tangible. There was no better way to show that in What Is Cannot Be Unwritten than to watch someone become changed beyond comprehension through their own words. Their body of work became their physical body, and it resulted in a terrible end.
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Poetry’s mechanics are hinted at through this catastrophic failure.
I’m never going to come out and have a High Poet explicitly explain why some poems work and others don’t. Not only would that be a very irritating infodump, but the poets themselves aren’t even sure; that’s said directly in What Is Cannot Be Unwritten.
(Also, I’m not sure either. They’re as clueless as me.)
We can develop our theories, though, based on this devastating climax. Does lingering too much on a specific aspect force Poesy to hyperfocus on that outcome, and thus skew the results? How much does grammar impact things? Would changing the enjambment change the feeling and, thus, the action?
These are all interesting conversations to have, oriented toward a deeper purpose.
I’m trying to make the readers think more deeply about poetry because, well, I love poetry. I’ve been writing poetry since I was in fifth grade; it’s had an enormous role in my life for decades now.
And, frankly, I hate what the modern world has done to this beautiful, ancient art form. People genuinely think you can write a sentence, toss in a few line breaks, and call it a day. Nope. There are specific rules, functions, and techniques necessary to create a truly beautiful poem – many of which have no parallels to prose whatsoever.
I would argue that poetry is the most derided and dismissed craft because so many refuse to study what makes a poem really work.
“Anyone can write a poem! It’s easy,” people say. “Put some words together and you’re done. Nothing to it.”
Sure. If you do it the lazy way, it’s easy. But then you have a dumb boring poem that reads like something I wrote in middle school.
Which is why I have elevated poetry to a genuine magic system. It’s not because I want to write more poems, though that’s a bonus. I want to demonstrate how powerful and difficult they are, so that people are motivated to look more closely at all poetry.
In the Eirenic Verses, even the most beautiful poem can backfire. Now readers are compelled to pore over it and wonder why this poem, of all they have seen thus far in the series, had such a horrible effect. I demand that they reflect on what makes poetry so special – and, perhaps, encourage them to make their own work.
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Do you have to like the gross scenes in my book? No, of course not. You’re not obligated to like anything you don’t want to. You can leave a nasty review complaining about how icky the climax was, or refuse to finish the book now that you know there will be an icky part in it.
I am a-okay with that. Negative reactions will not stop me from pursuing my passions. I want readers to enjoy my work, but I also know that not everyone will like what I write.
In fact, I’m grateful to any reviewer willing to share their complaints. Like Poesy, I might not incorporate those suggestions into my world, but I’ll at least consider them.
My work’s strength is its authenticity, which leaves my eccentrities intact. I’m a weird person, and I don’t get along with everyone. That’s fine.
That’s why I self publish: I enjoy complete artistic freedom. A traditional publisher would probably reject that scene or ask me to tone it down so that readers weren’t left shaken.
Where’s the fun in that? For me, writing is about pushing boundaries, exploring deeper themes, and forcing myself to try harder with every project. The Eirenic Verses has such a massive tonal shift because I get bored easily and always want to try something new.
My fiction writing isn’t my money maker. It’s my enrichment. Without it, I would be a little caged tiger gnawing on the bars of my enclosure – and perhaps mauling someone. I kill characters to satisfy my basest impulses without endangering a real human being. You’re welcome!
I am a ravenous writer and ruthless author. If you’re not overwhelmed with emotion, then I’ve failed. I want you to be amazed, delighted, devastated, or depressed.
And, yes, occasionally disgusted. That, to me, is a job well done.
Now that we’ve gotten through Funeral of Hopesand have seen (or heard of) nearly every important Bremish locale in the series, it’s time to take a closer look at each of these places. Here’s a quick guide to all the most essential spots!
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Bewerian
Blessed Bewerian was a High Poet known for a unique ability: using poetry to compel truth from any liar. To capitalize on this trust, the budding Bremish government turned a sleepy town into a bustling metropolis astride the Great Gold River.
Over time, they built the Bremish Council, an imposing brown headquarters for the eponymous government system. The Bremish Council adjoins the War Committee, demonstrating the tight bond between political savvy and military strength.
While much of the capital’s commerce takes place across Mermina’s Bridge, in Goldnin, there are plenty of merchants and vendors there to feed those visiting from further afield. Bewerian is known for being a loud, overwhelming place, stuffed with tourists there to admire the lovely architecture designed by High Poets.
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Goldnin
Gritty Goldnin may not really be the capital, but it serves as the heart of Breme’s populace: a place packed with shops, bars, and training centers. This is where Uileac Korviridi, Orrinir Relickim, and Cerie Korviridi live in a home made by Cerie’s fellow poets.
The town is bolstered by two large buildings on opposite ends of the town. One, the War Academy, houses both the Bremish Army and those still in training on either side of the building. This magnificent structure is ringed by barracks, mostly for single men, and townhouses, for military families who cannot afford more expansive property.
At Goldnin’s other axis is the Goldnin meronym, where the High Poet Society works to train its students and study the whims of Poesy. This is the largest and most important meronym in Breme, known for producing the finest poets. Cerie is one such pupil, and she indeed lives up to the expectations, though it takes her some time to grow into her powers.
The meronym is one of the tallest buildings in town; its library is a full three stories, and its Recitation Hall has soaring ceilings that invoke awe in all who visit.
Many say that the Goldnin meronym was built so far away from the Bremish Council and War Committee to show them that though the military and government may rely on High Poetry, Poesy does not bow to them.
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Capitol Defensive Wall
In Funeral of Hopes, we see Uileac steeling himself to pass through the Capitol Defensive Wall. It is mentioned that the defensive wall hums with unspoken magic, echoing the chants of High Poets who prayed over its creation.
Both Bewerian and Goldnin are surrounded by the Capitol Defensive Wall, a barrier infused with High Poetry to repel the Sinans. This wall was crafted after the Sinans raided the country on Burning Day, razing the countryside and marching toward Bewerian. While it is bisected by the Great Gold River, great care has been taken to create a spiritual ‘net’ that closes the gap.
None are quite sure whether this truly works, as it has never been tested before. However, its side effect is a sense of unease that can drive horses mad and send them screaming for the hills.
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Quirnis
This rundown farming village was once a vibrant community – before the Sinans invaded and slaughtered most of the residents, including Cerie and Uileac’s parents. Now, it is a shell of its former self, going to ruin amongst the vines and wild goats.
Burnt carcasses of homes are slowly crumbling into the soil, while the lush fields are overrun with funeral cairns and wild plants. Only a few brave old-timers remain, though they see an influx of mourners every year around Burning Day.
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Great Gold River
The luscious Great Gold River is so named because it comes from the Gold Cascade high in the Rimuk Mountains. From there, it tears through the steppes, splits Bewerian from Goldnin, and waters endless cropland before petering out deep in the Windswept region.
Along the way, it is crossed by small footbridges, but its greatest architectural marvel is Saint Mermina’s Bridge, which connects the capital city with its suburb. This is named for Saint Mermina, the first Inculcated Poet who was trained by the famous Saint Luridalr herself.
It’s said that during a severe drought, Saint Mermina called upon Poesy to fill the Great Gold River, and a slot-shaped rainstorm came to the peoples’ aid. This miraculous feat is celebrated by the Feast of Saint Mermina in late summer, where people make flower dolls and throw them from the bridge. Hardy swimmers will dive in, hoping to catch these votives and hang them up as decorations.
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Rimuk Mountains
This strange barrier is composed of almost entirely vertical cliffs. While fleeing from invaders with the Seinn tribe, Saint Luridalr prayed for a “shroud” that would protect her people from their pursuers. Taking pity on the maiden, Poesy threw up a mountain range, forever segmenting the future Bremish from their neighbors.
As the mountains were created by their country’s founder, the Bremish are loath to sully the mountains with architecture; everything, from the boulders to the caverns below, are taboo. The near-vertical cliffs are almost impossible to climb anyway, making it infeasible that anyone without powered flight could reach past them.
However, this doesn’t stop the Sinans from attempting, time and time again. They have even hammered a defensive tower into the tallest mountain, Mt. Luridalr, in hopes of advancing their aims. This only adds to the emnity between the countries; whereas one sees a sacred, protective force, the other sees a nuisance.
Full-scale invasion is almost impossible, as is regular travel between the two countries. Still, it’s possible for one or two brave individuals, or a small squadron, to creep under the mountains and explore the other side.
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Rimuk Pass
This doorway-shaped pass is where Saint Luridalr and her tribespeople stood when Poesy brought up the mountains. Over the centuries, it has become a chokepoint for battle between the nations, fortified and covered over with endless layers of stone. Nearly every confrontation between Breme and Sina takes place here, as the rest of the mountain range is almost impossible to traverse.
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Gold Cascade
The powerful Gold Cascade surges from atop the Rimuk Mountains, though no one is quite sure where it emerges or how it is fed. Its source is too high up for anyone but the most daring – or stupid – to find.
At its foot sits a small lake called the Scrying Pool, which serves much like a drowning machine. The force of the water has carved out deep underwater chasms in the softer rock; wild and unpredictable currents can shove a drowning person into one of these pockets, where they can’t escape. At the surface, though, it appears much smaller and calmer than what rages below, which can tempt the ignorant into taking a dip.
Folk wisdom says that the Scrying Pool has killed everyone who has stepped foot in its depths and that hundreds of bodies lurk below, forever trapped in the pitch-black crags. Few have ever attempted to find out the truth behind this, instead giving it a respectful berth. Still others whisper that if one should look deep into that strangely calm water, they may see the souls of the dead crying for help – or receive miraculous visions of Poesy’s whims.
The first few leagues after the Scrying Pool are called the Little Gold River, as the river runs sideways and appears much shallower than it really is. Later, it widens into the familiar Great Gold River, which is much safer to cross.
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Cave of All Fallen
This mythical cave is believed to be deep under the Rimuk Mountains, a place no living soul can enter. It is here where the spirits of dead Bremish people sleep until the end of the world in an endless dream-stasis, guarded by the Five Bremish Saints.
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Dropbone Caverns
As the Rimuk Mountains were brought up in one cataclysmic event, it produced deep fracture caves that transect its entire bulk. No one is quite sure how far they extend, as many of the first explorers were killed when walking off ledges they could not see in the dark. The lucky survivors skurried from the caverns terrified, babbling about the sounds of the mountains settling in above them.
Several underground rivers only make the terrain more treacherous, as they have carved ever-deeper canyons down below. These are the reason that the Dropbone Caverns are said to be the location of the mythical Cave of All Fallen; the burbling water can appear to be souls whispering in the underworld.
Access to the Dropbone Caverns is strictly regulated; all entrances have been closed off with heavy iron doors. The Bremish Army sporadically searches the area for missed entryways and has even set up traps to catch unsuspecting traffickers or trespassers. However, since they aren’t always on patrol, it’s more likely that a visitor will die of starvation or madness before they’re ever discovered.
The only other permitted visitors are High Poets there to offer alms to the dead or to call upon the saints for guidance. In an interesting reversal of the usual order, even they must ask for permission from the Bremish Army, but this is for their own safety.
There have been rumblings that the Sinans have begun mapping and exploring these caverns, but most dismiss that as impossible.
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Vercingetorix
Those who visit Vercingetorix will note that the town is composed of rickety homes and shops teetering precariously atop boulders. This Bremish border town was previously destroyed during a manmade avalanche, triggered by a Sinan queen to demoralize the townsfolk. Rather than being deterred, the people rebuilt their homes on the sacred stones blasted down from the Rimuk Mountains, sometimes on top of their destroyed dwellings.
The town is named after Blessed Vercingetorix, a High Poet renowned for enchanting arrows with a sickness to kill countless Sinans. For her trouble, she was captured by the enemy and tortured to death. Her intact fingernails, with their mysterious sigils, are kept in a reliquary inside the Vercingetorix meronym, renowned for its healers.
Other than the meronym, Vercingetorix also has a military outpost nestled against the entrance to Dropbone Caverns, which is closely guarded by the Bremish military. The outpost is known both for its cave rescuers, who retrieve those foolish enough to trespass, and its interrogators, who capture stray Sinan soldiers for intel.
The other point of interest in Vercingetorix is Quillstone, a shop run by the meronym’s High Poets. Here, shoppers can purchase enchanted weapons, commission poetry-infused homes, or buy medicinal treatments for common ailments.
Many buy wish bugs, which are squat clay statues with big beady eyes and wide lips. While the best wish bugs are made by the supplicant, who press a votive inside while the clay cures, others will purchase a ready-made wish bug and paste their wish inside. The High Poets will then offer a specialized poem based on the user’s desire. These are not really magical, but they comprise an important folk custom in the region.
Funds raised from Quillstone’s wares are donated to the meronym, used for medical supplies and the High Poets’ daily needs.
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Cachaille
During the earliest days of Bremish history, a naturally triggered rockslide almost destroyed this tiny town. A Bestowed Poet named Cachaille happened to be passing through the area and used her High Poetry to protect the villagers’ homes, though she was ultimately crushed by a massive boulder in the process. Thanks to her bravery, Cachaille was named as one of the Five Bremish Saints.
Cachaille’s bones still lay under this stone, which is situated at the center of the town square. People pray to the Holy Boulder in honor of her sacrifices.
However, there has never been a meronym in Cachaille. The High Poets remain concerned that the Rimuk Mountains are too fragile in the area and that their religious site may be destroyed again. Instead, solitary poets will visit Cachaille on pilgrimages and religous retreats.
Cerie Korviridi builds a meditation hut on the outskirts of Cachaille, one of her first major acts as a newly inculcated High Poet. This is frequented regularly by her fellow poets and, later on, becomes its own tourism site due to Cerie’s reputation.
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The Windswept
This little-explored, mysterious region is home to Breme’s native tribes – including those of the Seinn tribe, who are relatives to the famous Saint Luridalr. Here, they practice their traditional nomadic ways: traveling with the seasons in yurts and large horse herds, hunting game and foraging for their needs.
Bremish tribes don’t just have to worry about wild bears and wolves, though; the Bremish settlements have been increasingly encroaching on this territory, even though it is set aside for nomads by the Bremish Council. Unrest and even outright battles between settlers and nomads are common, and the Council Guards often intervene on behalf of the settlers instead.
Some tribes have settled into a semi-agrarian existence, such as the Hierlec. These people are best known for their delicious sheep cheeses and fine wool yarn. Others include the Mouton, who hunt and cure wild sheep, and the Towlow, who have made a name for themselves through their beautiful bone beads.
This is an expansion of a post I previously wrote on Tumblr back in July 2024, with additional examples and a few new sections. Enjoy!
The original post came about when I remembered the most terrifying description I’d ever read. It wasn’t bad, or even horror. It was well written.
However. The POV character described his sister in a way akin to this (my recreation, not the actual text):
Braden met his sister at the gate. They’d been apart for several years, and in that time, she had truly become a woman. Her curves had filled out, and her crimson silk dressed strained across her tight figure. Her raven hair shone in the late evening light, while her sapphire eyes watched him intently.
No, this wasn’t a brocon thing. The (male) writer was just horny for his female character and … kinda forgot that his MC, her brother, would not feel the same way.
Now, of course siblings growing up together are going to notice the other one maturing, but it’s not going to be … that. This is how I describe 17-year-old Uileac looking at his little sister, 13-year-old Cerie, in 9 Years Yearning:
She’d shot up in height this past year – almost as tall as him, to his dismay. Whatever they were feeding her in the meronym was quite good for her metabolism, as she’d put on a bit of healthy weight. Her cheeks were losing their baby roundness, and the autumnal light accentuated the sharp intelligence behind her green eyes.
In this description, you can feel Uileac’s paternal attitude toward his little sister. “Oh, she’s put on a bit of weight and isn’t a total twig anymore! I’m glad they’re feeding her well. Her face looks more adult. Fuck, she’s almost as tall as me now … I wish I weren’t so goddamn short ….”
This is a much more normal way for siblings to talk about each other, if a bit more Dad Mode than the typical older brother. I mean, who else is going to say “you’ve put on a bit of healthy weight?”
Siblings who grew up together are not going to say “holy shit I can really tell my sister has become a woman, wow her dress is tight over her curves.” If my brother had said that about me while we were kids, I’d throw up and dump a pot of soup over his head.
This kind of thing is generally accidental and has to do with how you feel about a character. But the thing is that even the sexiest femme fatale is just going to be Jennifer, The Stupid Annoying Sister, to their sibling. Our brains are literally wired not to see our siblings as sexy if we grew up with them.
There are many other ways that you must take perspective into consideration when writing descriptions. Here are just a few of them.
You’re going to focus on different things if you’re sexually attracted to someone; namely, you’ll focus in on things like breasts, legs, abs, etc. You’ll also likely devote more attention to describing people of your particular sexual orientation than you would one that you are not attracted to, and you will focus on different things.
This is part of why we hate “men writing women:” they describe every woman as if they want to fuck them. (See the first example.) It has to do with the places that their gazes naturally linger on any woman, which is what they consider important and what they focus on.
But the thing they miss is that just because we are sexually attracted to a specific gender does not mean we would want to bang anyone of that gender. I am a lesbian, but the way I would describe my mom or my therapist is vastly different than how I would describe a woman I am actually attracted to.
Romantic interests should get a more sexualized gaze; not exploitative, just more in-depth, and with more focus on their figure, specific details, etc. Everyone else should get a more basic look at eyes, hair color, height, build, and so on.
In my second book, Pride Before a Fall, Orrinir offers us a frankly embarrassing description of his husband’s beauty right off the bat so we are very well aware of how much of a simp he is.
Cast in the rosy sunlight of late afternoon, Uileac Korviridi’s hair became an anachronistic springtime, still green long after the grass had shriveled and the leaves turned. His peridot eyes were tight with concentration, his movements smooth and sure. The cavalryman’s coloring was so suited to the earthy hues of their beloved country, as if Breme itself adored him.
Those smooth movements like a dancer: Uileac’s scant height and whippet-slim form made him seem elfin next to the animal, though his commanding presence more than compensated for his diminutive stature. As the animal shied and pawed the ground, he sidestepped, his voice like birdsong on the hot wind.
Oh my godddd Orrinir shut uppp you’re so cringe!
A bit later in that chapter, he describes Cerie, his sister-in-law. We can see that he is nowhere near as attracted to Cerie as he is Uileac because of the way he glosses over most of her form.
Beyond the paddock, the back door flung open, framing his slim sister-in-law busy wiping her hands on a towel. After a pause, the towel dropped to the brown paving stones and the young woman flew toward the pine fence, her mint hair flapping and her green eyes wide with shock.
We just get the barest descriptions of her: she’s slim, young, with mint hair and green eyes. It’s clear that Orrinir does not really care about her physical form, and he’s just noting the basics. Even the part about her being slender tells us a bit about what he’s seeing because her silhouette won’t take up a lot of space.
You’re going to be more forgiving and complimentary toward someone you care about than someone you hate. Things that would be charming on a friend will be downright annoying on that one asshole at work who always throws projects to you at 5pm on a Friday.
A lover’s thick eyebrows might be called “dashing” or “strong,” while on an enemy, they’d be “overbearing” and “harsh.” Your bestie’s lisp is cute, while it seems babyish on your school rival. Your dad’s meandering sentences give him a sense of harmless musing, but they make someone else look like an idiot.
In Pride Before a Fall, Orrinir has to interact with Lieutenant Drust, his husband’s commanding officer. From his description, we get the idea that Drust is a hardass and not very pleasant to be around.
The man turned around, and Orrinir stiffened his shoulders, hoping he did not look as intimidated as he felt. His own Infantry Lieutenant might have been curt, but he lacked those vicious purple eyes, the raffle of blond hair that had been brutally deprived of its natural curls by a helmet-like pomade sheen.
Firm and bony, as many cavalrymen were, the man had long legs, a short torso, and a red-splotched face settled atop of a veiny neck. Something of Lieutenant Drust told Orrinir that he’d have no compulsions against using a crop on his soldiers if necessary.
Describing his purple eyes as “vicious” and his face as “red-splotched” isn’t very flattering, so we get a good idea of exactly how much Orrinir dislikes this man.
Even calling him “the man” several times is sort of an insult, like Drust isn’t worth being called by his name.
You should also think of the other character’s station and how that influences how the POV character sees them. If you have a character who is prejudiced toward a given group, they are always going to describe that group more harshly than they would a favored group. If they don’t like authority figures, a police officer leaning toward them will seem menacing, when they wouldn’t even notice it otherwise.
A fun option is to give two characters similar traits but describe them differently based on the POV character’s perspective of them. Readers might not even realize that it’s the exact same physical feature!
When describing settings, we’re going to give more attention to somewhere we care about, like our home. I imagine you can tell me about every chip in the paint in your bedroom, or that one weird stain in the floorboard you’ve tried everything to fix. Many times, this is a good time to add depth to the character’s backstory by briefly mentioning previous occurrences there.
Would you notice any of those things about a place you’re visiting for the first time? Probably not. You’ll give a more global attention to the scene and provide impressions, not specifics.
Depending on how nervous or adventurous you are, you’ll look for similarities or differences to things that you’re accustomed to. You might compare it to other places you have been, trying to get a frame of reference.
If you’re on a vacation and were really looking forward to coming to this specific spot, you’ll focus on exactly what you came to see, whether that’s the scene from a particular hilltop or a cafe, and this will get the most description.
There are exceptions. The beginning of my first book, 9 Years Yearning, gives a lot of detail to the protagonist’s home because it’s the very first time they’ve stepped foot in it; the house was just built for them as a wedding present. They’re excited and curious about all the details. This is going to be a huge part of their lives for years, so, just like someone house shopping, they want to make sure they don’t miss anything.
Additionally, this is the first time that the readers get to see what a home in Breme looks like: how it differs from one in our world, what decorations it may have, and so on.
By focusing in on the details of this property, we get to learn more about the society. This doesn’t overwhelm the readers with detailed backstory or things they absolutely have to remember, but it still offers context about what kind of world Eirenen is. These concrete points bring up a vision in the reader’s mind that will influence what they believe about the setting.
Descriptions change with a character’s mood, even if they’ve been in that place a million times. If they’re happy, they’ll look for things that support that mood, while if they’re upset, they’re pointing out the negatives.
In Funeral of Hopes, we see Uileac describe the War Academy very differently depending on how he’s feeling. Here, he’s glancing over at it after visiting his parents’ grave, thinking of how his parents would feel about him being a soldier.
He sighed, his face falling as he turned his attention toward the War Academy on the other side of town. Its brown facade, swirling with images of warfare, peeped above a rabble of smooth wooden roofs; its squat tower was studded with the tiny outlines of carrier pigeons awaiting dispatch. Usually he felt so proud that it was his workplace, but on Burning Day, that self-satisfaction fell flat.
His mind focuses on the images of warfare and the carrier pigeons awaiting dispatch to different outposts, which are all reminders of his job.
In another section, he’s heading to the War Academy while feeling a bit overstimulated, so he focuses on the noisiness of the building and its general surroundings rather than its physical form.
There was the War Academy, a magnificent brown block that stared down the solemn High Poet Society meronym at the other end of town. As he came closer, the squat watchtower banged to life, a massive bronze bell competing with the meronym’s carillon. Together, they overwhelmed the shouts of playing children and the melodic screams of barkers tempting customers.
And here, he’s in a reflective mood, revisiting the schoolroom section of the building and thinking about how different it felt when he was a student there.
A whoosh of air, and they walked into the War Academy’s scholastic area. Every time he visited, it seemed smaller and shabbier, though he knew this was only his perception. Even the air smelled different: soaked in that animal tang of angsty adolescents, their multitudinous colognes.
As the War Academy is a recurring location, we need to change up our descriptions to keep readers from getting bored. I pick out one or two features of the building each time and give a brief description of that rather than going into the same details. Over time, the reader gets a complete image of what the War Academy looks like, whether it’s always crowded or quiet, and so on.
Your character’s objectives need to taken into consideration as well. As an example, remember the last time that you really needed to pee while you were out.
Were you slowly and casually admiring the scenery? No! You were hunting for the bathroom. If literally anything registered for you, it was anything that looked vaguely bathroom-sign-shaped. Everything around that bathroom sign, and on your path toward the bathroom, got more attention and description to you than anything else.
Any time that your character has an urgent need, is in a hurry, or is in extreme emotional/physical distress, tone down the scenery or people descriptions. Remember that your POV character directs us where to look, so their narration needs to tell your reader what is important in that moment.
When describing a scene, you don’t need to define every single little thing in a character’s path. It’s annoying and overwhelming. You need to give us a basic overview (it’s a forest, it’s a grocery store, it’s an abbatoir) and then home in on the specific details that your character finds interesting in order to fill out the entire scene.
We, as people, focus on things we care about, things that we feel are relevant to us. Characters are the same.
Different people will notice completely different things when they walk into the same room. An animal trainer will appreciate a big pet bed and an ergonomic food bowl. An artist will admire the artwork on the walls. A computer nerd is going to roll their eyes at the scuffed-up Mac laptop.
These little details give an Impressionist view of the whole scene, and the reader will insert whatever they feel would be there based on what you suggest. This allows your reader a bit of autonomy in defining the space, which improves their immersion because they have to think and envision for themselves.
Throughout the Eirenic Verses, we get to see Uileac, Cerie, and Orrinir’s home, but only a few details are picked out each time.
In 9 Years Yearning, we see the horseheads and crossed swords above the door because these two men are soldiers and that is what they care about.
Next, Orrinir fixates on their embroidered blankets with horses on them in Pride Before a Fall, as the book has a lot to do with horses.
Uileac is feeling insecure about their relationship in Funeral of Hopes, so there are frequent mentions of gifts the two have bought one another, a subconscious reaffirmation of Uileac’s commitment and his worry that his husband doesn’t feel the same.
This doesn’t mean that you can’t describe other things, too; it just means that your character’s attention is going to be drawn to stuff that they, in particular, like or dislike.
Things like where a character’s gaze lands, how they describe things, and how much detail they give to any particular element are an important part of secondary characterization: how we get to know a character beyond what they do or tell us. It helps to create a fuller picture of their relationships, their interests, and their thought process, and it deserves just as much attention as actions and dialogue.
While not every feast or festival shows up in the Eirenic Verses, this additional lore may be of interest to some readers, offering a deeper look into the country’s history and traditions.
Don’t worry – there’s no test, nor is this essential reading.
Feast days are typically more religious, spiritually oriented days, while other events are commemorations or seasonally related holidays.
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Newest Moon
Late winter
As Breme follows a lunar calendar, the first new moon after the last 12 new moons is considered the beginning of the next year. Bremish families will head out to watch the moon rise with warm drinks in hand. They’ll also write wishes on mulberry lanterns and release them into the sky.
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Burning Day
Early spring
A solemn day in early spring, commemorating a tragic Sinan raid. Many small farming communities were razed, their children orphaned – including Uileac Korviridiand his little sister Cerie. Those who lost loved ones will return to their graves and offer blessings. Burning Day is still remembered and honored even decades later.
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Rainbreak
Mid spring
Tremendous storms pelt Breme shortly after Burning Day, making it almost impossible to travel anywhere. High Poets bolster buildings to ensure they don’t flood and offer ceremonial offerings to Poesy, protecting the Bremish from major danger. Most stay indoors and make gifts for their loved ones.
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Calling of the Crops
Late spring
Primarily practiced in the agrarian areas, this festival encourages produce to grow through High Poetry presentations. In addition to blessings and custom-crafted poetry, celebrants will whisper wishes to their newly seeded crops, explaining their necessity and encouraging them to help their masters.
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Wildflower Festival
Late spring
After Rainbreak, the steppes erupt in dramatic flower displays which demand attention from anyone who sees them. Those lucky enough to have some time off will head off to the wildflower fields with picnics, sketching pictures of the flowers or pressing them for later enjoyment. Gifts are often made of these.
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Feast of the Nomad
Early summer
The Bremish tribes are setting up their summer camps at this point, and the settled Bremish honor their heritage with the festival most sacred to Saint Luridalr. Some tribespeople will visit the settlements to perform traditional dances, compete in feats of strength, and show off their horsemanship in carefully coordinated displays.
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Honey Hunt
Mid-summer
It is said that the honey collected near midsummer is the purest and sweetest. People will go and visit local hives to gather honey – some of which is hallucinogenic. Generally a tiny taste will show whether it’s psychoactive, so one must be careful not to imbibe too much lest they be find themselves getting much too close to the All Fallen.
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Feast of Saint Mermina
Late summer
Saint Mermina saved Breme from a major drought on the Great Gold River, so this festival is celebrated by tossing flower votives of her from Mermina’s Bridge in Bewerian. Brave swimmers will dive into the current, hoping to catch one for good luck. The votives are then dried and hung up in their homes.
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Feast of the Horse
Mid autumn
Horses have been essential to Breme for centuries, so it is no wonder that they have an entire festival dedicated to them. In addition to a military parade and a High Poet recitation, celebrants can expect mounted archery competitions, horse racing, and other showmanship – and horse-shaped sugar sticks.
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Feast of All Fallen
Late autumn
A solemn occasion, this is meant to honor the Bremish dead, who are called the All Fallen; their souls are believed to sleep in a cave deep under the Rimuk Mountains until Poesy rewrites the world. People visit graves of loved ones and offer wine, food, incense, and small mementos, aware that these will be washed away by the coming snow.
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First Snow
Early winter
Like in many harsh climates, the first snow of the year is considered something to fear: a time to check one’s larders, ensure that they have enough stored, and ask neighbors for anything one might have missed. To brighten the mood, many will light fires, drink hot cider, and entertain themselves with stories.
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Snow Lights Festival
Midwinter
To cheer up the winter, the Bremish create mulberry paper lanterns to hang from their eeves and will go “questing,” where they challenge homeowners with poetry couplets. Those who beat the homeowner get a warm drink, while those who fail must offer a cookie, roll, or other small trinket. Giftgiving is also common.
Religion plays a critical role in The Eirenic Verses. One of the main characters, Cerie Korviridi, is a member of the High Poet Society who gained her powers through years of training; she is our entryway into this fascinating field. Today, I’ll delve more into its tenets and basis.
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A brief overview of Etymonism
The term “Etymonism” hasn’t shown up yet in the series, and for good reason: it doesn’t exist until later. However, most of its components are present in the first book, 9 Years Yearning, and remain ever-present throughout the rest of the texts.
In this religion, it’s believed that the goddess Poesy wrote the world into existence, maintaining a constant log of all happenings in the past, present, and future. She is Breme’s patron deity and concerns herself primarily with this culture’s needs rather than those of other countries, which we’ll discuss in a bit.
The idea of a permanent log is similar to the concept of the Akashic Records, but there’s a twist: some humans can influence this writing, namely the High Poets. These women are blessed by Poesy with the ability to change reality through poetry; they are either given this gift at birth or learn it through intensive training.
Saint Luridalr was the first High Poet; it’s believed that Poesy had never directly interacted with a human before Luridalr raised the Rimuk Mountains and discovered the gift of High Poetry. Her story is told in the upcoming Saint Luridalr and the Peony Phoenix.
Now, Poesy and her subalterns have become an irrefutable element of Bremish society and culture, informing everything from warfare to medicine. The High Poet Society is a powerful force, and their meronyms (religious centers) are the epicenter of most towns throughout the country.
At the end of the world, Poesy will erase everything and start from the beginning, where the dead Bremish will be reanimated in a new world. They are said to rest in the Cave of All Fallen deep under the Rimuk Mountains.
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Etymonism is not an attempt to convert anyone.
I understand that many are leery of religious themes in any text, as they believe it’s an attempt to impose a certain ideology on the reader.
Though my made-up religion is based on real things, its inclusion is not meant to sway anyone toward any spirituality, real or otherwise. I would hope that you can enjoy this book as an atheist or adherent of any religion whatsoever.
By bringing up its origins, I’m not telling you that Buddhism, Shintoism, Catholicism, or anything else is the “one true religion,” because I don’t believe any one true religion exists. The fact that Poesy and the High Poet Society are so tied up with one culture – Breme – is an acknowledgment of this.
If there is a universal force, I believe it can take many channels, especially as so many religions share basic principles: love one another, do no harm, become the best version of yourself. The religion that speaks to you is the correct and true one for you.
And if you don’t believe in any religion at all, that’s okay; you don’t have to be religious to be a good person. An all-loving god or a supreme universal essence would still accept and support you even if you didn’t believe in them.
Rather, I use religion as a vehicle to explore greater themes – and, of course, to have magic exist in this universe. One of these themes critiques the concept of religion in the first place: the idea that one must pray for good favor and that one’s own free will doesn’t matter.
I’m not expecting you to rip out your fingernails or start reciting poetry in hopes it will make miracles. You don’t need to believe in anything I’m saying to enjoy what I write.
With that out of the way, let’s get down to the basis of Poesy, High Poetry, and Etymonism as a religon.
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Poetic terms form a crucial basis for the religion.
As I explained in the post about names in the Eirenic Verses, meronym refers to a term that represents a whole. For example, giving someone your hand in marriage does not actually mean you’re cutting off your hand and giving it to them; you’re offering them your entire self. “Hand” would be a meronym in this instance. The opposite is homonym, where the whole stands in for the part.
So, the meronyms dotted throughout Breme are parts representing the whole of the High Poet Society.
Later on in the series, High Poetry becomes a more widespread practice and a more codified religion rises up called Etymonism. You’ve probably heard of the term etymology, or the study of a word’s origin. Etymon is the original form of a word. This perfectly represents Poesy, who is said to be the origin of all words.
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Buddhism is the main influence on Etymonism.
While I never preach to readers about what religion they should believe in, my Buddhist studies have had an impact on how I interpret my made-up spirituality.
As Etymonism rises in popularity, we hear that adherents must take refuge in the 9 Syllables: Poesy, the Etymon, and the meronym.
This is a direct reference to taking refuge in the three jewels of Buddhism, those being the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha.
But there are definitely other Buddhist factors in Etymonism. One such element is self-actualization, a component of Buddhism that is especially dear to my heart.
Buddha never preached that people could expect miracles or that praying for something automatically makes it happen. Similarly, Poesy does not grant miracles without effort. She won’t fix things you can fix on your own; all prayers have a price. You are in charge of reaching enlightenment or making positive changes in your life.
In some ways, the evolution of Etymonism also mirrors the development of Buddhism. Before the Lotus Sutra, which Nichiren Buddhism is based on, it was believed that only certain people could reach enlightenment. Others could support the mission but had to wait for their next reincarnation to get a chance.
The Lotus Sutra revealed that enlightenment is possible for everyone if they work hard, take refuge in the three jewels, and perform meritorious deeds. Nichiren Daishonen, the founder of Nichiren Buddhism, streamlined this by encoding the messages of the Lotus Sutra in the mantra nam myoho renge kyo.
Earlier in High Poetry, only Bestowed Poets could learn High Poetry, but this was later found to be untrue. Certain people, unskilled at birth, could learn this through extreme effort and sacrifice; these are Inculcated Poets.
Cerie is an Inculcated Poet who worked hard to develop her skills. I chose to focus on her throughout the series because I wanted to demonstrate this concept of “enlightenment” being open to the everyday person.
But of course, High Poetry is currently limited to women, though Etymonism later accepts lay poets into their ranks. In the future, can men obtain this skill too? It’s possible.
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Shintoism is another essential element of this spiritual system.
It’s no coincidence that Poesy is seen as an unknowable, untouchable deity, more like an ever-present spirit than a personified goddesss. She is an elemental force who wrote the world but cannot be directly talked to or interacted with.
This comes from my interest in Shintoism. The Japanese folk religion plays a critical role in many Japanese Buddhist schools, including Nichiren Buddhism.
Shinto spirits (kami) are often more elemental in nature, not necessarily something one can see in a specific form. A spirit may take shape in a tree, a sword, or a river; it is like amassed life force in these places or items.
I mostly became turned on to Shintoism through the game Touken Ranbu, which does personify kami. More precisely, it focuses on tsukumogami, which are household objects or utensils that can gain a spirit after 100 years of steady service.
The game gives a variety of famous Japanese katana their own bodies and personalities; it has been crucial for reinvigorating interest in Japanese history and traditional swordsmithing. I, for one, did not care a whit about Sengoku-era politics or different sword classifications before falling in love with this series.
Another critical component of Shintoism is that spirits aren’t necessarily good or bad. They’re performing their roles and keeping balance in nature, which may not always bode well for humans.
Similarly, Poesy isn’t depicted as benevolent or all-loving. She is about maintaining the flow of history and ensuring everything is calibrated rather than lavishing luck on her favored people.
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Lastly, Catholicism informs Etymonic aesthetics.
Few can argue that Catholic iconography and architecture are not breathtaking. Soaring cathedrals, sacred relics, and the many epithets of the Virgin Mary have become inseparably entwined with cultural consciousness, so it’s no surprise that one finds these in my work.
Though I’m a Western Buddhist, I’m a product of my culture nevertheless, and America has a strong Catholic church. I’ve always been drawn to the trappings of Catholicism despite not agreeing with the religion in most aspects.
Given that Breme is heavily influenced by Celtic culture, and Irish Catholicism is its own cultural monolith, it only made sense to incorporate many of its themes.
One sees this influence primarily in the “Amen, amen, amen” responses that are ubiquitous throughout High Poetry prayers, which come after the actual magic. However, I also based the architecture of meronyms on Catholic churches, giving a sense of awe and beauty.
Additionally, Catholicism led me to introduce the idea of keeping sacred relics from saints or blessed people at meronyms or other important locales, as mentioned in Pride Before a Fall. The idea has always creeped me out, and I love creepy things.
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Eirenen is a polytheistic, nationalistic world.
While we see little about the additional countries in Eirenen, it’s mentioned that most have their own patron deities. This may seem like an odd decision to monotheistic readers, quick to assume that Poesy is the omnipotent goddess who controls everything. However, it’s important to consider the world’s context.
Eirenen is a premodern world with little communication between different societies, most of which are on their own islands or continents. While there are likely missionaries attempting to spread the word about their religion, said missionaries would be up against incredible odds, especially as most cultures are fiercely loyal to their patron deities.
As such, hundreds of gods and goddesses exist, each with their own domain. This brings up a number of fascinating questions I leave up to the readers. For example, are all these deities different faces of the same god, like the innumerable versions of the Virgin Mary? Or, to the contrary, are they all distinct beings who have chosen certain domains as their own?
When two countries fight, are their gods pitted against one another, or are they attempting to bring peace? How much contact do these gods have with each other, and are they all beholden to an even higher deity we don’t know?
I encourage you to ponder these concepts and come up with your own theories. Should you have headcanons, you can always contact me at hello@eirenicverses.com to share your thoughts.
While some of the names in The Eirenic Verses – particularly place names – are completely made up, many are derived from archaic words or titles, usually of Celtic origin. Others are a synthesis of different names that have been slightly tilted to better fit a fantasy theme.
Let’s take a look at some of the names you’ll encounter throughout the series, including some you may not have seen just yet. I’ll only go over those that have their roots in real words; you can assume most of the others are fabrications, such as Bewerian and Quirnis.
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Aleric the Dog
We don’t meet the second Aleric until the eighth book, Perseity, but Cerie mentions that she had a childhood dog named Aleric in 9 Years Yearning.
While there is technically a meaning behind this name, it does not actually matter. The real reason is that this was my dog Clark’s shelter name. (His current name is an homage to Superman, who was created in Cleveland.)
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Bannainthe Horse
Banain is a Scottish name that means “little blond one,” which is perfect for this mischievous, childlike horse! He’s the star of the show in Pride Before a Fall and remains a force to be reckoned with throughout the series.
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Cachaille
This small town near the Rimuk Mountains is mentioned in Pride Before a Fall, as it is named after one of the Five Bremish Saints.
The word “cachaille” comes from Gaelic, where it means “gate.” Later in the series, we see how the town Cachaille serves as a gateway for the events of the story.
Cerie means “a delicate bird’s whistle,” and the lucky color is green – how appropriate. I wanted a pretty Gaelic name that wouldn’t sound out of place in the real world, making it more memorable and relatable.
Korviridi is a made up portmanteau of several pieces: Corvid, to continue the bird theme; “virid,” which means green; and an extra “i” to create a better cadence.
Cerie’s name foreshadows some of her actions in the sixth book, Poesy, which is the first one I wrote, and honors one of my favorite fictional characters (more on that later). In Poesy, she works with birds several times.
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Eirenic/Eirenen
British spelling of “irenic,” meaning “favoring, conducive to, or operating toward peace, moderation, or conciliation.”
Derived from the Greek word ειρήνη (eirene), meaning “peace.” Eirene is also the name of the Greek goddess for peace, who is one of the three Horae.
In Christian theology, Irenicism is the attempt to reconcile different Christian denominations and sects in hopes of promoting harmony.
Naming the world Eirenen is a hint at the overarching goal of the series.
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Erix the Horse
If you have not yet read 9 Years Yearning, Erix is Uileac’s beloved palomino mare, known for being very intelligent and loyal.
Erix is actually a male name, the Norse form of the name Erik, which means “eternal ruler.” Not only is Erix shown as an exceptionally well-mannered horse, but she often makes decisions contrary to what Uileac would want. These are always for his benefit, though.
The “eternal” part is in reference to the fact that I simply refuse to kill off any of the horses, even long after they would naturally die in the series.
It is mentioned in the upcoming freebie story, Saint Luridalr and the Peony Phoenix, that Saint Luridalr tamed a wild horse and named it Erix, which is the inspiration for Uileac’s name choice.
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Etymonism
Later in the series, we see High Poetry coalesce into a true religion with lay adherents, similar to Buddhism’s monastic and lay orders.
Etymon means the early or “original” form of a given word. You have probably seen another form of this word quite often: etymology, which is the study of a word’s evolution.
By naming the religion Etymonism, the High Poets are acknowledging that their goddess wrote the first or original word. They are perptually striving to understand her cosmic writings, to uncover the origins of their fates, and to predict what the future might be based on Poesy’s past “writings.”
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Glarus the Bartender
We briefly meet Glarus, proprietor of the Swordsman Society, in Pride Before a Fall; he also mentioned in the third book and returns in the seventh book, Shadow and Sword.
Glarus is named after the New Glarus Brewing Company, a Wisconsin craft brewery. I’m not a big beer drinker, but I am a huge fan of their Moon Man brew.
If you’ve never heard of New Glarus, there’s a good reason: their beers are only available in the state of Wisconsin. Absolutely worth it to visit Mars Cheese Castle and pick yourself up some ale.
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Haniya Aina
Haniya is the princess of Sina, and her name means joyful and happy. As you will come to see starting in the sixth book, Poesy, most of the important Sinan figures have ironic names.
“Aina” is a name used in many different cultures, most of which also have similar meanings to happiness and beauty. However, the closest meaning for Haniya is the Hawaiian word “aina,” meaning land. It’s typically seen in the phrase “aloha aina,” meaning “love of the land.”
We shall see that Haniya has a complicated relationship with her country, another ironic twist.
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Meronym
In the Eirenic Verses, these are the religious centers for the High Poets, often dedicated to a specific poet of old. While it’s a beautiful and poetic term that sounds perfect for fantasy, it is actually a real word.
Meronym means a term that is used to specify a whole, like “giving your hand in marriage.”
Later in the series, High Poets are asked to take refuge in the 9 Syllables: Poesy, the Eytmom, and the meronym. This echoes the three jewels of Buddhism (the Buddha, the dharma, and the sangha). Just like “the sangha” references the entire spiritual community of Buddhism, “meronym” in this pledge references the whole community of High Poets.
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Mordrek Willets
The star of the fourth book, What Is Cannot Be Unwritten, Mordrek is a Sinan spy who often falls prey to his own passions. His name derives from Mordred, a Welsh name meaning discipline and moderation.
Mordred is also a character in Arthurian legend who betrays King Arthur and is later killed by him. So as not to spoil the later books, I will simply say that Mordrek fails to meet this standard, too.
A willet is type of shoebill known for its long legs. This is also a jab at Mordrek, who is canonically very short for a man, and it continues the bird theme. Given that Cerie has an ornithological name, Mordrek’s last name shows us that he’s going to be important to Cerie (though not romantically).
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Nikeeta the Mule
We meet Nikeeta in the sixth book, Poesy. Her name means “not scared,” but Nikeeta is a total nervous wreck. Again, most Sinan characters have ironic names, including the animals.
“Orrin” derives from the Old Irish name Odrán, meaning “dun-colored.”
Yes, there is a very good reason why his horse Bannain is a dun gelding. They were meant for each other!
“-ir” is a past infinitive. You can figure out why this would be relevant to Orrinir later on in the series.
“Relickim” is made of the word “relic,” meaning to be a symbol of an older time, and “kim,” a Sanskrit question that can mean “why” or “how” depending on the sentence. Again, you’ll learn more about this meaning in the eighth book, Perseity.
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Perseity
Later in the series, we hear about the Perseity, which is a poem that a Sinan queen must recite to legitimize her rule. The term perseity means the state of being self-sufficient, representing a princess no longer leaning on the queen’s teachings and learning how to be her own ruler.
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Plexity
Plexity means the state of being composed of multiple things; the most common form of this is “duplex,” or two houses in one building.
The last book of the series is named Plexity, and the meaning in this instance is about Sinan society breaking up into multiple factions.
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Poesy
Archaic term for poetry, making it the perfect term for the goddess of poetry. However, it goes a bit deeper than that, as “poesy” comes from the Greek word poiesis, meaning the act of creation. This is an accurate description of a goddess who, throughout the series, is said to have “written the first word” and created the world.
Poesy is perpetually creating a poem that describes all of humanity, like an active form of the Akashic Records. Some people, specifically the High Poets, can suggest revisions or additions to the world-poem, which may not always be accepted. The most powerful of those – the Bremish Saints – can serve as editors or even write their own lines.
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Sagremor Mallae
Sagremor is Orrinir’s best friend, basically demanded by his name. In Arthurian legend, Sagremor was a knight of the round table and Tristan’s closest companion.
In Le Mort D’Arthur, Sagramore le Desirous is depicted as a valiant warrior, but he constantly loses jousts against the other knights. Our own Sagremor is much the same, as seen in Pride Before a Fall.
“Mallae” is made up, but it does bear a strong resemblance to the Nepali last name Malla, which means strongman or wrestler.
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Tshumanu Heian
Tshumanu is a bastardization of Tsurumaru, a character from Touken Ranbu. His last name, Heian, also nods to the real-life Tsurumaru-Kuninaga, a katana forged in the Heian era of Japan by smith Gojou Kuninaga.
The Tsurumaru-Kuninaga is an Imperial Treasure owned by the Emperor of Japan, though there is a replica at the Fujinomori Shrine, a place closely associated with the sword. I learned a lot about Japanese history during my time in the Touken Ranbu fandom, including pretty intensive study about the Tsurumaru-Kuninaga’s history.
Of course, the two have very different backstories, relationships, and plotlines. Though Tshumanu is named in honor of one of my favorite characters, he has evolved into his own character and should not be considered a replica of Tsurumaru. There are enough of those floating around.
In naming him this and giving him a few faint resemblances to the Touken Ranbu character, I wanted to honor my own history as a writer. Before embarking on the Eirenic Verses, I wrote over 1.6 million words of fanfiction, mostly Touken Ranbu. That media empire has had a huge impact on my writing skills and I’m very grateful for the time I spent in the fandom.
Uileac has several meanings depending on what etymology you accept. It may derive from the Old Norse name Hugleikr, meaning “spirited play” or “heart in the game,” or it may be the Irish form of William, meaning “resolute protector.”
All of these fit Uileac in some way. The “spirited play” aspect is seen in retrospective when Uileac writes a poem for Orrinir in Pride Before a Fall, which focuses on them playing together as teens. In that book, we also see how hard he works in any competition, no matter how silly.
“Resolute protector” becomes a stronger aspect of his personality in later parts of the series, especially in the fifth book, Absent All Light.
Uileac is lightly based on the Touken Ranbu character Uguisumaru, though the two are very different in personality and skill; pretty much all they have in common is their green hair. Uguisumaru is from the Kobizen school, so I wanted Uileac to have the same initials as my favorite character.
Like Tshumanu, Uileac is a nod to my time spent in the Touken Ranbu fandom, though he has taken on a life of his own. Those who weren’t aware of this history would struggle to recognize the similarities between the two characters.
The Touken Ranbu character is named after the uguisu bird. Cerie’s bird-themed name also reflects my love of this game, and birds are a recurring theme in the series.
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Vercingetorix
In the book series, Vercingetorix is both a famed High Poet and the name of a small town near the Rimuk Mountains. It’s the primary location of What Is Cannot Be Unwritten, the fourth book in the series (coming winter 2025).
However, this is also the name of an ancient Gallic chieftain who led a rebellion against Julius Caesar. While brave, he was ultimately defeated and executed. The High Poet Vercingetorix was also taken in battle and savaged; her mutilated relics are on display at the meronym that bears her name.
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These are the main ones, though there are quite a few others that you’ll find along the way. As we continue throughout the series, I’ll share more of the stories behind the names you see!
I discuss worldbuilding on here with relative frequency. As a second world fantasy writer, this is a topic that both fascinates and frustrates me.
So, let me share my spicy opinions on worldbuilding that I have learned through crafting The Eirenic Verses – and failing many times to do anything because I did too much worldbuilding.
Worldbuilding is the easiest part of writing a fantasy book.
I believe this is why many aspiring writers spend so much time on it and then kind of give up before even writing the book. Because it is easy.
Worldbuilding is fun, and so people get mad when you point out that it’s not the most crucial part of a story. It’s exciting, and the ideas flow quickly, and you come up with all these cool quirks and nuances.
You don’t have to engage anyone when you’re worldbuilding. You don’t have to think through plot holes or build up interesting characters; you just get to throw stuff at the wall and see what sticks.
By nature, humans want to focus on things that bring them pleasure. For some people, making characters and plots don’t bring joy because they’re too hard. So, instead, they put all their efforts into worldbuilding and then wonder why no one likes their work.
But as I have said many times, writing is hard. Focusing only on the easy things does not a compelling story make.
Only one question really matters when it comes to worldbuilding.
That is:
Why is this important?
I ask this of myself constantly. Why do I need to tell the readers this? What are they going to get out of it? I also ask this of all scenes I write, every piece of dialogue, every character, every location.
You can see why writing fiction is so hard.
Sure, it’d be easy to cram a bunch of details in, hoping readers will think it’s neat, but too much of these extraneous factoids turn people off. Then your writing feels like work because they feel like they have to memorize everything to understand what you’re saying.
In today’s society, we’re all doing way too much work in the first place. Readers are entitled to relax and not think too much, even if you infuse things with deeper meaning. Themes and symbolism, just like worldbuilding, cannot get in the way of a good story.
Sometimes I do include things just because I think readers will think they’re interesting, but they have to be related to the plot somehow.
For example, there’s a scene in the upcoming Funeral of Hopes (coming June 23, 2025), where Orrinir and Uileac participate in a sword forging ritual with High Poetry. I included this based on one piece of feedback: a reader wanted more High Poetry in the stories because it’s such an important part of the world.
I then had to find a way to make this harmonize with the ultimate plot, which is that Orrinir’s abusive estranged father is dying. I won’t give any spoilers, but it does become plot-relevant in a way you wouldn’t expect.
And, of course, you do need some downtime scenes so readers decompress. These are good times to worldbuild; characters aren’t as stressed, so they can note more of the society around them and share with the readers.
A world does not exist without characters and plot.
It doesn’t matter to anyone if they can’t connect with the characters and don’t care about the plot. You can have the coolest world concept ever, and no one will care if your characters are boring and your plot thin.
Again, I believe this is why newer writers focus so much on worldbuilding rather than characterization. They spend a lot of time creating a world without considering the lenses they’ll show it through: the main character and side characters. Because characters are hard.
They don’t know what to do with the world they have made because all they have is an entire encyclopedia of terms, locations, etc. They don’ thave characters and plots and symbolism and themes. There’s no reason for any of this to exist other than “hey, wouldn’t that be neat?”
Why do I know this? Because I did it too. I spent over 10 years making terrible characters and plots because I was too excited by worldbuilding.
I, too, did not want to do the hard work, so I dreamed up all these cool fantasy worlds and then never did them because I spent way too much time plotting and worldbuilding. Once I had what I believe is my coolest idea yet, I knew I had to knuckle down and struggle a bit.
Coming up with the basic premise of Eirenen took me maybe a day. Creating my first character – Cerie Korviridi – took weeks.
Since I wrote the sixth book of the series, Poesy, first, Cerie was my original window into the world, not Uileac or Orrinir. She had to be compelling, somewhat sympathetic, and worthy of whatever plot I created.
I had to justify why she was the most valuable introduction to Eirenen rather than anyone else. As such, I knew she needed to be deeply connected to the premise of my world: that there are people with magic poetry powers. Making her a High Poet was the obvious choice.
The High Poet Society grew around her personality, not the other way around; I created the idea of Inculcated Poets because I hate the Chosen One trope and wanted to show that she has earned her title.
Baking conflict into your worldbuilding creates an organic plot.
I started the Eirenic Verses without any factoids about the world, or any details about it at all, really.
Rather, I began with the overarching conflict. There’s two countries, one with magic and one without, and they have been at war for centuries.
When I knew this, I had to go back and figure out why the conflict started, why it hasn’t ended, what advantages each country has over the other, how much contact the two have, and so on.
From that, the ideas flowed naturally without becoming overwhelming. The conflict began because one country wanted the others’ resources. It hasn’t ended because there’s an impassible mountain range; one side sees it as sacred and the other sees it as a nuisance. Neither of them can fully breach it because they don’t have flight, and the mountains are so steep that no one could possibly shlep an entire army up there.
They’re evenly matched because of their different strengths: Breme has magic, Sina has technology. They rarely have contact except at one part of the mountain range, though both attempt to get past this through espionage.
Refusing to do extra work makes your life easier – and your work more enjoyable.
You may have noticed that the posts specifically about Eirenen have slowed lately. That’s because I have already told readers most of what they need to know and don’t have as much to share.
What you know is what I know. I didn’t make anything else up because I didn’t need to or want to. Those things aren’t going to be in the stories, so why do they matter? They don’t.
Some authors may sniff at this. “Why don’t you have a complete timeline of Bremish history, date by date? Why can’t you tell us the exact geography of both countries?”
Because I don’t need it, and most readers don’t care. If I made those things up, I’d feel the urge to stick it in my books somewhere, and everyone’s eyes would glaze over.
All the time I would spend coming up with these details that don’t matter is time I cannot spend writing my books. Unless I decide to produce a world lorebook (which I don’t want to), then that’s wasted time.
And some people like my approach. Here’s a review from 9 Years Yearning over on Goodreads:
I think about my books a lot like a View-Master, where I force depth into something that is, in reality, relatively flat and basic. The worldbuilding appears deep because I didn’t outline everything in exhaustive detail; I let things be glimpsed and hinted at.
After all, that’s how things are in real life. We know that there’s a big wide world out there, but few of us take the time to dive deep into every single facet of life. We see flashes of cultures beyond our own, but we have our biases. All of us focus on the things that are most immediately relevant to us because they directly impact our well-being. In writing, I do the same.
Visceral, physical details are more interesting to the reader.
When I think about any books I have read, I tend to think of the hard facts and descriptions they gave me rather that abstract constructs about how the world works. Even if I forget the specific names of things, I do remember how I felt and envisioned what the author gave me.
In fact, sometimes I forget the name of the book entirely, but I still think about the intriguing little facts about the world. I remember there was this book I read in grade school where two kids fell into an underground society through a washing machine, and they immediately had to take a bath in a phosphorescent pool.
Another book I completely forgot the name of was one I picked up at a dollar store, set in Nazi Germany. The mother of the protagonist had a sexual relationship with a kitchen knife, and she’d stab herself for gratification. It was so shocking that it has stuck with me for decades, long after I misplaced the book.
Knowing how interesting these details can be, I work hard to place them in my books rather than focusing on things like political schemes, magical rules, and so on.
I want my readers to feel the heat and press of Goldnin, to see themselves in the protagonists’ home, to shiver at the oppressive rainstorms during a Bremish spring. I hope that these things will stay with the reader long after they put away the book, after they’ve forgotten the character names or the plots.
This, to me, is more important than mythologies, lists of magical animals, or complicated relationships between different characters.
Ultimately, there is no one way to worldbuild.
Whether you’re doing the gritty politics-with-dragons like Game of Thrones, the sarcastic social commentary of Discworld, or the steampunk thrillers of The Bas-Lag Trilogy, your imagination is what really brings things to life.
But. There are ways to worldbuild that help build a rich, engaging experience, and ones that read more like a Wikipedia article with a plot plunked in as an afterthought.
My worldbuilding method may not work for you, and that’s okay. Every fantasy writer is different. However, keep asking yourself that one question, over and over again, as you write.
Why is this important?
You will likely find, as I have, that this singular question can completely revolutionize your work. By being intentional with your worldbuilding, you can make the process more enjoyable both for you and your readers.