A. L. Butcher is the British
author of the Light Beyond the Storm Chronicles fantasy series and several short stories in the fantasy and fantasy romance
genres. With a background in politics, classical
studies, ancient history and myth her work combines aspects of all. A lifelong
storyteller, she believes the tale is all and loves to create people and worlds.
She is an avid reader and creator of worlds, a poet, and a dreamer. When she is grounded in
the real world she likes science, natural history, history, and monkeys. Her work has been described as ‘dark and
gritty’ and her poetry as evocative.
Interview
Tell us a little about yourself?
HelloJ
I’m A.L. Butcher, fantasy author, poet, blogger, historian, and dog-mummy. I
live in Bristol (in the UK) and write mostly adult sensual dark fantasy, short
fantasy but dabble in horror, poetry and historical fantasy. I love to read,
study history, mythology and potter about in the mud-pit – er that’s my garden at the moment J I work full-time in an office (BORING), but I
write when I can and also promote other authors on my blog.
If you could have written any other book
by any other author, what would it be, and why?
Oooh
that’s hard. If I had to pick one, it would either be Lord of the Rings or the
Count of Monte Cristo. LOTR for the amazing world building and mythic style,
COMC for the ultimate historical revenge book.
What are you reading at the moment?
Would you recommend it to readers of this blog? Why?
Currently, I am reading a book about the
royal families of Ancient Egypt, which is interesting but heavy going, and a
book about life in the Victorian period, comparing it with modern life ( I guess
you could call it a social commentary.) https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B01MSUNBA6/
The Good Old Days: Poverty, Crime and Terror in Victorian London. It’s
interesting to see not much really changes. Social attitudes do shift a little, but human nature is still much the same. Today we are told that computer games,
violent films, the internet etc are ‘corrupting’ our youth and society and 150
years ago it was the lack of religion, penny dreadfuls and plays etc. Whatever is new
or misunderstood gets blamed for the ills of society, social change brings fear
and upheaval and often a particular group in a community get blamed – whether
that group is of a particular religion, gender, skin colour, ethnic minority,
sexual orientation or whatever ‘they’ are responsible for the failing economy, social divides, rising crime and all
the other issues which occur when human beings live together in large numbers.
It’s always been the case, and I dare say always will be. Basically, the author is saying that the ‘Good
Old Days’ weren’t. They were much the same as now – only with less technology,
worse hygiene and medical care and equally gullible people.
That one I’d
recommend, not sure about the other one yet. I
read a lot of historical stuff, especially true crime, plus fantasy, historical
fiction/mystery, science fiction and whatever else takes my fancy at any given
time.
If you could have dinner (and dessert)
with any fictional character who would it be and why?
I’d have a dinner party
with the following: Edmund Dantes, Erik (Phantom of the Opera), Heathcliff,
Tempus, Gandalf, Frodo, Sam Vimes, Granny Weatherwax, Jane Eyre, and Penelope
of Ithica. That would be a very interesting party! Why? All sorts of reasons:
They could discuss vengeance, loyalty, war and its
effects, magic, the question of good and evil, and what they would do in
today’s world if they existed now. (Jamie's note: Can I come to the party?)
What was the hardest part of writing
your book?
PromotionJ I find the marketing
hard; it’s much easier for me to promote other people’s work than my own. I
completed a diploma in social media marketing last year, so that’s helped but I
do still find it a challenge. I also have issues staying focused. I’ve been
diagnosed with fibromyalgia and with that comes issues with concentration on
the task at hand. To be honest I’ve
always had a few issues with being easily distracted, but it’s worse now. I
really need to switch off social media when I’m writing, but I can and do
listen to music sometimes.
Do you have a day job in addition to
being a writer? If so, what do you do
during the day?
I
work in an office. Basically, I’m a civil
servant for the private sector. Currently,
it’s like herding cats through treacle, but it’s not always that way. I arrange
training courses for people (mostly) and that’s time-consuming
but actually worthwhile. Most of the
people are nice, and the office is fairly close to where I live. As I can’t drive and have to rely on public
transport or my bicycle (if I’m up to it) being close to home is worth staying
for.
Tell us a little about your plans for
the future. Do you have any other books
in the works?
Lots. I usually work on a
few projects. Currently, I have book IV
of the series, a second Legacy of the Mask short story, and a couple of
novellas in progress. I’m written a few more poems recently too, so when I have
enough they will be the second installment of Shattered Mirror.
Where can we find you online?
I have only supplied the links
to Book I of the Light Beyond the Storm Chronicles,
if you would like further info please look at my Goodreads, Amazon or blog profiles.
Social
Media links
The Light Beyond the Storm Book I
The
Shining Citadel – The Light Beyond the Storm Book II
Ebooks available here:
The Light Beyond the Storm Chronicles – Book I
In a dark world
where magic is illegal and elves are
enslaved, a young elven sorceress runs for her life from the house of her evil
Keeper. Pursued by his men and the corrupt Order of Witch-Hunters she must find
sanctuary. As the slavers roll across the lands stealing elves from what
remains of their ancestral home, the Witch-Hunters turn a blind eye to the
tragedy and a story of power, love and a terrible revenge unfolds.
18 rated.
Excerpt
Olek stayed in shadow and walked in
silence, forever gaining upon his prey. As Petrus stepped towards the door, he
was suddenly grabbed with a gloved hand across his mouth. He saw the edge of a
crossbow bolt in the sleeve attached to the hand now gripping his hair as he
tried to turn his head and was dragged back behind the house. As he struggled,
a voice said close to his ear, “At this range I reckon I can hit the door
yonder. Your brain will merely impede the speed it hits. Struggle, lad, and I
will test my theory.”
The young man was forced into a small
empty courtyard with no windows overlooking it, as it was full of rubbish and
refuse. The voice in his ear said, “How nice privacy…”
The hand was removed from his mouth and
Petrus blustered, “Who do you think you are, common thief? I will see you
flogged through the streets then hanged. My father is an important man! Unhand
me.”
Petrus found himself with a sharp blade
pressed against his groin, the deadly edge close to his privates. He could feel
the weight of the blade pressing into him. The shadows played around him and
the voice in his ear softly replied, “Unhand me? Please, could you not think of
less of a cliché? Move or scream and your balls will be rolling in the gutter
before the cry is finished.” The young man tried to turn and felt the edge of
the blade press against him again and the voice hissed, “The city guard would
never find me, for I am the shadows.
Now who would this illustrious father be that I am to be so afraid of?”
Trying to look down and as he moved, the swift
edge of the blade split the silk of Petrus’ breeches. “My father's men will
hunt you down,” he managed, now feeling distinctly less brave.
Olek yawned loudly. “By all means, call
his men. They will be hunting a shadow, a ghost. Much expense will be used, to
no avail. How much is your life worth to him, do you think? Not only do you
deem it suitable to rape young women and brag about your prowess to your
friends, but really, you are extremely dull in conversation. If you answer my
questions, you might yet live. Believe me when I say I could take you to a man
who would not be as…merciful as I, for what you have done and said. A man who
could no doubt keep you alive for some while, although I doubt you would be in
much of a state to enjoy that life. Now who are you? This young lady whom you
found so…enjoyable, where is she?”
With the blade against his skin, Petrus’
courage failed him. His voice trembled as he whispered, “I am Petrus, son of
Lord Renfrew. The girl, the little virgin whore, she is in the Mermaid. She was
just an elf. I paid the price thus she was mine.”
There was a hiss from behind him and the
blade moved yet closer to his balls. Suddenly there was sharp pain as the edge
scratched him, not quite breaking the skin. He whimpered and tried to back up.
The voice continued, “There was mention of an elven girl called Dii. How do you
know her? The other fellows, who were they?”
Petrus swallowed and whispered, “Just a
little slut…er…I mean, girl that I had a while ago, a Kept of Lord Tremayne,
used to share her around. Little witch warmed his bed too when that human witch
bored him. Just an elf Kept, no one of importance, just some fun for the
menfolk…the others…oh…er…fellows I just met.”
“Oh, now, lad, you were doing so well… You
seemed too intimate to be mere acquaintances.” Olek smiled beneath his cloak.
Petrus felt the blade against him and with
a whimper and a squeak, he felt the skin break and a thin trickle of blood
begin to flow, soon joined by wetter warmth as he pissed his breeches. Suddenly
the only focus was the blade against him and he squeaked, “Just a little Kept
whore, I swear, merely Tremayne’s girl. The others, oh, just Janik of Argen;
Edwaen, son of the House of Andert; and Reflin, son of the House of Sardak, the
merchant.”
Olek twisted his wrist and drew his blade
deep into the man's private parts and as he fell screaming, drew the sword
across his throat, cutting off the scream to a gurgle. Crouching, letting the
blood flow away from him, he hissed, “Women are not yours to use, elf or not. I
do not like a man who betrays his friends. This information will be most
useful.”
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