Rambling author's note

This was the most challenging thing I've ever written. When I wrote the original drabbles, I had never planned them to lead to a long story. The drabbles were set 24 years after the end of Silver on the Tree. In other words, they were set very near the end of the story. While I saw certain things very clearly – Simon and Barney in their prison camp, Jane in her gilded cage, Bran as head of the secret police – I didn't know how they'd got to those positions.

This meant that when I decided to expand the drabbles into a longer story, I was effectively writing the story backwards. I knew where the characters ended up, but I did not yet know how they'd got there. Normally I start a story with only a vague idea of where it's going. The characters take over and usually end up taking the story to places I'd never expected them to. I couldn't let this happen in this story. Simon and Barney had to end up in that prison camp. Bran had to end up head of the secret police. And so on.

This was rendered even more complicated by my decision to adhere to anything that I'd written in the drabbles, and to change nothing. I wanted "The World to Come" to be a story expanded out of those drabbles, not a story loosely inspired by them. A single word in those drabbles could lead to a whole plot arc in the long story that resulted from them, which usually was great, but sometimes caused me trouble.

For example, Simon's entire plot arc grew out of his listlessness in the original drabble. He seemed so defeated – more so than Barney. Why? I mused about the answer, and his entire story emerged – his awful experiences at school, his high hopes in the Resistance etc. Another example comes from Jane's drabble, when she thought that Will was "one of those Resistance sorcerers." From this came the whole storyline of the Old Ones in the Resistance. From this also came the whole "sorcerer" issue – i.e. the Dark going public about the Old Ones, branding them as "sorcerers." Even though I was never entirely happy with this, I had to stick with it. Jane had thought "sorcerer" in the drabble, and this needed to make sense.

The other challenging thing about the story was the sheer length of time it covered. I normally write fairly intense stories, that cover only a few days. I rarely have more than a few hours between scenes. In this story, however, I had 24 years to cover, from 6 different viewpoints. If I wrote in my usual way, I would end up with a 10,000 page story.

I decided to write it as a collection of vignettes and short stories, each one focusing on one character alone. I felt that this was the only way I could cover the time properly, and also this fitted in with the feel of the original drabbles. However, this caused its own problems. I was seeing a snapshot of a character aged 17, and was then not seeing them again until I glimpsed them aged 26. It was a challenge to keep hold of the characters. It also meant that every single chapter was like chapter one of a new story. I always find beginnings hard, but in this story, I had 51 beginnings.

Yet, at the same time, it was a really enjoyable experience to write. It took me a long time, but I made it.

I am now jumping into Diana Wynne Jones fandom to write a sequel to "A tale of two wizards." After all this angst, some quirky comedy-adventure is just what I need.

___

Original drabbles:

Memories

"Do you remember," Simon asked, "what it was like… before?"

Barney chewed his dry bread. Sunlight. Colour. Smiles.

"Of course, you were just a child. I envy that, sometimes. It's worse, remembering."

Barney smiled. "But you're wrong, Simon."

Sunlight dancing on water. Children laughing. A leaf in autumn. A brush moving on canvas, and mother's smile.

"Memories are like paintings," he said. "They make the world seem less bleak."

"Or make the darkness seem darker." Simon curled his chained fist. "Things won't change. Better not to hope."

"Never think…"

But the overseer returned, and there was no more talking that day.

___

Chains

He was chained at last.

The lords of Darkness lurked behind every throne. The four who stepped from behind the curtain were a power not even he could resist.

The least of them turned to the brown-haired general who thought he ruled the land. "Oh, well done, sir. This will shatter them forever. Their last sorcerer." His grabbed Merriman's chin. "The last of your kind, Old One. Think on that, in your eternity of despair."

Laughing, they blasted him out of time, but they never touched his secret, locked in his heart. It, too, was chained.

Not the last. One remains.

___

In the mirror

Once, he had been unloved. Once, he had been powerless.

Then the foul sorcerers had come, to make him their slave. They wanted the world to stay as it always had been, but why on earth would he want that? That world was teasing and loneliness, and so he had raised his sword, turned on those false friends…

And the world had fallen into place around him.

Those who had once teased him now fawned on him, or trembled. "It's better this way," he said.

The face in the mirror looked back at him, and did not know how to smile.

___

Gilded cage

Far below her golden balcony, a man was on the run, shot at by Pendragon's men.

Jane turned away, and the same man appeared before her, dirty and bloodied. Jane clapped her jewelled hand to her mouth. "How did you…?"

Sorcery. It had to be. But weren't the sorcerers dead? A sorcerer from the Resistance. But her brothers had already… It would break her mother's heart if she… That's why she had married…

"Please…" Leave me, she meant to say, but, "Please save me…" The words wrenched out of her throat.

He nodded once. "But another first." And then he was gone.

___

Second meeting

The most feared man alive stood alone on a threshold.

Will readied himself in the shadows. For years, Merriman had forbidden Will from doing this, but Merriman was gone. Will was leader of the Resistance now, the only Old One left in the world…

And very possibly a monumental fool.

Fifteen years ago, the Dark had come rising, and the Dark had won. Cruelty and terror had claimed the world, but Will had never given up hope, and never would, until… Unless…

Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward. "Hello, Bran."

Bran raised his hand. "Will Stanton," he said, and he smiled.