I finished Brigands and Breadknives by Travis Baldree this past weekend, the third book in a series kicked off by Legends and Lattes. It was a very interesting entry in the series, largely due to its deviation from the main character of the previous books and also its increase in stakes (Legends and Lattes being one of the forerunners in the Cozy Fantasy trend). I’d say stay tuned for a review of it but between the DnD campaign and building a backlog to make sure you have stories while I go on a vacation later this year, I don’t think I’ll have time for that.

However, I do want to talk about something really great and also super frustrating that Brigands and Breadknives does. See, the story largely focused on the timid Fern, a bookseller who has grown listless with her life, and the millennia old Astryx One-Ear, an elf whose age has seen her to become largely fixed in her path in life. Fern, through some a drunken mishap, accidentally ends up travelling with Astryx early on in the novel and, through some frustrations and relationship growing pains, the pair come to care for one another. By the end they’ve both helped each other, with Fern having the confidence to pursue what she wants, and Astryx seeing that she’ll be happier if she actually cares for and involves herself with those that she is helping.

If that sounds at least a bit like a drunk bard finding purpose and dealing with her trauma by helping a depressed Landian who doesn’t know what he’s doing with his life anymore then you’re on your way to understand my joy and frustration.

A thing I like to think any writer would tell you is that it can be so frustrating reading other works because you often will zero in on how that story is doing something better than you. Travis Baldree does with Fern and Astryx what in many ways I’m trying to achieve with Keto and Quartes, and is doing it fully realized in a completed novel.  Whereas I’m still feeling at the boundaries and also developing my language for describing all those moments. It’s frustrating because reading the book made me feel like I’m just not quite there yet.

Before I let my woe rantings get away from, yes I do know that there’s a huge difference between a completed work (with all the polish applied throughout the process of getting it published) and me throwing up stories on the internet. Furthermore, largely the whole point of Fey and Bard is that I’m practicing to grow my skill and I do think I’m succeeding there.

Which brings me tot he flip side of my frustration from seeing Brigands and Breadknives succeed at a version of what I’m trying to do.  Which is the fact that a story about two people, travelling the wilds, helping each other through trauma, and growing close seems to have been quite popular. Therefore, my take on such a story can work, and even more so, be popular. That’s reassuring and worth a bit of joy because it a way it’s a vote of confidence.

So, ultimately I think the lesson here is that this is why as a writer you get benefits from reading the works of others. I found something that in many ways, though admittedly not in all, does something I want to do and does it well. I’m certainly going to return to Brigands and Breadknives in a bit and do another read through with a critical eye, and a page full of notes. That way I can use this to make me a better writer.

Go forth and do good things,

Sean