Ten years in print!

We're moving house, just around the corner. My youngest daughter needs more downstairs space to accommodate the needs rising from her disability.

So, chez Lawrence it's all boxes (mostly full of books) and the discovery of things for which the fact of being unseen and unused for 10 years still isn't sufficient evidence on which to throw them away.

One discovery has been copies of the issues of the first two magazines I had fiction published in.

I was first in print (on paper) in Fictitious Force magazine issue 2, 2006, under a pen name. And there beside the copy in a $1 frame is the check they sent me. My first earnings from writing fiction. $34.

Fantasy magazine was my next score, also 2006.

Fictitious Force went out of business a year or two later. Fantasy magazine was in print only from 2005-2007, moving online thereafter and combining with Lightspeed in 2012.

So that was 10 years ago.

I had two copies of each. I've chucked one, but somehow I want to let the copies pictured gather dust unread for another 10 years...

The Self-Published Fantasy Blog-Off results!

We have a winner!
#SPFBO

The Self-Published Fantasy Blog-Off started a year ago and thanks to the sterling efforts of ten great bloggers we have a winner.

The reviews, the books, and the blogs are all linked on this table. (click scores to get reviews)

Scores for the finalists: The Matrix!

	Bookworm Blues	Elitist Book Reviews	Fantasy Faction	Fantasy Book Critic	Lynn's Books	The Fictional Hangout	Beauty in Ruins	Bibliotropic	The Speculative Book Review	Fantasy Book Review
The Thief Who Pulled on Trouble's Braids (8.00)	6.5	7	8	8.5	8	8	8.5	8	9*	8.5
Blood Rush (7.75)	8*	7	8*	7.5	9*	8	6	8.5*	7	8.5
The Weight of a Crown (7.30)	6	5	7.5	8	8	7.5	8	8	7	8
City of Burning Shadows (7.15)	6	8*	7	7	7	7	6.5	8	7	8
Sins of a Sovereignty (7.15)	7.5	5	6	9*	6.5	8.5*	8	6.5	7	7.5
What Remains of Heroes (7.00)	4	4	6.5	8	6.5	7	8.5*	8.5	8.5	8.5*
Shattered Sands (6.70)	6	4.5	7.5	6	6	8	8	6	8	7
Under a Colder Sun (6.60)	6	4.5	5	6.5	7	7	8	7.5	7.5	7
Priest (6.30)	6	3	7.5	7	6.5	7	6	8	6	6
A Soul for Trouble (6.25)	3.5	5	7	7.5	6	6	7.5	7	7	6

* = favourite finalist

Results summarized

Mike McClung's novel The Thief Who Pulled On Trouble's Braids is our champion. There's no prize save a review from each blogger, but our bloggers proved so generous that all of the finalists have at least 6 reviews.

It's worth noting that although TTWPOTB got the highest average rating and the highest individual rating (9), and was the favorite book of one blogger, second place Bloodrush also got a 9 and was the favourite book of 4 bloggers!

In fact half the books were the favourite reads of at least one blogger.

The most divisive books appears to have been Sins of a Sovereignty and What Remains of Heroes, both of which were the favourite reads of 2 bloggers, scoring 8.5s and a 9, and yet ranking joint 4th and 6th respectively. So even books quite far down this list made very favourable impressions on some of our bloggers and may well rock your world!

What next?

The first thing to say is: How about you read some of these yourself? The whole exercise was to shine a light on good self-published fantasy. Light shone! Many of these books are free or very inexpensive, and all of them would seem to be good value even if they were priced more in line with the traditionally published market.

If you like what you read, then talk about the book/s, review them, give them a chance to reach a bigger audience.

The second thing is the SPFBO 2016!

What's it all say about self-published books?

Well that's a big unknown, but I'm sure there will be some blog posts about it and I will link them here.

Clearly the standard among the finalists was pretty high. Even our most critical blog site (Elitist Book Reviews) gave out a 7 and 8. Our winner, Mike, now has a publishing deal with Ragnarok, not that traditional publishing is the end goal of every self-publisher.

I read our second placed finalist, Bloodrush, and reviewed it. There's no question that there are books among these 10 finalists that are better than some of the traditionally published books I've read over the past few years. I hope to read our winner too this year.

Whether we've uncovered the hoped-for gem that will take off into mega-success, time will tell. Or perhaps if there's a SPFBO2 our Hugh Howey / Anthony Ryan / Martin Weir / Michael Sullivan is waiting in the next 300 books...

In the end it remains only for me to say that although I get a lot of thanks for the SPFBO the truth is that I've done very little. The vast bulk of the time and effort put in has been by the ten blog sites, many of them individuals, some teams, who have done a brilliant job, reading a great number of books, despite the sometimes stormy seas of their own lives, and providing close on a hundred reviews of self-published fantasy books over the course of the year.

Many thanks!

All readers are great - but if you're asking how to help MOST?

This was sparked by Sam Sykes' tweet:

“If you don't buy a book until the series is done, you increase the chances of that series not getting done. Publishers just see bad sales.”


There are many reasons why books can fail. What's undeniable is that some series, trilogies etc are bailed on. The publishers jump ship and the reader is left holding one or two books.

In Spain you can only buy Prince of Thorns. In the Netherlands just Prince and King of Thorns.

Undeniably, an author can put out one book, or two (or five) then make you wait an age for the next. I can think of examples of all these. I won't name the author who put out a successful book 1 alongside my debut in 2011 and dropped book 2 in 2014, but the wait for Rothfuss' book 3 and GRRM's book 6 are the stuff of genre legend.

So, yes, there is a risk in jumping in. But the flip side is that if you don't jump in ... the publisher may bail. It's a numbers game.

I'd like to think that the fact I've put out a book a year for 5 years and that book 6 is due in June a year after book 5, and that book 7 is written and that book 8 is 75% written, is sufficient to win readers' trust that when they buy my book the next is not going to keep you waiting too long.

Anyway. Any person that buys a book of mine at any time is GREAT. This is an info-post only, for those of you interested in how to best help an author. The answer is: buy early, read early, and talk about the books.

Join my 3-emails-a-year newsletter.  #Prizes #FreeContent

Authors and politics.

It's very hard to get anyone to pay you attention online.

That's not normally a problem as most of us don't give a damn if anyone pays attention to us online.

As an author, though, it is supposedly really quite helpful if you have a large following on one of more of the social media.

Whether this is true or not is a whole different subject and one I'll avoid here except to say that I know of several authors with large and genuine twitter followings (as big or much bigger than my own modest 12,000) who don't sell many books.

Let's assume it is true. Now, how do you get those mouses to click your links, like your comments, share your content?

Well. You could be a fabulously successful author, but that's rather the opposite of the point. The idea is that the following help you become fabulously successful. Another alternative is that you could be endlessly entertaining. You could be witty, a sharp observer of the news, a fascinating commentator on the human condition, a well-read genre raconteur, etc.

But that's ... really hard to do.

OR ... you could do politics.

When you declare a political preference (especially at either end of the spectrum) you're immediately plumbed into an extensive support network. It's rather like a church. Complete strangers will shout "Amen, brother!".

Yes, you may well alienate half the political spectrum but you'll still have half left, and half of 'everything' looks pretty attractive when all you've got is all of nothing.

Plus, the business of blogging becomes easy. You don't have to think up something new and original to write, you can just turn the handle on the outrage machine and content drops onto the page.

"SJWs ate my baby!"

"This group of two is insufficiently diverse, you BIGOT."

If you don't 'get' either of those headlines from opposing political extremes then I'm rather jealous of you.

Anyway, the fact is that joining a side in the culture war can seem like a no-brainer to an aspiring author who needs backup. I'm entirely sure that the motivations for many authors taking to political blogging are 100% genuine, born of deep convictions. I'm also sure that many jump on board, dial up their mild convictions to 11 and enjoy the ride, blog-traffic, retweets, prime spots on the 'right on' genre sites of their particular affiliation, oh my.

Edit - as an aside, one part of the outrage machine on one side of the divide is sending people to this blog with the assurance it asserts that the only reason writers talk diversity is for attention:

Given recent assertion that the only reason writers talk diversity is for attention

It's almost as if he chose not to read the line I have now highlighted in red. How easily "many authors taking to political blogging are 100% genuine" becomes an "assertion that the the only reason writers talk diversity is for attention" when you're stoking the fire  :)

The game is of course that most people who read the initial outrage won't read this - they'll accept the lying precis and stow the information away. Another enemy labelled. 

Unpack the misrepresentation a little further - our friend has ignored the fact this is a blog about authors pushing political views - from Vox Day to Requires Hate, and he has decided instead that it's about them talking diversity. Our friend has put me in the enemy camp. Lawrence hates diversity, that's all you need to know. Our friend must know he's lying. But he doesn't care - it's serving his purpose.

EDIT:

We can now add the ridiculous click-bait hack Damien G Walters to the above club:

Here's his painfully tribal tweet:
Mark Lawrence argues that authors talking about diversity is just attention seeking

Back to our regular programming:


It's a step I've never been able to take. I do have moderately strong political convictions, but they're moderate ones, and moderation doesn't sell, doesn't generate traffic, doesn't get retweeted.

Plus, I write stories. What attention is turned my way is turned my way because of tales about sword swinging and adventure. I feel uncomfortable slipping into political messaging after that. It seems too similar to the salesman at your door who gets his foot in with some tried and tested gambit before seguing neatly into double glazing.

I suppose if I really thought I could add a zero to the end of my twitter following by writing aggressively moderate blog-pinion pieces wherein I stridently declared:

THERE ARE TWO SIDES TO THIS FUCKING PROBLEM

I would probably go for it. But nobody wants to hear that an issue has as many shades of grey as soft-core bondage porn. So I won't.

The Broken Empire special edition omnibus artwork - Part 2!

Jason Chan, the artist responsible for of all my book covers (except the US Prince of Fools), is producing 9 pieces of interior art for the Broken Empire special edition. Three to be included with each book of the trilogy.

This is one of the 3 for the Emperor of Thorns section. If you've read the book you'll probably know where it fits.

This one hit me in the feels. 

Pre-order your copy of the special edition HERE.

See the other example HERE.

A rough for the cover design on the Broken Empire special edition omnibus.

You can pre-order your copy here (while stocks last). The books are expected to go into production in Spring.

When the numbered edition is sold out $10,000 is being donated to the children's hospice charity!

All editions of the omnibus are hardcover, leather-bound for the lettered edition, cloth-bound for the numbered edition. There's no dust-jacket, the cover design goes straight onto the leather/cloth. The cover design (and interior graphics) are being done by graphic designer Nate Taylor who has done great work for Patrick Rothfuss. The interior art is by Jason Chan (who did the Broken Empire covers).

This is a rough version of Nate's proposed cover design. I like how the reflection of a single thorn forms the eye's pupil.

triumph/tragedy

EDIT: I discovered this unpublished blog post from 2012 ... not sure how it escaped publication. I do remember it... Anyway, I pushed "publish" and here it is, 4 years late.

******

I don’t know many writers. I’ve met five in total, and they were a disparate handful. All of them verbally dextrous, all of them clever and thoughtful, but beyond that a diverse bunch.

Our writing experiences seem to be equally varied. Some of us agonise over each element of plot and prose, others dash it down and move on. Some focus on action, some on character, others build worlds first then populate their stage.

What I think might unite us as a common core though is that writing is hard – you need to push against an invisible something that doesn’t want to move, and doing so exhausts some secret muscle you didn’t know you had. It requires you to exercise both your imagination and your emotions, stretching both to a degree where it starts to hurt. And beyond that, the sharing of that writing - which undeniably you have put something of yourself into, something personal and generally hidden – that sharing requires courage.

There certainly are people that like to over-share. People who will assault strangers with their intimate personal details, people who with the slightest provocation will shine an unwanted light on the mechanics of their close relationships or elaborate upon the most trivial and embarrassing of their medical complications. My limited experience of writers suggests that we’re not those people. Putting ourselves out there isn't an instinct - it's a gamble, a risk.

Ernest Hemmingway famously said: “There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.” That is certainly an overstatement for me, but then again I won’t be counted a giant of literature a half century after I’m dead. It is true though that the occasions when it has felt like bleeding are the ones that led to the passages of mine that are most talked about and quoted.

To do that, and then to put it up for rejection, and failing rejection, to have it published and exposed to ridicule, requires courage. Just because you have felt something passionately, and what you wrote resonates back with you when you read it – does not mean it will echo in others or that it is well written. It’s a risk.

The penalty is nebulous and can be dismissed as insubstantial, but it has sharper edges than any reply that girl you asked to dance at the school disco ever gave you.

So to the theme of this post – Sarah invited a triumph over tragedy vibe, an insight into how life experience lensed into writing practice.


Clichés exist because there are things that are so true they bubble spontaneously from many sources. Clichés aren’t wrong, just over used. It’s a cliché to say that surviving a tragedy gives you a new perspective. The man still standing after a building has fallen all around him, or reprieved from some terminal condition, will tell us that the world looks different, that trivial concerns now seem exactly that, trivial, and will no longer tug at him. He will concentrate on what matters from now on, walk taller, be a better person.  That’s how we feel at such times. There’s a half-life to it though. Good intentions slip, resolutions slide, and the world catches hold of us again by degrees, sinking innumerable petty little hooks into us.

My tragedy was largely vicarious. It’s my daughter’s tragedy. There’s a reaction against using that word in the same breath as disability because it can seem to belittle the person, to focus on what’s been lost rather than what skills and potential they have. I agree with that sentiment. My daughter was severely disabled by complications during her birth but she loves life, is happy as often as she can be, and is a tremendously valuable and wonderful person. She even has a picture-book in the semi-finals of the Goodreads Choice Award! But, none of that changes the fact that I will always feel that the random chance that stole her ability to speak, to walk, to hold, to eat, to sit, to see a horizon, and to grow without pain, was a tragedy.

She is not tragic - what happed to her was a tragedy.

And some small part of it was my tragedy too – and it made me feel like the man in the cliché. And whilst the world has stolen away much of that feeling of invulnerability – that false conviction that you’ve faced the worst and nothing now could hurt you – I retained some small measure of that courage. And it’s that courage, bolted to my original marginal stock, that tipped my hand, made me send my manuscript out, and made me smile whenever I got a bad (or sometimes hateful) review, knowing that in the grand scheme of things, and indeed in pretty much every minor scheme of things too, it really didn’t matter much. What mattered was that I’d said what I had to say, I’d drawn my line in the sand, and whether it lasted, whether it was noticed, whether that girl at the disco said no and her friends giggled behind their hands – I had taken my chance and would not regret doing so.

Instant Gratification Takes Too Long

I invited Mike McClung to guest blog on his experience in the Self-Published Fantasy Blog-Off (which ends on March 1st!).

His book, The Thief Who Pulled On Trouble's Braids is doing rather well in the final.

And he did...

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I am not a patient person.

Good things come to those who wait? Are you kidding me? The entirety of modern society is founded on the principle of faster, better, more. The Industrial Revolution happened because nobody wanted to wait two weeks for Mom to finish making them a new shirt. (Mom probably wasn't particularly thrilled about it either, admittedly.)

Patience is a virtue? Well, honestly, it's not like I don't lack a whole host of other virtues, so missing that one doesn't really shift the balance pan much. And call me a cynic, but this one is generally uttered by those who've already got theirs, so to speak, to those forced to come along, cap in hand.

Both those old homilies have always struck me as condescending pats on the head, and are followed up with a silent but understood “now run along and don't bother people with your not-terribly-important wants and needs.”

That's all well and good, McClung, I hear you say, but what has that got to do with fantasy or publishing or the #SPFBO? Be patient, I'm getting there. Heh.

The publishing industry, my friends, is about the worst sort of industry someone like me could ever have to deal with. Say you finished writing a book. After months or perhaps years, you finally wrote 'the end' and really meant it.

Oh, my sweet summer child.

The traditional publishing system is so Kafkaesque, even the gatekeepers have gatekeepers. You will likely spend months if not years searching for an agent, because traditional publishers will not accept unagented submissions. In order to be accepted by an agent, you'll need to learn the dark arts of query and synopsis writing. Yes, you must learn to write about your book in such a way that people who do not have the patience time to read your book will want to read your book.

If you secure the services of an agent, he or she will then shop your book around to publishers. This may take months, possibly more than a year. Be patient. At some point in the (distant) future, your agent will either find a publisher who wants to publish you, or they will tell you that, despite their herculean efforts, no publisher is interested.

But let's say you grasp the golden ring. You receive a publishing contract (which might take a month to actually receive, and then a couple more to negotiate). Soon you'll see your book on the store shelves, right? I suppose that depends on your definition of soon. Your editor might have it for 2-5 months, and then it'll take around 9-12 months to, you know, actually be published.

Good things come to those who wait. Patience is a virtue.

Now let's contrast this with self-publishing: I write a book. I write 'the end' and really mean it. I upload it to Amazon and 12 hours later it is available for purchase.

Ah, but traditional publishers add value, you say! Sometimes yes, sometimes no. If you'd like to take a look at the 'value' Random House/Del Rey added to my first novel in the form of its cover. 

But even if traditional publishing always added value to a novel, the time frame it takes for such value to be added is simply unacceptable. My time on this earth is finite, and I have less of it every day. I am impatient because I am not immortal. I get to make the value judgment regarding what is worth my time. Traditional publishing isn't worth the wasted time, especially when you consider the uncertain outcome. There is no guarantee your book will ever find an agent, or if it does, a publisher, after years of effort.

To put it succinctly, oh hell no.

But McClung, I hear you say, didn't you just sign a multi-book contract with Ragnarok Publications? I am confused/you are a hypocrite!

Here's the thing: I've given away nearly a hundred thousand ebooks in the last five years, over various platforms. Free. Gratis. Mian fe. I have done everything I can to reach those readers who are willing to take a chance with their own time to try an author new to them. I've reached only a fraction of the readers I believe will enjoy my books.

Many readers, especially fantasy readers, won't read a self-published book. Their time on this earth is finite, and they have less of it every day. They get to make a value judgment on what is worth their time, and in their estimation, self-published fantasy books aren't worth their time.

That's why I submitted Trouble's Braids to the #SPFBO when I heard about it. Social validation is a valuable thing, like it or not. It isn't infallible, but it's a hell of a lot better than blind, random choice. If a jury of my peers, so to speak, found value in Trouble's Braids, I knew it would go some way towards lessening the stigma of being self-published. (Yes, there is still a stigma attached to it. I don't think we really need to debate that.) More readers would be likely to gamble their time on the book.

Going with an independent publisher was a logical next step for the Amra Thetys series on the validation curve, so when Ragnarok approached me, I said yes. Judging by the covers Ragnarok's Shawn King imagined up for the series, I think I made the right choice, even though I had to push back the publication of the fourth Amra book in consequence.

So. traditional publishing, self-publishing, independent or small press publishing. There are proponents and opponents of each. I'm neither. I'm just an impatient guy who wants to get his stories into as many hands as possible. Sometimes that means having to be patient. (Irony, you can kiss my

Page 1 critique - "Balance" by Kareem Mahfouz

I'm critiquing some page 1s - read about it here.

First the disclaimers.

It's very hard to separate one's tastes from a technical critique. There are page 1s from popular books with which I would find multiple faults. I didn't, for example, like page 1 of Terry Goodkind's Wizard's First Rule (I didn't pursue the rest of the book). But that book has 150,000+ ratings on Goodreads, a great average score of 4.12 and Goodkind is a #1 NYT bestseller. His first page clearly did a great job for many people.

I'm not always right *hushed gasp*. You will likely be able to find a successful and highly respected author who will tell you the opposite to practically every bit of advice I give. Possibly not the same author in each case though.

The art of receiving criticism is to take what's useful to you and discard the rest. You need sufficient confidence in your own vision/voice such that whilst criticism may cause you to adjust course you're not about to do a U-turn for anyone. If you act on every bit of advice you'll get crit-burn, your story will be pulled in different directions by different people. It will stop being yours and turn into some Frankenstein's monster that nobody will ever want to read.

Additionally - don't get hurt or look for revenge. The person critiquing you is almost always trying to help you (it's true in some groups there will be the occasional person who is jealous/mean/misguided but that's the exception, not the rule). That person has put in effort on your behalf. If they don't like your prose it's not personal - they didn't just slap your baby.


I've flicked through some of the pages looking for one where I have something to say - something that hopefully is useful to the author and to anyone else reading the post.


I've posted the unadulterated page first then again with comments inset and at the end.

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Prologue

My world was reduced to the rhythmic beat of my boots, the burn in my lungs and my need to end this chase. My target led me through cattle fields in the dead of night. He navigated the farmland with obvious familiarity; I however had almost lost my footing a number of times. Most people would try to lose me in the bordering woodland, but then, Survivors aren’t most people… He jumped a low fence and disappeared into a large building, it outlined the night in deeper shade of black. A barn if I had to guess. One of the massive doors was ajar and inside was a void of darkness, following would be… risky. The noise that followed kept me from moving any closer.

It was the sound of a sizable dog that managed to congeal the sound of a bark and a growl together to create a noise that made you wish you had fresh underwear to hand. It became increasingly offended by my existence and the hellish sound it produced was amplified by the empty barn. My imagination projected images of creatures my father would tell tales of to scare my brother and me.

The barking increased in ferocity. I don’t care how brave you think you are. An angry set of sharp teeth bent on ripping you apart will make you reconsider.

“Ha! The big bad fucking Orphan scared of my pup!” Apparently the dog had given him enough courage to make a stand.

“This night has one ending, Brant, and if you make me kill that dog because you are too cowardly to face your death then I’ll make sure that you feel every agonising second of it.”

“Let’s find out, Orphan!” The dog came running. Shit …

I considered shoving something in the dog’s mouth, but what? …  Without the luxury of choice I picked up a stick that would have to do, for a second I looked for something else but the dog was now only a few feet away. Fuck it! He leapt for my neck, jaws open and all four legs off the ground. I wedged the stick in his mouth and felt teeth bite into the wood; I kept a hold of the stick, hoping it gave the animal the sense that it had hit its mark ... it worked. I knew it wouldn’t stay there long before he realised his error. In an instant I was racked with regret, felt sick with guilt and resigned myself. I unsheathed my sword, the steel in my hand caught the moon’s light before it arced through the air and bit into the dog’s neck, severing the spine. The tiniest of yelps cut short confirmed the beast had died.

My heart ached for the dog, his death a result of unyielding loyalty. Loyalty to someone who had spent his life like spare change. I turned my grief into anger, and then aimed it straight at Brant.

I ran into the barn, my anger burning all caution away. Once inside the moon was to my back, I could see nothing within and all was silent.

“Brant!” I called after him.  He had drowned seven years ago in a fishing wreck up north. He reawakened with the ability to breathe underwater, and set to using his new talents robbing merchant vessels of their goods. He also had three murders under his belt. Four, if you include the dog. “When I find you I’m going to core out your throat like an apple! Then watch the life leak out your neck, you cowardly waste of life! Brant!” I heard him before I felt him fall on me from the barn rafters, the impact left me prone on the floor. I dropped my sword in the fall but I’d be damned if I was going to lose him. He was close; I could hear him, so I blindly felt my way around in the dark. I felt some part of him and got a kick in the face for my labours. He thought it an adequate enough strike to make his escape and hurry for the barn door. The moon blessed me with enough light to be able to kick his feet from underneath him. Quickly I was back on my feet and hot with anger. 

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Prologue

Some people skip prologues. I used to be one of them. Now I write them and hope my readers don't skip them.

There's a school of thought/writing that says prologues fulfill a unique role and as such follow different 'rules'. Some prologues are essentially info dumps, a condensed world-building / history. These are the sorts I used to encounter a lot, and skip, without losing much.

Another school of thought is that prologues should be as exciting and engaging as any other part of your book. If you have a prologue then your prologue contains your page 1 and that page 1 has to work just as hard as if it were in chapter 1. I try to write my prologues like that. And the only reason I opt for a prologue is usually because I'm offering a PoV I may not return to, or won't for a long time, or I'm dealing with a period a significant time before (or maybe after) the main story.

My world was reduced to the rhythmic beat of my boots, the burn in my lungs and my need to end this chase. My target led me through cattle fields in the dead of night.

So this isn't the info-dump type of prologue. Good.

My, my, my, my, my. Can restructure to reduce 'my' and 'I' in first person. Eg:

My world was reduced to the rhythmic beat of my boots, to burning lungs and the need to end this chase.

He navigated the farmland with obvious familiarity;

We soon learn it's his farm and the narrator knows this. He also knows his name. So why not tell us now? Brant could navigate his own farm as easily by night as by day.

I however had almost lost my footing a number of times.

Might be better shown than told. Turning the corner my foot tried to slide from under me and for the fifth time I nearly fell. 

Most people would try to lose me in the bordering woodland, but then, Survivors aren’t most people…

Lost + Lose, repetition.

He jumped a low fence and disappeared into a large building, it outlined the night in deeper shade of black. A barn if I had to guess. One of the massive doors was ajar

Farm, large building, massive door ... let's just call it a barn and skip the guessing?

 and inside was a void of darkness, following would be… risky. The noise that followed kept me from moving any closer.

void of darkness - feels like overkill

It was the sound of a sizable dog that managed to congeal the sound of a bark and a growl together to create a noise that made you wish you had fresh underwear to hand.

noise, sound, sound, noise - awkward repetition.

'congeal' feels like the wrong word, maybe fuse, marry, blend etc

It became increasingly offended by my existence and the hellish sound it produced was amplified by the empty barn. 

Doesn't feel as if enough time has passed for 'increasingly' plus realistically it would've been barking the whole time. Also, the barn's a void of darkness ... it could be full of stuff rather than empty? This whole line like feels like a bit of a waste to me.

If you want to underscore how scary it is maybe take it in a different direction. The sort of guttural howl that reminds you who's the predator and who's the prey.  

My imagination projected images of creatures my father would tell tales of to scare my brother and me.

The barking increased in ferocity. I don’t care how brave you think you are. An angry set of sharp teeth bent on ripping you apart will make you reconsider.

Good to make it personal, but here it's a tale about tales told. Perhaps a quick direct memory of actually being savaged/threatened by a dog as a child. Throw in specifics, rolling eyes, white teeth, slobber, ferocity, the quickness, the sound, the smell. All these will remind most readers of something similar whereas describing the descriptions in the tales is a bit more distancing. Remember the pain, the strength of the animal, the helplessness, being paralysed in the moment.

“Ha! The big bad fucking Orphan scared of my pup!” Apparently the dog had given him enough courage to make a stand.

“This night has one ending, Brant, and if you make me kill that dog because you are too cowardly to face your death then I’ll make sure that you feel every agonising second of it.”

“Let’s find out, Orphan!” The dog came running. Shit …

Brant could name the dog - make it more specific - "Go get him, [FIDO]!"

I considered shoving something in the dog’s mouth, but what? …  Without the luxury of choice I picked up a stick that would have to do, for a second I looked for something else but the dog was now only a few feet away. Fuck it! He leapt for my neck, jaws open and all four legs off the ground. I wedged the stick in his mouth and felt teeth bite into the wood; I kept a hold of the stick, hoping it gave the animal the sense that it had hit its mark ... it worked. I knew it wouldn’t stay there long before he realised his error. In an instant I was racked with regret, felt sick with guilt and resigned myself. I unsheathed my sword,

This dog is sometimes a he, sometimes an it. Pick one. Probably 'it' unless Brant does name it and deliver a gender.

It's dark, so he does well to spot this stick and get it as the dog is charging him. It makes me realise I can't see the setting - I didn't know there was a stick to hand. Perhaps if it were a rake handle leaning against the barn etc.

All this is fine ... until I get to "I unsheathed my sword." Then I'm thinking ... why wasn't that the first thing he did? Even if he didn't want to kill the dog ... a sword is a big metal stick.

 the steel in my hand caught the moon’s light before it arced through the air and bit into the dog’s neck, severing the spine. The tiniest of yelps cut short confirmed the beast had died.

A tad wordy. Plus with a severed spine we don't really need confirmation it's dead. Nothing wrong with snarl becoming a yelp that gets cut short - just don't need to be told it confirmed the beast had died. 

Could get us into the fight more if it brought him to the ground, give us hot breath, slobber, mud, blood, the weight of it, the smell.

Mechanics a bit strange - it's a dog of man-killing size... does he hold it back with one hand while swinging the sword at its neck with the other? And now would be a good time for some of the aforementioned raw animal terror at being savaged (attempted) by a ferocious hound.

My heart ached for the dog, his death a result of unyielding loyalty. Loyalty to someone who had spent his life like spare change.

To be fair he's told Brant he's going to kill him. Brant's spending this dog's life in the hopes of saving his own, not for a giggle.

I turned my grief into anger, and then aimed it straight at Brant.

I ran into the barn, my anger burning all caution away. Once inside the moon was to my back, I could see nothing within and all was silent.

Imma say the moon was at his back outside the barn too.

“Brant!” I called after him.

After him? Into the darkness perhaps.

  He had drowned seven years ago in a fishing wreck up north. He reawakened with the ability to breathe underwater, and set to using his new talents robbing merchant vessels of their goods. He also had three murders under his belt. Four, if you include the dog. “When I find you I’m going to core out your throat like an apple! Then watch the life leak out your neck, you cowardly waste of life! Brant!”

Interesting about Brant.

Still not buying 'running away from the man with a sword trying to kill him' as 'cowardly' :)

I heard him before I felt him fall on me from the barn rafters,

What did he hear? Him falling through the air?

He felt him hit him - the falling is separate and not felt. Better perhaps with something like - a huge blow across my shoulders staggered me. Brant's weight bore me to the ground. He'd dropped from the rafters. 

 the impact left me prone on the floor. I dropped my sword in the fall but I’d be damned if I was going to lose him. He was close; I could hear him,

Again 'I could hear him' would be better replaced with what 'I' could hear. Brant groaned close at hand and I turned to face him. - or - The shuffle of feet swung me to my left. etc

Try to use the actual thing rather than an adjective describing the type of thing. Not 'I heard him.' But 'I heard [something].' It puts the reader there.

 so I blindly felt my way around in the dark. I felt some part of him and got a kick in the face for my labours. He thought it an adequate enough strike to make his escape and hurry for the barn door. The moon blessed me with enough light to be able to kick his feet from underneath him. Quickly I was back on my feet and hot with anger. 

Kick, kick, feet, feet.

******************************

I put a lot of red ink on this but actually it was a solid effort. My suggestions were just that - possible improvements to something that already did a good job, rather than replacements for bits that failed.

To me this did all the right sort of things - local, easy to grasp problem, gives us immediate action and interest, there's a threat, the PoV has a voice/character, and some interesting world-building slips in when we learn the nature of the enemy. It leaves the reader with a reason to continue and the expectation that the situation will unfold into a larger story.