What drives your art? What forces you, rides you, hustles you, controls you until its latest needs have been met? What really drives you to create speculative fiction art, be it words or images?

I have always been better at expressing myself through the written word than through any other medium. I have strong opinions and things to say, and I do it through fiction and poetry and my career, journalism. Sometimes I’m driven by something I feel strongly about, say freedom or political issues or reality or whatever. Call it soul searching, just me trying to work out things in my own head. Fiction is a great way to do that, to explore other points of view, or even your own. Sometimes, though, all I want to say is “Sit back and enjoy some slam-bam action.” But whatever mode I’m in, writing something is usually my most effective way of expressing it.

If there was the possibility of becoming any speculative fiction character ever created (except your own), would you? Who? Why?

Would I trade spots with a fictional character? Nah. My life is too good. But I’d do a short-term swap with Capt. James T. Kirk any day. Kirk is in command, he has a good crew with him and they explore reality in the U.S.S. Enterprise. What is not to love?

If you could only take one author’s works compressed on an e-book reader on a “one-bag-only” one-way trip to another galaxy, whose works would it be and why?

Any technology that could get me to another galaxy could certainly accommodate more than one authors’ works. Next question, please.

Why ‘The Faceless Sons’? What initiated their story and made you complete this particular tale?

I write stories about the Faceless Sons — three masked brothers who have vowed to destroy the demons unleashed by their sorcerer father — because they give me a great way to explore themes of heroism and bravery. Why do people fight? What things merit fighting, even dying? All three of my Faceless Sons have vastly different reasons for taking the oath and donning the mask. In “The Mask Oath,” I wanted to say a few things about perceptions of honor and duty, and how those can sometimes blind us to what is really important. The hero of that tale gives up a great deal for reasons that, ultimately, matter very little. Of course, I wanted to do all that soul searching in the context of a lot of rip-roaring sword-and-sorcery mayhem, because that’s what I do.

In the privacy of your favorite writing nook, do you act out your protagonist’s actions? Do you know how to use his weapons? Do you wear his clothes? Do you talk like him?

I do not act out scenes, but I do often speak dialogue aloud. It is a great way to determine whether your dialogue really sounds like dialogue. I do occasionally use war-gaming miniatures to diagram and play out a complicated fight scene. It’s a good way to avoid leaving a bad guy alive by accident. Oh, and I own swords and know a thing or two about their proper use.

Quick: List your first thought as your answers to these questions about the future of genre fiction:

Printing Methods: Offset or Print-on-Demand?

Both.

Reading Formats: Electronic or Print?

Both.

Book Tours: Physical or Virtual?

Both.

Reading Habits: Dead, Dying, Alive, Growing?

Alive, but barely.

Length: Flash, Short, Novella, 1970’s novel (60k), 1980’s novel (80k), 1990’s novel (120k), 2000’s novel (150k)

All.

Robert E. Howard, Jack London, Ernest Hemingway, Edgar Allan Poe, Fritz Leiber, Karl Edward Wagner, Louis L’Amour, Frederick Faust, Ian Fleming, Dashiell Hammett, Raymond Chandler, Edgar Rice Burroughs, Rafael Sabatini . . . the list could go on. Some lived long lives, some flared and burned out young. All lived life hard. All wrote pulse-pounding action-adventure, often dipping into the many different genres they share, yet each eventually establishing their name within a specific one. What do you believe you have in common with these authors, and what makes you so sure speculative fiction – heroic fantasy fiction to be precise – is your genre? Or is it?

What I have in common with them is simple: I’ve read and loved a great deal of what they wrote! I have learned much from them, I think. Heroic fantasy certainly seems to be my forte; most of my success has come in that genre. I don’t believe in limiting myself, though, and so I’ll always be pressing. For example, I write poetry these days, mostly because I have a great damned fear of doing so. I’ll never abandon heroic fantasy because I love it too much, but I’ll always be doing other things, too.

Thanks for answering candidly and sharing your insights, Steve. Now get back to writing Calthus, would ya?!

Steve Goble’s short fiction has appeared in numerous venues, and his Calthus story “The Gods-Forsaken World” was an honorable mention in “The Year’s Best Fantasy and Horror 2007″ edited by Ellen Datlow, Kelly Link and Gavin J. Grant. You can learn more at his website Swords Against Boredom.

Review Praise for “The Mask Oath”

“…one of the most intense and violent selections…it…up-ends readers’ expectations about its avenger’s true motives.” ~ Ryan Harvey

An excerpt

Dried flesh and brittle bone crackled as the Faceless Son drove the demon’s skull upon the blackened stake.

The man in the bloodstained white mask contemplated the impaled head. It stood in a row with three others, ghastly trophies mounted before the great fortress city.

The dead quartet stared at him as he hefted his massive warhammer to his shoulder. Scaly, petrified flesh clung stubbornly to the skulls, for not even crows would eat this foul meat.

From the walls of Brythane, soldiers and clerics and whores and laborers peered at him. Above them, from a balcony, his king and queen looked down with grave countenances. All of Brythane wished to see whenever one of the Faceless Sons returned. They watched in hushed awe; Gharan’s sons had been the first to take the mask oath in centuries. The mask was a symbol of dedication, of a vow made kneeling before the gods. Those who wore the oath mask renounced much of what was enjoyable in life and declared themselves willing to die in pursuit of their quests. Such mighty oaths were seldom made in these days of peace and plenty…

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