Last night I talked to a friend of mine, who is also a writer, about what prompted us to pick up our pens. And I found out that, although we spent our nights weaving new plots, the root of our passion was of a different nature.

For him, the writing represents a sort of a gateway to memories of the past, allowing him to relieve them through the eyes of his characters.

I, on the other hand, have always thought that writing was about sharing my stories with the rest of the world. Ever since I was a child, I would imagine my own colourful worlds, often telling my silly stories to my siblings as I put them to bed.

As years went by, writing and reading became my source of comfort in a world devoid of magic. Dealing with mundane tasks, I created Alcor and Hope, which soon took on a life of their own, prompting me to open my laptop and start writing.

And so The False King was born. And I hope readers will enjoy reading it as much I enjoyed writing it.

The False King