What Huldufólk Turned Out to Be

There is a strange moment in writing a novel that no one really talks about.

You spend months, sometimes years, living inside a story. You build it, shape it, revise it, tear it apart, and put it back together again. You think you know what it is. You think you understand what you’ve written. And then, only after all of that… something shifts.

The truth of the story reveals itself. That is where I find myself now with Huldufólk: A Modern Icelandic Folktale.

This manuscript has been through countless revisions. I have tightened the language, sharpened the structure, deepened the characters, and refined the emotional core. But what has changed most in recent weeks is not the prose—it is my understanding of what this story actually is.

For a long time, I thought I was writing a story about hidden people, ancient forces, and a centuries-old curse. And all of that is there. The world of the Huldufólk is real and alive on the page.

But that is not what the story is about.

At its heart, this novel is about something much more fundamental. It is about the cost of becoming who you are meant to be. It is about the risk of being seen and the courage required to accept that kind of truth. It is about love that does not fit within the boundaries of tradition, and the choice to honor it anyway. And it is about the idea that real transformation always comes at a cost.

That realization did not come at the beginning. It came slowly, like a river before a flood, and then all at once.

Looking back now, I can see it was always there, beneath the surface. The story knew what it was before I did.

That, I think, is part of the process.

We don’t always write what we think we are writing. Sometimes we write our way toward the truth. And if we’re lucky, we recognize it before we let the story go. I’m at that point now.

The manuscript is complete. It has been refined, sharpened, and, most importantly, understood. I’m preparing to begin the process of sharing it—first with agents, and, if necessary, through my own imprint.

However it finds its way into the world, I believe this story has become what it was meant to be.

And that is a rare and satisfying place to stand.

More soon.

— R.L. Niblock