They say you should write what you know. That’s always struck me as an awkward bit of advice for authors of speculative fiction. If we all followed it, SF/F would be a hell of a lot less interesting. Galactic cruisers would give way to minivans. Werewolves would be swapped out for Pomeranians. Shape shifting would consist of wriggling into last year’s skinny jeans. 

That being said, I’m lucky enough to have the kind of day job that I can draw on in my writing. My work has sent me to some pretty interesting places over the years, many of them affected by violent conflict. Often, it’s been my job to analyse that conflict – its history and causes, players and agendas. Doing so has taught me a lot about war, and politics in general. 

It isn’t that I’ve had any epiphanies, exactly. Most of the things I’ve come away with are instinctive on at least some level. But it’s safe to say that I’ve reflected on them, metabolised them, in ways I probably wouldn’t have otherwise. No surprise, then, that all of them feature to a greater or lesser extent in THE BLOODBOUND series. 

Here, in no particular order, are five things I’ve learned about war that have enriched my writing: 

 1) There is always someone who profits – Seems obvious, doesn’t it? But you’d be amazed how many well-meaning peacemaking efforts ignore this central fact. Wars generate their own economies. They shift the balance of power, presenting new opportunities to those clever and ruthless enough to capitalise on them. Some will seek to align themselves with a rising power. Others will find more advantage in keeping the war going for as long as possible. Oftentimes it’s these people, rather than the belligerents themselves, who define the course of the conflict, and pose the greatest threat to peace. 

 2) Knowing your enemy is more complicated than it seems –  There’s a tendency in fiction (as well as in modern journalism) to portray war as a clash between two sides with clear objectives. That’s rarely, if ever, the case. Wars are not fought between homogeneous actors with straightforward, static agendas. They’re fought between blocs, shifting confederations of stakeholders with differing, sometimes competing, interests, and those interests evolve over time. And I’m not just talking about alliances here – I mean within states as well, and within governments, cabinets, inner circles – to an almost infinitely reducible level, like a Russian nesting doll. That makes it difficult to interpret your enemy’s behaviour. What appears on the surface to be baffling inconsistencies may be the waxing and waning of influence between factions. The person you believe to be your arch-nemesis might actually be powerless, little more than a figurehead. By the same token, your allies – even your own closest confederates – might not be as firmly in your corner as you think. 

 3) The good guys never win – Where there is war, there will be war crimes. I can’t think of a single conflict that wasn’t full of them. And not just by the “bad guys”. Some of my greatest historical heroes are, by any modern definition, war criminals. I’ve struggled with that, but I’ve come to accept it, however uncomfortably. That’s because when it comes to the difficult questions, there are no good choices. Show me a victor, and I will show you someone who has waded hip deep into a moral quagmire. (Show me a political settlement, and I’ll ask you to get back to me in twenty years. Cynical, I know.)