Why I Chose a Slow-Building Fantasy

Behind the Story of The Tale of Two Beasts
By Richard Scorpio

Some fantasy novels begin with a battle. Others open with a murder, a prophecy, or a kingdom on the verge of destruction.

Within the first few pages, something extraordinary happens, and the reader is swept into an adventure.

I enjoy those stories.

But when I began developing The Tale of Two Beasts, I wanted to approach things differently.

I didn't want readers simply to race from one dramatic event to the next. I wanted them to spend time with the people experiencing those events.

To know them. Understand them. Appreciate their strengths and recognize their weaknesses.

And, perhaps most importantly, to care what happens to them.

That meant allowing the story to build gradually.

Slow-Building Doesn't Mean Nothing Is Happening

There's an important difference between a slow-building story and a story that drags.

A story drags when pages pass without giving the reader anything meaningful.

A slow-building story uses those pages to develop something that matters.

Sometimes that's a mystery.

Sometimes it's a relationship.

And sometimes it's an apparently insignificant conversation that reveals something about a character that won't become important until much later.

In The Tale of Two Beasts, not every meaningful moment involves magic, monsters, or danger.

A family disagreement may reveal more about someone's personality than a battle.

A quiet conversation may establish a bond that helps readers understand a difficult decision hundreds of pages later.

And a childhood memory may explain why two adults view the same situation so differently.

Those moments aren't interruptions to the story.

They are part of the story.

I Wanted Readers to Know the People Before the Adventure

The novel begins by introducing two sisters, Tessa and Sera, at different stages of their lives.

Readers witness their childhood, their unusual abilities, their affection for one another, and the responsibilities that gradually shape their relationship.

I chose that approach because I wanted their connection to feel earned.

It's easy for an author to write, "The sisters had always been close."

It's much more meaningful, I believe, to give readers the opportunity to experience that closeness for themselves.

By the time the sisters reach adulthood, I hope readers feel they've known them far longer than the pages suggest.

The same principle applies to Alden.

Rather than introducing him simply as a heroic Warden, I wanted readers to understand how he thinks.

What does he consider right or wrong?

How does he approach danger?

What does he do when the easiest solution isn't necessarily the best one?

His actions matter, but the reasoning behind those actions matters just as much.

And then there's Crystal, whose observations and independence give readers yet another perspective on the world.

These aren't characters I wanted to introduce merely so they could participate in an adventure.

I wanted readers to experience the adventure through people they had come to know personally.

Not Every Conflict Needs a Sword

Fantasy offers extraordinary possibilities.

There are dangerous creatures, unfamiliar lands, remarkable abilities, and mysteries that could never exist in our everyday world.

But some of the most difficult conflicts require none of those things.

A disagreement between people who love each other can be more complicated than a confrontation with an enemy.

An attempt to help someone may be welcomed by one person and resented by another.

A choice made with good intentions may have consequences nobody anticipated.

These situations interest me because there isn't always an obvious villain.

People can disagree without either person being entirely wrong.

They can care deeply about one another while misunderstanding what the other needs.

And they can make decisions that seem perfectly reasonable from their own perspective.

I wanted these quieter conflicts to develop alongside the larger fantasy adventure.

The magic and danger create excitement.

The relationships give that excitement meaning.

The Importance of Ordinary Moments

One of the things I wanted to preserve throughout the novel was a sense that these characters have lives beyond the immediate plot.

They have responsibilities, friendships, family relationships, habits, memories, and personal ambitions.

They can laugh together.

They can become frustrated over something trivial.

They can enjoy an ordinary evening without knowing what tomorrow will bring.

Why include those moments?

Because ordinary life gives extraordinary events perspective.

If every page contains danger, danger eventually becomes routine.

If readers never see characters happy, relaxed, affectionate, or simply enjoying one another's company, it becomes harder to appreciate what those characters have at stake.

To understand what someone might lose, we first need to understand what they have.

That's one reason I wasn't interested in rushing through every peaceful moment to reach the next dramatic event.

Sometimes the quiet moments are what make everything else matter.

A Long Story Needs More Than a Long Adventure

The Tale of Two Beasts is a substantial novel.

I recognize that its length may initially surprise some readers.

But I didn't want its size to come merely from adding more battles, more locations, or more complications.

I wanted the story to have room to develop its characters and relationships over time.

Not every change in a person happens suddenly.

Opinions evolve. Responsibilities become habits. Small disagreements grow into larger ones. Trust is strengthened—or weakened—through experiences that accumulate over months and years.

And sometimes the significance of an earlier moment isn't fully apparent until much later.

I wanted the novel to allow for that gradual development.

Of course, length alone doesn't make a story better.

A thousand pages of unnecessary repetition won't become interesting simply because the author calls it character development.

Every substantial scene should contribute something: deepen a relationship, reveal a character, advance a mystery, change a situation, or help the reader understand the world.

That was the balance I wanted to achieve.

The Story Does Not Stand Still

Choosing a gradual beginning doesn't mean the novel remains quiet.

The world of The Tale of Two Beasts contains danger, strange creatures, magical discoveries, and difficult decisions.

The characters face circumstances that challenge their beliefs and test their relationships.

As the story develops, the stakes change.

Situations that initially seem straightforward become more complicated.

The reader may begin questioning assumptions made earlier—not because the story has changed its rules, but because new information casts familiar events in a different light.

That's one of the pleasures I find in a long novel.

The opportunity to look back and realize that something you witnessed many chapters ago mattered more than you understood at the time.

And About the Ending...

There's something else I wanted to accomplish.

I didn't want readers to reach the middle of the novel and already know exactly how everything would end.

Fantasy has familiar patterns, and there's nothing wrong with them.

Readers often anticipate certain victories, reconciliations, sacrifices, or resolutions because they've encountered similar stories before.

Sometimes those expectations are part of the enjoyment.

But I wanted The Tale of Two Beasts to leave room for uncertainty.

The story follows its characters' personalities, choices, circumstances, and consequences rather than simply moving toward an ending that feels required by convention.

I won't reveal what happens.

I won't even suggest whether the ending is happy, sad, triumphant, or something else entirely.

But I will say this:

If you think you know exactly where The Tale of Two Beasts is taking you, you may want to keep reading.

The Reward of Getting to Know Someone

Ultimately, my reason for choosing a slow-building approach is quite simple.

I wanted readers to finish the novel feeling that they'd spent time with real people.

Not simply witnessed a sequence of imaginary events.

I wanted them to remember conversations, friendships, disagreements, and small moments of affection alongside the adventure.

Perhaps they'll admire one character while disagreeing with another.

Perhaps their opinions will change as the story unfolds.

Perhaps something that seemed insignificant at the beginning will take on a different meaning near the end.

That's the experience I hoped to create.

I know not every reader enjoys a gradual narrative. Some prefer immediate action and a relentless pace, and there's certainly a place for those stories.

But for readers who enjoy becoming immersed in another world, getting to know its people, and discovering how seemingly ordinary moments can acquire extraordinary significance, I hope The Tale of Two Beasts offers something worthwhile.

I didn't want readers simply to find out what happens next. I wanted them to care about who it happens to.

And sometimes, building that connection takes a little time.

— Richard Scorpio

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The Tale of Two Beasts is available on Amazon in Kindle and paperback editions.