Mark Lawrence
Mark Lawrence was born on January 28, 1966, in the United States, a country whose English-language literary culture would come to form the primary context for his work as a writer. A citizen of the United States, Lawrence writes in English and has built his career within the field of fantasy fiction.
Lawrence's work as a novelist is anchored by The Broken Empire trilogy, one of his notable works. The trilogy represents a sustained commitment to long-form fantasy narrative across multiple volumes and stands as a central element of his output as a novelist writing in English.
Beyond his own fiction, Lawrence operates the Self-Published Fantasy Blog-Off, an annual event within the fantasy writing community. By organizing and running this recurring event, Lawrence takes on a role that extends beyond his identity as a novelist and connects him to a broader set of activities within the genre. The Blog-Off runs on an annual basis, making it a consistent and recurring part of his engagement with the fantasy field.
Lawrence continues to work as a novelist and as the operator of the Self-Published Fantasy Blog-Off. Both strands of his activity — his fiction, represented by works such as The Broken Empire trilogy, and his organizational role in the annual Blog-Off — define his presence within fantasy as a genre. A United States citizen born in 1966, Lawrence remains active in the field he has worked in throughout his career as an English-language novelist.
Quotes by Mark Lawrence
Mark Lawrence's insights on:
It’s an odd thing to be sad about someone in death that you never really cared for in life and a thing that chooses its own moment to sneak up on you – usually.
A man’s first taste of the poppy gives him something glorious and wonderful, something that he strives to recapture with each return to the resin, but in the end he needs to smoke it just to feel human. Life is the same for many of us – a few scant years of golden youth when everything tastes sweet, every experience new and sharp with meaning. Then a long slow grind to the grave, trying and failing to recapture that feeling you had when you were seventeen and the world rolled out before you.
I turned to the guard. “Keep her here, Rodrick. Unless she comes up with a plan to destroy the remainder of the enemy. In which case you’re to let her do it.
Anything I had to say seemed shallow beside the depth of his grief. Words are awkward tools at best, too blunt for delicate tasks.
Words are steps along a path: the important thing is to get where you’re going. You can play by all manner of rules,... but you’ll get there quicker if you pick the most certain route. Lies are complex things. Best not to bother thinking in terms of truth or lie-let necessity be your mother... and invent!
There is an unwritten rule of tube travel, understood instinctively by every Londoner from young schoolboy to doddering ancient. You pretend it’s not happening. You pretend that half a dozen strangers are not squeezing against you to a degree that is usually reserved for orgies.
They say God watches us in every moment. But I think, in some moments, when some deeds are done, he turns his face away.
The hardest lesson I ever learned was that every bad thing you see a friend do to someone else they will some day do to you.