Andrew Houlston - Author and founder of The Optoglean Tales Ltd

What first inspired me to write

My first book was born from a restless pull toward both memory and imagination. I grew up surrounded by stories of ancestry and legacy, of lives lived before mine that still seemed to echo. At the same time, I felt an unshakable yearning to explore worlds beyond the horizon, places no map could show, only the mind could draw. Out of that mixture came The Pagalan Chronicles: part reflection of the past, part invention of a mythos all my own. Writing became my way of weaving history with possibility, anchoring memory in one hand while reaching for the unknown with the other.

But another current flowed into that inspiration: the books I devoured as a reader. The sweeping landscapes of classic fantasy, the daring leaps of science fiction, and the imaginations of great authors who built entire universes on the page left a lasting mark on me. Their stories showed me what could be done when courage, wonder, and imagination meet. They taught me that worlds are not only discovered but created, and that in those creations, readers can find both escape and recognition.

So my own journey into writing began at the meeting point of memory and myth, of heritage and invention, of the spark kindled by the writers I admired and the stories I longed to tell. The Pagalan Chronicles grew from that crossroad, carrying forward both the echoes of the past and the endless possibilities of worlds yet unimagined.

Andrew Houlston - Author and founder of The Optoglean Tales Ltd

Andrew grew up in a Devon village. At nineteen, he joined the Royal Air Force as an airfield technician and started exploring the world beyond his small community. After nine years serving his country, Andrew pursued a career and further qualifications in technology, working on defence and commercial projects around the world.

Andrew married a woman from his home county, and together they had three children. Their children, now adults with their own families, have influenced his writing and motivated him to create a legacy for them.

As Andrew grew older, he decided to spend time reading science fiction and fantasy novels as a break from focusing on future technologies. This activity led him to imagine worlds based on creativity and life experiences, featuring varied characters dealing with relevant issues. He wanted to author stories about these worlds but lacked the time. After retiring from the high-tech industry, Andrew aimed to share these imagined worlds through storytelling.

As Andrew’s writing developed, it helped him focus on the world rather than his own problems. He realized that despite life's hardships, there is always hope. We live in uncertain times, but through all the challenges and darkness, a glimmer of light remains. Standing together through adversity can turn that glimmer into a beacon, even in the bleakest moments. This idea has been subtly present in Andrew’s stories.

Reflection: The Gift of Legacy

There was a time when I thought legacy was something heavy — a burden of expectation, of unfinished work, of history whispering what I should do next. I used to imagine it as a chain linking me to everything that came before: family, memory, and even the stories I’d written. The further I went, the more it seemed that I wasn’t escaping that chain, just dragging it across new ground.

But somewhere in the long journey through Pagalan — through Morganuke, Jason, Olivier and all those who came before — something changed. I realised that legacy isn’t about weight. It’s about continuity. About what remains when time moves on and what still lives, quietly, in those who follow.

I had spent so long fearing legacy that I forgot it was never meant to confine me. It was meant to guide me. To remind me that what we build doesn’t belong to us alone — it’s a conversation between generations, between imagination and memory. Each story is an echo, but echoes only exist because someone once dared to speak.

Now, I see the truth of it: legacies aren’t burdens. They are gifts — imperfect, enduring, and luminous. They carry the warmth of everyone who tried, failed, rebuilt, and hoped. They remind us that the world is shaped not by those who escape their past, but by those who transform it.

And perhaps that’s what Pagalan has always been about. Not the fall of worlds or the rise of empires, but the quiet realisation that what we inherit — our histories, our flaws, our dreams — is not a weight to bear, but a flame to pass on.

That flame doesn’t diminish as it’s shared.
It grows brighter.