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My Parents Danced Together, Her Head On His Chest. Both Had Their Eyes Closed. They Seemed So Perfectly Content. If You Can Find Someone Like That, Someone Who You Can Hold And Close Your Eyes To The World With, Then You're Lucky. Even If It Only Lasts For A Minute Or A Day. The Image Of Them Gently Swaying To The Music Is How I Picture Love In My Mind Even After All These Years.

-Patrick Rothfuss

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My Parents Danced Together,

Patrick Rothfuss

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My Parents Danced Together, Her Head On His Chest. Both Had Their Eyes Closed. They Seemed So Perfectly Content. If You Can Find Someone Like That, Someone Who You Can Hold And Close Your Eyes To The World With, Then You're Lucky. Even If It Only Lasts For A Minute Or A Day. The Image Of Them Gently Swaying To The Music Is How I Picture Love In My Mind Even After All These Years.

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I've Got An Idea For A Modern Day Faerie Tale That I Think Would Made A Great Short Novel. But I Just Don't Have The Time To Work On It Right Now. I'm Way Too Busy With The 'kingkiller Chronicles' And Being A New Dad.

Character Is Half The Reason We Read. We're Excited Because Of The Plot, But We Care Because Of The Characters.

Everything Said, You Couldn't Hope For A Nicer Day To Have A Half Dozen Ex-soldiers With Hunting Bows Relieve You Of Everything You Owned.

After A Certain Point Is Reached The Numbers Cease To Matter, And All That Remains Is The Faceless Mass Of A Crowd.

For People Who Don't Know, The Fundraiser Works Like This: People Donate To Worldbuilders And They're Automatically Entered To Win Geeky Swag In The Lottery. We're Just Starting Week Two And We're Already Giving Away More Than $40,000 Of Books And Games.

The Key To Good Worldbuilding Is Leaving Out Most Of What You Create. You, As The Author, Had Damn Well Better Know The Where All That Dragon Food Comes From, But That Doesn't Mean That I, As A Reader, Want To Read A Five Thousand Word Essay About You Explaining It To Me. I Don't Need To See The Math, But I Can Tell By The Details You Provide Whether Or Not You've Thought These Things Through To Their Logical Conclusions.

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

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.

Close Your Mouth, E'lir Kvothe, Or I Will Feel Obliged To Put Some Vile Tonic In It.

I've Got A Solid Grounding In History, Sociology, Anthropology, Philosophy, Etc Etc. That Means I Actually Have A Good Idea About How Societies Change And Evolve. I Know How A Lot Of Them Have Actually Functioned Through The Years. I Can Put Together A Culture That's Cool And Different, While Still Being Logically Consistent, So That It Feels Real. So Many Fantasy Worlds Are Either Implausible, Cookie-cutter, Or Both. Mine Aren't.

When Someone Tells You A Piece Of Their Life, They're Giving You A Gift, Not Granting You Your Due.

Dawn Was Coming. The Waystone Inn Lay In Silence, And It Was A Silence Of Three Parts.

Chronicler Picked Up His Pen, But Before He Could Dip It, Kvothe Held Up A Hand. "let Me Say One Thing Before I Start. I've Told Stories In The Past, Painted Pictures With Words, Told Hard Lies And Harder Truths. Once, I Sang Colors To A Blind Man. Seven Hours I Played, But At The End He Said He Saw Them, Green And Red And Gold. That, I Think, Was Easier Than This. Trying To Make You Understand Her With Nothing More Than Words. You Have Never Seen Her, Never Heard Her Voice. You Cannot Know.

We Are More Than The Parts That Form Us.

Name Of The Wind

Just Pity Him, My Boy. Tomorrow We'll Be On Our Way, But He'll Have To Keep His Own Disagreeable Company Until The Day He Dies.

Is There A Connection Between Language And Magic? Yes. Ten Times Yes. So Much Yes That It Almost Doesn't Bear Talking About. It's As Pointless That Arguing That The Sun Is Hot.

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

He Had A Bright, Reckless Tenor That Was Always Wandering Off, Looking For Notes In The Wrong Places.

Anger Can Keep You Warm At Night, And Wounded Pride Can Spur A Man To Wondrous Things.

Barbarian That I Am, I Had Eaten All Of It. It Had Tasted Quite Nice Too. Still, I Took Note Of This Fact And Resigned Myself To Throw Away Half Of A Perfectly Good Cheese If It Was Set In Front Of Me. Such Is The Price Of Civilization.

I Don't Really Have A Lot Of Expensive Tastes. What Else Am I Really Going To Do With My Money? Buy A Little Red Sports Car? Wear A Lot Of Jewelry? Build A Castle? Well... I Might Do The Last One. Maybe. Eventually. But That Doesn't Mean I Can't Run Worldbuilders Too.

If I'd Been Whoring Before Class And Waved A Corset At Him, No One Would Have Thought Twice About It!

Sometimes When I Get Up After Writing, I'm Surprised At How My Body Feels. Suddenly I'm Not A Lanky, Hungry Young Boy Any More. It's No Fun Putting On Ten Years And Fifty Pounds All Of A Sudden. Other Times, I Get Up And I'm Pleasantly Surprised That I'm Not A Weary Innkeeper, Hopeless, With Bones That Feel Like They're Made Of Lead. I Really Sink Into The Characters That I Write.

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.

Secrets Of The Heart. We Swallow Hard Against Them Every Day, Forcing Them Deep Inside Us. There They Sit, Growing Heavier, Festering. Given Enough Time, They Cannot Help But Crush The Heart That Holds Them.

I Have An Apple That Thinks Its A Pear. And A Bun That Thinks It’s A Cat. And A Lettuce That Thinks Its A Lettuce." "it’s A Clever Lettuce, Then." "hardly," She Said With A Delicate Snort. "why Would Anything Clever Think It’s A Lettuce?" "even If It Is A Lettuce?" I Asked. "especially Then," She Said. "bad Enough To Be A Lettuce. How Awful To Think You Are A Lettuce Too.

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

That Is How Heavy A Secret Can Become. It Can Make Blood Flow Easier Than Ink.

Don't Get Me Wrong, Magic Is Cool. But A Nervous Mother Singing To Her Child At Night While Something Moves Quietly Through The Dark Outside Her House? That's A Story. Handled Properly, It's More Dramatic Than Any Apocalypse Or Goblin Army Could Ever Be.

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've Always Liked The Moonless Night Best. It's Easier To Say Things In The Dark. It's Easier To Be Yourself.

I've Never Really Understood The Desire People Have To Quantify A Baby. "he's X Big And Y Long," As If The Baby Is A Fish You're Not Sure You're Going To Keep. Or Some Prize Potato You're Hoping Will Win A Prize At The County Fair.

Humor Is Important For Is Pacing. If Your Whole Book Is Just Drama Drama Drama, It's Going To Wear Down The Reader.

With His Eyes And Those Hands There Won't Be A Woman Safe In All The World When He Starts Hunting After The Ladies.' 'courting, Dear,' My Father Corrected Gently. 'semantics,' She Shrugged.

I Can't Give You The Moon,” The Tinker Said. “she Doesn't Belong To Me. She Belongs Only To Herself.

Simmon Pushed His Hair Out Of His Eyes, Laughing Boyishly. "you Can't Argue Your Way Out Of This One! She's Obviously Stupid For You. And You're Just Plain Stupid, So It's A Great Match.

It's The Questions We Can't Answer That Teach Us The Most. They Teach Us How To Think.

Fantasy Stories

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

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.

When The Hearthfire Turns To Blue, What To Do? What To Do? Run Outside, Run And Hide When His Eyes Are Black As Crow? Where To Go? Where To Go? Near And Far. Here They Are. See A Man Without A Face? Move Like Ghosts From Place To Place. Whats Their Plan? Whats Their Plan? Chandrian. Chandrian

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

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.

By Your Logic I Should Also Be In Charge Of Solinade Dances, Needlework, And Horse Thieving.

We Have More Brilliant Fantasy Novels Than Brilliant Fantasy Movies. Movies And Tv Are Done By Committee. But With A Novel, It's Really Just One Person Running The Show. That Allows For A Clarity And Unity Of Vision That's Pretty Unique, Artistically.

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