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My Granda Always Told Me That Fall's The Time To Root Up Something You Don't Want Coming Back To Trouble You.' Kote Mimicked The Quaver Of An Old Man's Voice. 'things Are Too Full Of Life In The Spring Months. In The Summer, They're Too Strong And Won't Let Go. Autumn...' He Looked Around At The Changing Leaves On The Trees. 'autumn's The Time. In Autumn Everything Is Tired And Ready To Die.

-Patrick Rothfuss

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My Granda Always Told

Patrick Rothfuss

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My Granda Always Told Me That Fall's The Time To Root Up Something You Don't Want Coming Back To Trouble You.' Kote Mimicked The Quaver Of An Old Man's Voice. 'things Are Too Full Of Life In The Spring Months. In The Summer, They're Too Strong And Won't Let Go. Autumn...' He Looked Around At The Changing Leaves On The Trees. 'autumn's The Time. In Autumn Everything Is Tired And Ready To Die.

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If The Beard Gives A Modifier To Seduction, I'm Guessing It's Not A Positive One.

If You Open The Door And Realize Things Like The Fact That Batman Is Occupying The Same Narrative Space That Robin Hood Used To Fill 400 Years Ago, Then You Have The Freedom To Ignore The Pointless "what Is Literature" Discussion And Just Talk About Stories.

Over His Own Dark Cealdish Beard. "nothing Like Your Marvelous Facebear.

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Hours Later The Blank Sheet Still Stared At Me, And I Beat My Fist Against The Desk In Fury And Fustration, Striking It So Hard My Hand Bled. That Is How Heavy A Secret Can Become. It Can Make Blood Flow Easier Than Ink.

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He Was Giving Me Enough Rope To Hang Myself With. Apparently He Didn't Realize That Once A Noose Is Tied It Will Fit One Neck As Easily As Another.

I Don't Try To Take A Person Out Of Our World And Put Them Into My World; That Wouldn't Work. It's Sort Of Like Bad Photoshop: If You See Something Photoshopped Together - And Even If It's Done Pretty Well - The Eye Catches On It. That Happens A Lot When People Try To Cut And Paste People From Our World Into Their Fourteenth-century Historical Romance Novel.

You See, Women Are Like Fires, Like Flames. Some Women Are Like Candles, Bright And Friendly. Some Are Like Single Sparks, Or Embers, Like Fireflies For Chasing On Summer Nights. Some Are Like Campfires, All Light And Heat For A Night And Willing To Be Left After. Some Women Are Like Hearthfires, Not Much To Look At But Underneath They Are All Warm Red Coal That Burns A Long, Long While.

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If There Is One Thing I Will Not Abide It Is The Folly Of A Willful Pride.

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After An Awkward Pause, Bast Extended His Hand. Chronicler Hesitated For A Bare Moment Before Reaching Out Quickly, As If He Were Sticking His Hand Into A Fire. Nothing Happened, Both Of Them Seemed Moderately Surprised. "amazing, Isn't It?" Kvothe Addressed Them Bitingly. "five Fingers And Flesh With Blood Beneath. One Could Almost Believe That On The Other End Of That Hand Lay A Person Of Some Sort.

But Even This Piece Of Flattery Couldn't Distract Me From The Fact That I Was In The Center Of The Fae Realm, Blind, Stark Naked, And Without The Slightest Idea Of What Was Going On.

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And If Hollywood Has Taught Us Anything, It's That Cool Props And Special Effects Are Not Enough. Story Comes First. Everything Depends On Story.

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Then I Played The Song That Hides In The Center Of Me. That Wordless Music That Moves Through The Secret Places In My Heart. I Played It Carefully, Strumming It Slow And Low Into The Dark Stillness Of The Night. I Would Like To Say It Is A Happy Song, That It Is Sweet And Bright, But It Is Not.

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There Can Be Many Opinions On A Thing, But There Is Only One Truth." Vashet Smiled Lazily. "and If The Pursuit Of The Truth Was My Goal, That Would Concern Me." She Gave A Long Yawn, Stretching Like A Happy Cat. "instead I Will Focus On The Joy In My Heart, [...}

After Two Years Of Sending Out Query Letters And Failing To Get An Agent, I Made Friends With An Author, Who Was Nice Enough To Introduce Me To His Agent. That Got My Foot In The Door.

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Words Are Pale Shadows Of Forgotten Names. As Names Have Power, Words Have Power. Words Can Light Fires In The Minds Of Men. Words Can Wring Tears From The Hardest Hearts. There Are Seven Words That Will Make A Person Love You. There Are Ten Words That Will Break A Strong Man's Will. But A Word Is Nothing But A Painting Of A Fire. A Name Is The Fire Itself.

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Why Would I Want To Win Anything Other Than A Beautiful Game?

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The Waystone Was His, Just As The Third Silence Was His. This Was Appropriate, As It Was The Greatest Silence Of The Three, Wrapping The Others Inside Itself. It Was Deep And Wide As Autumn’s Ending. It Was Heavy As A Great River-smooth Stone. It Was The Patient, Cut-flower Sound Of A Man Who Is Waiting To Die.

My Mom Once Lost Track Of Me At The Zoo And When She Found Me I Was Lecturing A Man About The Difference Between Dromedary And Bactrian Camels. I Was About 3 1/2.

One Reason We Love Fiction Is Because Stories Have A Comforting Shape. They Provide A Resolution That's Lacking In Our Regular Lives.

I Have No Balance. My Life Is A Hot Mess.

I'm Not A Big Fan Of Overt Marketing. I'd Much Rather Just Put Things Out There For People To See. I'm Just Putting It Out There For People To See. If People Think This Is Cool, I'm Hoping They'll Tell Their Friends.

I Can't Count The Men Who Have Tried To Seduce Me Away From My Virtue By Teaching Me How To Defend It.

The Good Thing About Working On The Books For 14 Years Before They Hit The Shelves Is That I Worked Out Most Of The Kinks Long Before They Were Published.

If You're An Actor, You Know People Are Going To Recognize You In A Restaurant. If You're A Rock Star, You Know People Are Going To Stop You On The Street And Ask You For Your Autograph. But As An Author? That's Not Something I Was Ready For.

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Using Words To Talk Of Words Is Like Using A Pencil To Draw A Picture Of Itself, On Itself. Impossible. Confusing. Frustrating ... But There Are Other Ways To Understanding.

Performance And Music Are Inexorably Tied Together. And Hell, I'll Watch Brittany's Toxic Music Video All Day. But There's A Difference Between That And Listening To Leo Kottke Play Guitar. One Is Entertainment. The Other Is Music.

It's Hard For Me To Take Myself Too Seriously When I'm Constantly Experiencing Firsthand What An Incredible Gimp I Can Be.

Owls Are Wise. They Are Careful And Patient. Wisdom Precludes Boldness. That Is Why Owls Make Poor Heroes.

Caffeine Helps A Lot. That And A Certain Amount Of Isolation.

To Be Both Rich And Handsome Was Bad Enough. But To Have A Voice Like Honey Over Warm Bread On Top Of That Was Simply Inexcusable.

All Stories Are True,” Skarpi Said. “but This One Really Happened, If That’s What You Mean.” He Took Another Slow Drink, Then Smiled Again, His Bright Eyes Dancing. “more Or Less. You Have To Be A Bit Of A Liar To Tell A Story The Right Way. Too Much Truth Confuses The Facts. Too Much Honesty Makes You Sound Insincere.

I'm Kind Of Balanced Between Excited About The Potential Of The Project, And The Knowledge That I Shouldn't Get My Hopes Up. I Like To Be Practical, And The Truth Is, These Deals Fall Apart All The Time.

Congratulations. That Was The Stupidest Thing I've Ever Seen. Ever.

Congratulations

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There Is Only One Whedon, And I Am His Prophet.

There Are Times When The Mind Is Dealt Such A Blow It Hides Itself In Insanity. While This May Not Seem Beneficial, It Is. There Are Times When Reality Is Nothing But Pain, And To Escape That Pain The Mind Must Leave Reality Behind.

Metal Rusts, Music Lasts Forever.

It Might Not Be True, But That Doesn't Mean It's Nonsense.

Nobody Cooks Using Just One Ingredient. Why Would You Write Using Just One Flavor Of Story?

I Have Had A Few Gentlemen Let Me Know They Find My Manly Beardiness Somewhat Alluring. Never Any Ladies Though.

Stand Alone Books Are Nice Because They Have Everything All In One Tidy Little Package. Neverwhere Was Awesome Because You Get Action, Adventure, Character Development, The Exploration Of A Strange World, Plus Resolution Of All The Problems And Mysteries At The End. No Lines No Waiting. That's Very Satisfying. Multi-volume Stories Are Satisfying Too, Just In A Different Way.

I'm Not Implying That Fantasy Is For Kids. I'm Saying That More And More People Are Finally Realizing That There's More To Fantasy Stories Than Elves And Wizards And Goblin Armies.

It's The Questions We Can't Answer That Teach Us The Most. They Teach Us How To Think. If You Give A Man An Answer, All He Gains Is A Little Fact. But Give Him A Question And He'll Look For His Own Answers.

Reading Aloud Sounds Like A Good Idea, But Honestly, It Doesn't Work Very Well. Good Dialogue In A Book Doesn't Actually Bear Much Resemblance To Real-life Dialogue. For Example, If You've Ever Seen A Word-for-word Transcript Of People Talking, It Doesn't Read Off The Page Very Well. The Trick Is To Make It *seem* Like It's Being Spoken, Not To Make It Speakable.

I Am No Poet. I Do Not Love Words For The Sake Of Words. I Love Words For What They Can Accomplish. Similarly, I Am No Arithmetician. Numbers That Speak Only Of Numbers Are Of Little Interest To Me.

Death Was Like An Unpleasant Neighbor. You Didn’t Talk About Him For Fear He Might Hear You And Decide To Pay A Visit.

We Need To Read Good Books, And For That To Happen, We Need To Share Good Books.

Sleep Marks Passing Time, Giving Us Distance From The Things That Have Hurt Us. When A Person Is Wounded They Will Often Fall Unconscious. Similarly, Someone Who Hears Traumatic News Will Often Swoon Or Faint. This Is The Mind's Way Of Protecting Itself From Pain.

However, While Being Able To Think About Two Things At The Same Time Is A Terribly Convenient, The Training It Takes To Get There Is Frustrating At Best, And At Other Times Rather Disturbing. I Remember One Time I Looked For The Stone For Almost An Hour Before I Consented To Ask The Other Half Of Me Where I'd Hidden It, Only To Find I Hadn't Hidden The Stone At All. I Had Merely Been Waiting To See How Long I Would Look Before Giving Up. Have You Ever Been Annoyed And Amused With Yourself At The Same Time? It's An Interesting Feeling, To Say The Very Least.

There Is Something Powerfully Beguiling About The Excited Eyes Of A Young Woman. They Can Pull All Manner Of Nonsense Out Of A Foolish Young Man, And I Was No Exception To This Rule.

Sought We The Scrivani Word-work Of Surthur Long-long In Ledger All Hope Forgotten Yet Fast-found For Friendship Fair The Book-bringer Hot Comes The Huntress Fela, Flushed With Finding Breathless Her Breast Her High Blood Rising To Ripen The Red-cheek Rouge-bloom Of Beauty.

Only A Fool Worries Over What He Can’t Control.

It Wasn't Even A Good Note. 'if You Are Reading This I Am Probably Dead.' What Sort Of A Note Is That?

Name Of The Wind

There Is Nothing Quite So Delightfully Mysterious As A Secret In Your Own Backyard.

He Taught Only One Class: 'unlikely Maths'. But Since The Time Was Listed As "now" And The Place, "everywhere," This Was Hardly Helpful In Tracking Him Down.

When Someone Writes Something Dazzlingly Brilliant, People Want To Imitate It. The Result Is A Lot Of Less-than-brilliant Knock-offs. Elves, Dwarves, Goblin Army, Cursed Ring, Evil Sorcerer. Tolkien Did It. It Rocked. Let's Move On. Let's Do Something New.

Joss [whedon] Is An Excellent Storyteller. It Really Doesn't Matter What Medium He's Working In.

Knowing Your Own Ignorance Is The First Step To Enlightenment.

She Was A Wicked Thing Sometimes. All Full Of Want. As If The Shape Of The World Depended On Her Mood. As If She Were Important.

I'd Love To Get A Chance To Talk Shop With Joss Whedon. That's Pretty High Up There On The List.

It Was More Exciting When I Didn't Know I Had Permission.

You Can Have An Interesting Story About A Person Living An Interesting Life. And If It's Done Well, That Is Just As Engaging As The End Of The World. A Million People Dying - We Can't Process. One Person, We Can Process.

A Long Stretch Of Road Will Teach You More About Yourself Than A Hundred Years Of Quiet Introspection

I’d Heard He Had Started A Fistfight In One Of The Seedier Local Taverns Because Someone Had Insisted On Saying The Word “utilize” Instead Of “use.

I Have A Blog Where I Keep In Touch With My Fans. I Write About Things That Are Important To Me. Sometimes On There I'll Just Tell A Little Story About The Things That Happen In My Everyday Life. People Seem To Enjoy Them Well Enough.

I'm Not A Speed Writer. I Write Slowly And Revise Obsessively. The End Result Tends To Be Good. That's Where My Strength Is.

I Decided To Dub The Room With The Good Chairs My Lutery. Or Perhaps My Performatory. I Would Need A While To Come Up With Something Suitably Pretentious.

Right Now My Favorite Thing Is Working To Recall Our Absolute Shitbag Of A Governor. He's Been Screwing Up My State For More Than A Year. I Want Him Out.

Favorites Things

One Of Them Had A Large Wooden Sign Nailed To Its Door Proclaiming, No Sympathy! I Wondered What Non-arcane Visitors Might Think Of The Warning.

Its Like He Knows He's Better Than You, But Doesn't Look Down On You For It Because He Knows It's Not Your Fault.

In The Hours That Followed, I Learned That Ademic Hand Gestures Did Not Actually Represent Facial Expressions. It Was Nothing So Simple As That. For Example A Smile Can Mean You're Amused, Happy, Grateful, Or Satisfied. You Can Smile To Comfort Someone. You Can Smile Because You're Content Or Because You're In Love. A Grimace Or A Grin Look Similar To A Smile, But They Mean Entirely Different Things. Imagine Trying To Teach Someone How To Smile. Imagine Trying To Describe What Different Smiles Mean And When, Precisely, To Use Them In Conversation. It's Harder Than Learning To Walk.

I Was Nervous About Writing Slow Regard.

You Still Think I've Gone Cracked In The Head," Ben Said, Amused. "listen, If Tomorrow We Pulled Into Biren And Someone Told You There Were Shamble-men In The Woods, Would You Believe Them?" My Father Shook His Head. "what If Two People Told You?" Another Shake. Ben Leaned Forward On His Stump. "what If A Dozen People Told You, With Perfect Earnestness, That Shamble-men Were Out In The Fields, Eating-" "of Course I Wouldn't Believe Them," My Father Said, Irritated. "it's Ridiculous." "of Course It Is," Ben Agreed, Raising A Finger. "but The Real Question Is This: Would You Go Into The Woods?

Don't Get Me Wrong, Hard And Soft Fantasy Stories Can Both Be Good. But You Need To Know Which Camp You're In. I'm Into Realism. I'm A Hard Fantasy Guy.

Fantasy Stories

Perhaps The Greatest Faculty Our Minds Possess Is The Ability To Cope With Pain.

I Was Just Wondering Why You're Here.

On His First Hand He Wore Rings Of Stone, Iron, Amber, Wood And Bone. There Were Rings Unseen On His Second Hand, One Was Blood In A Flowing Band, One Was Air All Whisper Thin, And The Ring Of Ice Had A Flaw Within. Full Faintly Shone The Ring Of Flame, And The Final Ring Was Without Name.

It's My Belief That You Should Never Show Your Work To Anyone In The Publishing World Until It Shines Like A Diamond. Rough Drafts Don't Shine, As A Rule. Mine Certainly Didn't. That's Why I Was Rejected For Years And Years.

I Don't Actually Have Cable. I Watch Tv, But Only Shows That I Buy On Dvd. As A Result My Tv Rage Factor Is Pretty Low Right Now. I Do Have A Real Distaste For Those Extreme Makeover Shows. I Once Caught A Roommate Watching One And Proceeded To Rant For Almost 15 Solid Minutes About How, In Watching That Bullshit, She Was Actively Contributing To The Destruction Of All Civilization.

I'd Love To Take A Stab At Writing Videogames. There Are A Lot Of Storytelling Opportunities That Really Aren't Being Taken Advantage Of In That Field. I'd Like To Experiment With Telling A Truly Non-linear Story.

Books Are A Poor Substitute For Female Companionship, But They Are Easier To Find.

But It Isn’t A Rough Draft Either. The One I Turned In Several Months Ago Was Rough. There Were Some Bad Plot Holes, Some Logical Inconsistencies, Pacing Problems, And Not Nearly Enough Lesbian Unicorns.

She Reached Up And Lay Her Hand On My Cheek. "you Have The Sweetest Face," She Said, Looking At Me Dreamily. "it's Like The Perfect Kitchen." I Fought Not To Smile. This Was The Delirium. She'd Fade In And Out Of It Before The Profound Exhaustion Dragged Her Down Into Unconsciousness. If You See Someone Spouting Nonsense To Themselves In An Alleyway In Tarbean, Odds Are They're Not Actually Crazy, Just A Sweet-eater Deranged By Too Much Denner. "a Kitchen?" "yes," She Said. "everything Matches And The Sugar Bowl Is Right Where It Should Be.

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