Lucas Thorn was built by the same firm who created Voltron. Assembled somewhere in Brisbane, he was shipped to Perth where he spent much of his life putting himself back together again. Apparently instruction manuals weren't included in the purchase and he didn't have the money to pay for insurance. A lot of gaffa tape was used.
At 15, he decided to leave the workshop behind and explore the world. He didn't get very far and ended up taking jobs in video stores where he developed what is commonly referred to as "Video Store Clerk Syndrome". That is, a dry sarcasm and an addiction to splicing Police Academy scenes into Rugrats tapes and using his skateboard to cull the drama section. It's complicated.
Moving on to bookstores in hope of meeting intelligent life, he found himself being transferred all over the country before ending up in Melbourne where he currently resides. There's a lot of rain and it's always cold. Except when it's not. And then it's freezing.
Dismayed by the state of modern fantasy novels which seemed to be looking back at more traditional gender roles (involving tea drinking, tugging braids, healing powers only, and marriage as conflict resolution), he developed a nagging idea that maybe there were more people out there who might like to read an updated Conan-esque style novel with Western themes. It sounded legitimate. His lawyer didn't agree, but after a few pills were popped, it sounded awesome and a typewriter was supplied.
After getting angry with the typewriter for refusing to have a delete button, he switched to a computer and everything suddenly seemed so much easier. It even had a few computer games. Win.
Tested in a strict laboratory setting, his first fantasy novel was meticulously examined under quantum microscopes. It was then assaulted with rogue electrons. Submitted to various chemical solutions. Left inside a nuclear reactor for ten days. Mailed page by page to Steven Hawking (who sent them back with a kind letter saying he was not the Stephen Hawking Lucas thought he was). Taken to a nightclub and waved under a bouncer's nose. And finally, when every stringent test had been fully documented, it was presented to the world in the form of a pie chart.
This was promptly ridiculed by his wife who suggested perhaps releasing it as a book would be a better idea. Astounded by this wonderfully absurd idea, he thought it was so crazy it just might work. So he quickly assembled a crack team of ebook programs and made it so. Thanks, Picard.
The book was not released to much critical acclaim and Lucas soon discovered he was also invisible to his peers. This inspired a short-lived career as a Superhero called Invisiwriter, but the first thug he encountered had him arrested for assault with a deadly pen. Lucky the police couldn't see him and he made good on his escape with an armload of donuts and office stationery.
Being assembled rather than spawned, Lucas had to rely on reviews from credible sources. This proved a long wait, but finally comments trickled in which added spark to an otherwise hesitant fire. But he felt there was yet more that could be done. So he decided it should be made into a movie. A Hollywood blockbuster, in fact. With a budget of not less than 200million. That sounded right. Unfortunately, Mel Brooks refused to write the screenplay, Tarantino refused to film it, and Michelle Rodriguez called her lawyer who sent a polite, yet firm, letter explaining he was not to call her again.
Undaunted, he decided to write a sequel. Once more, he approached various members of the writing community. Joe Abercrombie asked who he was. So did Steven Erikson. HP Lovecraft turned out to be dead (when did THAT happen?), and it took too long for George RR Martin to reply. So Lucas had to write it himself.
Which is exactly what he did. Using the scientific method handed down by Robert Anton Wilson, he embarked on what would be the toughest two weeks of his life. A gruelling challenge Lance Armstrong would know all about if it weren't for the dope he had to take to avoid knowing about it. Unable to afford dope, Lucas relied instead on a heavy diet of caffeine and instant ramen (shin ram-yun!). Emerging triumphant (and smelly), he had a shower and promptly lost the manuscript down the shower hole. So he wrote another.
Which went well, all things considered.
Aware he had now invented something slightly more useful than useless, he decided to give it a name. A name which might distinguish it from the work of his peers. Peers whose work was intelligent. Finely tuned. Easy on the eye. His strange little experiments couldn't hope to live in those terrifyingly great shadows. So, he called it Swordpunk. Because he likes swords and he likes punk music. They kind of go together unless you're in a moshpit. And then it's not a good idea if you like the people you're moshing with.
Firmly fixed on the periphery of greatness, Lucas decided he'd like a soundtrack to his books. But no matter how much he tried, he couldn't contact Lux Interior despite using the best psychics he could call via their 1800 numbers.
Finally, disappointed but optimistic, he sat at his desk and imagined a new tale in the Nysta saga. A tale to herald another tale. A tale on which lives would balance. Worlds would struggle for a seat. And goblins would speak in 1940s gangsterisms. Jazzy.
Was the world ready for it? Could readers survive the journey with their minds intact?
Only time would tell.
For a brief look at the online life of Lucas Thorn, brave souls can wander over to http://www.lucasthorn.com
Wiser souls would do well to avoid it at all costs...
