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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.

-Patrick Rothfuss

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You See, Women Are

Patrick Rothfuss

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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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The Thing That Helps Me Do A Good Job Is That I Don't Feel The Need To Explain Everything About The World To My Reader. I'm Not Writing A History Text On The Four Corners. I'm Telling A Story That's Set There. The Setting Belongs In The Background For The Most Part, And It's Easy For Fantasy Authors To Forget That. That's One Of The Unfortunate Parts Of Tolkien's Legacy, In My Opinion. Read The First Hundred Pages Of The Fellowship Of The Ring And You Start To Get Pissed, "shut Up About The Shire's Museums! Isn't The World Supposed To Be In Peril Or Something?"

There Are Two Sure Ways To Lose A Friend, One Is To Borrow, The Other To Lend.

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.

Over The Last Month I Had Pulled A Woman From A Blazing Inferno. I Had Called Fire And Lighting Down On Assassins And Escaped To Safety. I Had Even Killed Something That Could Have Been Either A Dragon Or A Demon, Depending On Your Point Of View. But There In That Room Was The First Time I Actually Felt Like Any Sort Of Hero. If You Are Looking For A Reason For The Man I Would Eventually Become, If You Are Looking For A Beginning, Look There.

I Was Heavily Influenced By My First Attempt At A Novel. I Started A Fantasy Novel Back In High School, And... Well... It Really Sucked. It Was A Plotless, Clichéd Mess.

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

The Truth Is I've Worked A Lot Of Things People Would Consider Shitty Jobs But I've Never Really Hated Any Of Them.

You Can't Write Good Characters If You Can't Imagine What It's Like Being In Another Person's Skin. And If You Can Imagine That, You Naturally Want Other People's Lives To Be Better. You Want To Make That Happen.

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.

All The Truth In The World Is Held In Stories.

A Troublesome Question? Those Tend To Be The Only Whorthwhile Kind.

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.

My Most Popular Blogs End Up Being The Ones Where I Talk About Being A Dad.

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

In My Opinion There Are Two Basic Questions That Any Writer Tries To Answer. "what Is?" Is The Question Non-fiction Asks. "what If?" Is The Question Fiction Asks. That's The Question I'm More Interested In.

I Thought Of All The Others Who Had Tried To Tie Her To The Ground And Failed. So I Resisted Showing Her The Songs And Poems I Had Written, Knowing That Too Much Truth Can Ruin A Thing. And If That Meant She Wasn't Entirely Mine, What Of It? I Would Be The One She Could Always Return To Without Fear Of Recrimination Or Question. So I Did Not Try To Win Her And Contented Myself With Playing A Beautiful Game. But There Was Always A Part Of Me That Hoped For More, And So There Was A Part Of Me That Was Always A Fool.

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.

With Slow Care Rather Than Stealth We Must Approach The Subject Of A Certain Woman. Her Wildness Is Of Such Degree, I Fear Approaching Her Too Quickly Even In A Story. Should I Move Recklessly, I Might Startle Even The Idea Of Her Into Sudden Flight.

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

No Man Is Brave That Has Never Walked A Hundred Miles. If You Want To Know The Truth Of Who You Are, Walk Until Not A Person Knows Your Name. Travel Is The Great Leveler, The Great Teacher, Bitter As Medicine, Crueler Than Mirror-glass. A Long Stretch Of Road Will Teach You More About Yourself Than A Hundred Years Of Quiet Introspection.

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'm A Firm Supporter Of The Word Polyamory. But That One Is Close To My Heart.

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

All Stories Are True," Skarpi Said. "but This One Really Happened, If That's What You Mean.

Science Is Just Magic With Better Pr.

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.

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.

Remember This Son, If You Forget Everything Else. A Poet Is A Musician Who Can't Sing. Words Have To Find A Man's Mind Before They Can Touch His Heart. And, Some Men's Minds Are Woeful Small Targets. Music Touches Their Hearts Directly, No Matter How Small Or Stubborn The Mind Of The Man Who Listens.

All Stories Are True.

I Have, Of Course, Been Called Many Other Things. Most Of Them Uncouth, Although Very Few Were Unearned

Name Of The Wind

It's Easier To Write About Heartbreak After You've Had Your Heart Broken. You Have More Material To Draw From, You Can Extrapolate From Your Own Experiences And Make Reasonable Assumptions About How Your Characters Would Feel And Act.

Generally My Favorite Remarks Always Come From My Readers. I've Had People Say My Books Made Them Laugh, Or Cry, Or That It Frightened Them Late At Night.

Ambrose, Your Presence Is The Horseshit Frosting On The Horseshit Cake That Is The Admissions Interview Process.

Frequently, An Author Gets "orphaned" At A Publisher. What This Means Is That An Editor Buys Their Book, Then Ends Up Getting Fired, Promoted, Or Transferred To A Different Job Somewhere Else. It Sucks For The Author Because Suddenly The Person Who Liked Your Book Enough To Buy It Isn't Around To Help You Edit And Promote It.

I Needed To Let Them Know They Couldn't Hurt Me. I've Learned That The Best Way To Stay Safe Is To Make Your Enemies Think You Can't Be Hurt.

Too Much Truth Confuses The Facts. Too Much Honesty Makes You Sound Insincere.

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.

The Boy Grows Upward, But The Girl Grows Up.

It's Like Everyone Tells A Story About Themselves Inside Their Own Head. Always. All The Time. That Story Makes You What You Are. We Build Ourselves Out Of That Story.

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.

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

...if I Have Ever Met Someone Without A Single Shadow On Their Heart, It Was Surely A Child Too Young For Speaking.

The Myth Stems From The Belief That Writing Is Some Mystical Process. That It's Magical. That It Abides By Its Own Set Of Rules Different From All Other Forms Of Work, Art, Or Play.but That's Bullshit. Plumbers Don't Get Plumber's Block. Teachers Don't Get Teacher's Block. Soccer Players Don't Get Soccer Block. What Makes Writing Different? Nothing. The Only Difference Is That Writers Feel They Have A Free Pass To Give Up When Writing Is Hard.

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.

I Always Read. You Know How Sharks Have To Keep Swimming Or They Die? I’m Like That. If I Stop Reading, I Die.

I'm Not A Stereotypical Professor Type. I Don't Smoke A Pipe And Wear A Tweedy Jacket. I'm More Like A Student Who Stayed At The University For So Long That They Gave Him A Job To Keep Him Out Of Trouble.

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.

I've Waited A Long Time To Show These Flowers How Pretty You Are.

Still, These Days When I Daydream About The Movie, I Don't Think About The Big Picture. It's More Fun For Me To Think Of Little Things That Would Add To The Movie. I Like To Think The Powers That Be Would Let Me Amuse Myself With Some Small Things In Order To Shut Me Up While They Re-write The Screenplay To Turn Kvothe Into A Lesbian, Shape-changing Unicorn.

I Only Know One Story. But Oftentimes Small Pieces Seem To Be Stories Themselves.

If I Talk About What I'm Good At, I Seem Like I'm A Conceited Egomaniac.

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.

I Want A Magical Horse That Fits In My Pocket," Wil Said. "and A Ring Of Red Amber That Gives Me Power Over Demons. And An Endless Supply Of Cake.

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.

Writing From A Teen's Perspective Is Easy As Pie. At Least I've Actually Been A Teen. I've Never Been A Woman, Or An Ethnic Minority, Or A Weary Old Man. If Anything, Writing From The Perspective Of A Child Is Probably Easier For Me. When I Was A Kid Everyone Thought I Was So Clever And Precocious. Now That I'm Adult, Everyone Thinks That I'm Kinda Odd And Childish.

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

Congratulations

Name Of The Wind

To Deem Us Simply Enemies Is To Lose The True Flavor Of Our Relationship. It Was More Like The Two Of Us Entered Into A Business Partnership In Order To More Efficiently Pursue Our Mutual Interest Of Hating Each Other.

Isn't That The Way Of The World? We Want The Sweet Things, But We Need The Unpleasant Ones.

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

I Walked Across The Polished Marble Floor And Sat On A Red Velvet Lounging Couch. I Idly Wondered How Exactly One Was Supposed To Lounge. I Couldn't Remember Ever Doing It Myself. After A Moment's Consideration, I Decided Lounging Was Probably Similar To Relaxing, But With More Money In Your Pocket.

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

Fantasy Stories

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.

Do You Know What It's Like To Run Spellcheck For Six Hours? It's Like A Party In Purgatory. A Party In Purgatory Where All They Have To Drink Is Sugar-free Kool-aid, And The Only Game To Play Is Monopoly, And None Of Your Friends Show Up.

It Gets Tiresome Being Spoken To As If You Are A Child, Even If You Happen To Be One.

The Chancellor Looked Down At The Empty Table For A Minute. Then He Shrugged, Looked Up, And Gave A Surprisingly Jaunty Smile. "all In Favor Of Admitting First-term Kvothe's Reckless Use Of Sympathy As Proof Of Mastery Of Basic Principles Of Sympathy Vote By Show Of Hands.

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

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.

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.

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

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.

I Like Your Manly Bravado," She Said. "do It Some More.

It's My Opinion That If You're Trying To Tell A Realistic Story That Centers Around Realistic Characters, You Can't Help But Touch On Important Issues. Those Issues Are What Make Us Human.

Knowing Your Own Ignorance Is The First Step To Enlightenment.

My Thought Is, If You're A Book Lover, You're Going To Enjoy Winning A Book Even If It's Not Something You'd Ordinarily Pick Up On Your Own. It's A Chance To Expand Your Horizons A Little.

She Taught Me I Should Never Do Anything In Private I Did Not Want Talked About In Public, And Cautioned Me Not To Talk In My Sleep.

Each Woman Is Like An Instrument, Waiting To Be Learned, Loved, And Finely Played, To Have At Last Her Own True Music Made.

A Lot Of New Writers Assume You Have To Know The Where The Story Is Going And That It Flows Out As Molten Gold. But Really, Sometimes You Think You Are Going To One Place, But Then You Decide That Is Dumb Idea. Then You Go Somewhere Else And It Is A Worse Idea. But Then You Switch Again And You Might Have A Beautiful Accident.

I Won The Only Duel I Ever Lost.

It's Hard To Be Wrongfully Accused, But It's Worse When The People Looking Down On You Are Clods Who Have Never Read A Book Or Traveled More Than Twenty Miles From The Place They Were Born.

Language Is Inexorably Tied To Power And Understanding. And Power And Understanding Are The Roots Of Magic. Just The Act Of Writing Something Down Is A Magical Act.

We Are More Than The Parts That Form Us.

Name Of The Wind

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

We Understand How Dangerous A Mask Can Be. We All Become What We Pretend To Be.

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

Whenever You Write A Character, You Want To Make Them Themselves, You Want To Make Them Unique. You Don't Want Fifty Characters In Your Book And They All Pretty Much Act And Think The Same Except They Have Different Colored Hair.

Reading Can Almost Be Viewed As Empathy Training. Movies Have Better Action Scenes, Sure. But Books Are Uniquely Suited To Showing You The Inside Of Another Person's Head. That Is The Root Of Empathy. That's The First Step To Understanding You're Not Alone In The World.

I Think One Of The Biggest Mistakes You Can Make As A Writer Is To Follow Your Initial [writing] Plan Too Stringently. A Story Needs Room To Grow And Evolve.

Here's The Thing: Authors Live Or Die By Recommendations. [that's One Of The Reason I Review So Many Books On Goodreads.] Giving Books You Love Good Reviews Is One Of The Nicest Things You Can Do For An Author. What's More It's Good For The Entire Community.

I'm Pretty Good At Putting Up Drywall And I'm An Excellent Kisser. That's Pretty Much All Of My Skills Right There.

Do Not Mistake Me For My Mask. You See Light Dappling On The Water And Forget The Deep, Cold Dark Beneath.

He Then Proceeded To Shout At Alpha And Beta, A Sign That He Was In A Genuine Good Mood. They Took It As Calmly As Ever, In Spite Of The Fact That He Accused Them Of Things I'm Sure No Donkey Has Ever Willingly Done, Especially Not Beta, Who Possessed Impeccable Moral Character.

We Try To Spread The Word About The Charity By Doing Fun Little Stunts To Catch People's Attention. Like When Hank Green Did A Music Video For Us.

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

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.

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.

Just A Little. Just The First Faint Breath Of Love... It Wasn’t Dramatic, Like Some Bolt Of Lightning With A Crack Of Thunder Following. It Was More Like When Flint Strikes Steel And The Spark Fades Almost Too Fast For You To See. But Still, You Know It’s There, Down Where You Can’t See, Kindling.

I'm Honestly Not A Big Fan Of Pitching Things. I'm A Firm Believer Of Letting The Product Speak For Iteself.

Most Games Follow A Real Railroad Plot, No Matter What You Want, You're Following Their Storyline To Its Unavoidable Conclusion. I'd Like To Write A Game Where Your Character Can Follow Any Number Of Possible Story Arcs And Sub-plots.

Then I Felt Something Inside Me Break And Music Began To Pour Out Into The Quiet. My Fingers Danced; Intricate And Quick They Spun Something Gossamer And Tremulous Into The Circle Of Light Our Fire Had Made. The Music Moved Like A Spiderweb Stirred By A Gentle Breath, It Changed Like A Leaf Twisting As It Falls To The Ground, And It Felt Like Three Years Waterside In Tarbean, With A Hollowness Inside You And Hands That Ached From The Bitter Cold.

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

I Spoke It Soft, But Close Enough To Brush Against Her Lips. I Spoke It Quiet, But Near Enough So That The Sound Of It Went Twining Through Her Hair. I Spoke It Hard And Firm And Dark And Sweet.

The Day We Fret About The Future Is The Day We Leave Our Childhood Behind.

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

This Is The Nature Of Love." Vashet Said. "to Attempt To Describe It Will Drive A Woman Mad. This Is What Keeps Poets Scribbling Endlessly Away. If One Could Pin It To Paper All Complete, The Others Would Lay Down Their Pens. But It Cannot Be Done.

Auri," I Asked Slowly, "are You Joking With Me?" She Looked Up And Grinned. "yes I Am," She Said Proudly. "isn't It Wonderful?

That Was Another Lesson I Had Learned Perhaps Too Well: People Meant Pain.

That Is Like Throwing Two Virgins Into A Bed. Enthusiasm, Passion, And Ignorance Are Not A Good Combination. Someone Is Likely To Get Hurt.

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.

I Guess I'm Destined To Be Loveless

I Was Just Wondering Why You're Here.

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 Priests And Fools Are Fearless And I've Never Been On The Best Of Terms With God.

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

Did I Ever Mention I Used To Be A Delivery Driver Too? I Was. I Can Read A Map. What’s More, Using A Brilliant Mixture Of Zen Navigation, Aristotelian Logic, And Pure Rage I Can Get You Your Package And/or Delicious Sandwich Relatively Close To On-time.

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.

I Will Say The Most Raw Joy I've Experienced Reading Has Probably Come From The Times I've Been Reading With My Little Boys.

If You Can Find Someone Like That, Someone Who You Can Hold And Close Your Eyes To The World With, Then You're Lucky.

Music Sounds Different To The One Who Plays It. It Is The Musician's Curse.

When We Are Children We Seldom Think Of The Future. This Innocence Leaves Us Free To Enjoy Ourselves As Few Adults Can. The Day We Fret About The Future Is The Day We Leave Our Childhood Behind.

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.

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.

That's All That Really Matters In The End. Stories.

Elodin Looked At Me. "what A Remarkably Honest Threat," He Said. "normally They're Much More Growlish And Gristly Than That." "gristly?" I Asked, Emphasizing The 't.' "don't You Mean Grisly?" "both," He Said. "usually There's A Lot Of, 'i'll Break Your Knees. I'll Break Your Neck.'" He Shrugged. "makes Me Think Of Gristle, Like When You're Boning A Chicken.

I Was Nervous About Writing Slow Regard.

Soft Fantasy Worlds Have A Much Looser Cause-and-effect Relationship. Alchemists Can Turn Lead Into Gold And Nobody Wonders About How It Will Impact The Currency System. Someone Waves A Wand And Turns An Elephant Into A Mouse And Nobody Worries About Conservation Of Mass.

I Believe It, Chronicler Found Himself Thinking. Before It Was Just A Story, But Now I Can Believe It. This Is The Face Of A Man Who Has Killed An Angel.

It's Hard For A Newbie Author To Get Noticed.

I Also Felt Guilty About The Three Pens I'd Stolen, But Only For A Second. And Since There Was No Convenient Way To Give Them Back, I Stole A Bottle Of Ink Before I Left.

She Looked At Me. "what? Is There Something Wrong With My Idea?" "it's Not Very Heroic," I Said Dismissively. "i Was Expecting Something With A Little More Flair." "well, I Left My Armor And Warhorse At Home," She Said. "you're Just Upset Because Your Big University Brain Couldn't Think Of A Way, And My Plan Is Brilliant.

...hear Rumors And Go Digging For The Painful Truth Beneath The Lovely Lies. You Believe You Have A Right To These Things, But You Don't. When Someone Tells You A Piece Of Their Life, They're Giving You A Gift, Not Granting You Your Due.

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.

Truth Is A Troublesome Motherfucker Unless It's Handled Properly

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.

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

I Grew Up Reading Tolkien, And I Love Him. But I Love Him In The Way That You Love That Rambly Old Grandfather. You Have To Sit Through Some Pretty Off-topic Stuff Before He Starts Telling His Cool Old War Stories.

I Think The Tendency To Over-explain And Over Describe Is One Of The Most Common Failings In Fantasy. It's An Unfortunate Piece Of Tolkien's Legacy. Don't Get Me Wrong, Tolkien Was A Great Worldbuilder, But He Got A Little Caught Up Describing His World At Times, At The Expense Of The Overall Story.

I Think Authors Are Just Realizing There's No Real Reason To Feel Limited To A Narrow Set Of Genre Rules In Their Writing. There's No Reason A Mystery Novel Can't Have Fantastic Elements In It. Similarly, There's No Reason Why Your Epic Fantasy Series Can't Have Elements Of A Mystery.

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

I Take Back Everything I Ever Said About That Boy Being Clever." He Turned Around To Face The Bar While Leveling An Accusatory Finger At The Closed Door. "that," He Said Firmly To The Room In General, "is What Comes Of Working With Iron Every Day.

Auri Took It, And Peered Inside The Small Leather Sack. “why This Is Lovely, Kvothe. What Lives In The Salt?” Trace Minerals, I Thought. Chromium, Bassal, Malium, Iodine . . . Everything Your Body Needs But Probably Can’t Get From Apples And Bread And Whatever You Manage To Scrounge Up When I Can’t Find You. “the Dreams Of Fish,” I Said. “and Sailor’s Songs.

Beer Dulls A Memory, Brand Sets It Burning, But Wine Is The Best For A Sore Heart's Yearning.

For Me The Really Cool Parts Of Being An Author Don't Have Anything To Do With Getting Onto A Bestseller List.

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.

Stories Only Happen To People Who Can Tell Them.

Are You Hurt?" "absolutely," I Said. "especially In My Everywhere.

It Was The Patient, Cut-flower Sound Of A Man Who Is Waiting To Die.

When You Love Something, You Have To Make Sure It Loves You Back, Or You'll Bring About No End Of Trouble Chasing It.

Fantasy Is My Favorite Genre For Reading And Writing. We Have More Options Than Anyone Else, And The Best Props And Special Effects. That Means If You Want To Write A Fantasy Story With Norse Gods, Sentient Robots, And Telepathic Dinosaurs, You Can Do Just That. Want To Throw In A Vampire And A Lesbian Unicorn While You're At It? Go Ahead.

You Lack The Requisite Spine And Testicular Fortitude To Study Under Me.

The Best Lies About Me Are The Ones I Told.

I Wanted To Tell Her That She Was The First Beautiful Thing I Had Seen In Three Years. That The Sight Of Her Yawning To The Back Of Her Hand Was Enough To Drive The Breath From Me. How I Sometimes Lost The Sense Of Her Words In The Sweet Fluting Of Her Voice. I Wanted To Say That If She Were With Me Then Somehow Nothing Could Ever Be Wrong For Me Again.

So Stapes Conducted A Dinner For Just The Two Of Us, Then Informed Me Of A Dozen Small But Important Mistakes I Had Made. Setting Down A Dirty Utensil Was Considered Crude, For Example. That Meant It Was Perfectly Acceptable To Lick One's Knife Clean. In Fact, If You Didn't Want To Dirty Your Napkin It Was The Only Seemly Thing To Do.

There Are Few Things As Nauseating As Pure Obedience.

It Was Wise Enough To Know Itself, And Brave Enough To Be Itself, And Wild Enough To Change Itself While Somehow Staying Altogether True.

The Cost Of A Loaf Is A Simple Thing, And So A Loaf Is Often Sought, But Some Things Are Past Valuing: Laughter, Land, And Love Are Never Bought.

Old Cob Tucked Away His Bowl Of Stew With The Predatory Efficency Of A Lifetime Bachelor.

The Framed Tale Is, In My Opinion, One Of The Most Natural Ways To Tell A Story. If You Think Of It, The Conceit Of The Frame-less Story Is Actually The Odd Way Of Doing Things. Without The Frame, How Do You Know The Context For A Story?

I Learned To Love The Feel Of Good Words.

You Do Not Know The First Note Of The Music That Moves Me.

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?

I Have Heard What Poets Write About Women. They Rhyme And Rhapsodize And Lie. I Have Watched Sailors On The Shore Stare Mutely At The Slow-rolling Swell Of The Sea. I Have Watched Old Soldiers With Hearts Like Leather Grow Teary-eyed At Their King's Colors Stretched Against The Wind. Listen To Me: These Men Know Nothing Of Love. You Will Not Find It In The Words Of Poets Or The Longing Eyes Of Sailors. If You Want To Know Of Love, Look To A Trouper's Hands As He Makes His Music. A Trouper Knows.

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.

I Firmly Believe That We're All Good People, But Sometimes It's Hard To Understand How To Do Good.

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

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.

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.

I Was Reluctant To Talk About My Kids On The Blog. I Kept Telling Myself, "people Aren't Coming Here For Stories About Your Kids. They Want To Hear About The Upcoming Books, Writing Advice, Conventions..."

Music Is A Proud, Temperamental Mistress. Give Her The Time And Attention She Deserves, And She Is Yours. Slight Her And There Will Come A Day When You Call And She Will Not Answer. So I Began Sleeping Less To Give Her The Time She Needed.

It's A Shame You Left Without A Word, You Know. She Was Just Beginning To Trust You Before That. Before You Got Angry. Before You Ran Off. Just Like Every Other Man In Her Life. Lusting After Her, Full Of Sweet Words, Then Just Walking Away. Leaving Her Alone. Good Thing She's Used To It By Now, Isn't It? Otherwise You Might Have Hurt Her. Otherwise You Just Might Have Broken That Poor Girl's Heart

Now That I Understand How Publishing Schedules Work, I Can Understand Why Many Authors Have The Sophomore Slump. A Year Is A Long Time To Wait For A Sequel, But It's A Short, Short Time To Write A Sequel.

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

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, [...}

You,” I Said, “are Sweet Music In A Distant Room.

The Way I Cook It's More Like Mad Science. There's A Lot Of Inspiration And Dramatic Failure With The Occasional Gorgeous Success.

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

Some Of My Arcanum Bunkmates Taught Me A Card Game Called Dogs-breath. I Returned The Favor By Giving An Impromptu Lesson In Psychology, Probability, And Manual Dexterity. I Won Almost Two Whole Talents Before They Stopped Inviting Me Back To Their Games.

I’d Heard You Were Dead.” "i Heard You Wear A Red Lace Corset,” I Said Matter-of-factly. “but I Don’t Believe Every Bit Of Nonsense That Gets Rumored About.

I Think The Best Part Of Being An Author Is That I Get To Learn About Anything I Want And Explain It Away As Research.

I Swear I've Never Met A Man Who Has Your Knack For Lack Of Social Grace. If You Weren't Naturally Charming, Someone Would Have Stabbed You By Now.

No Hard Feelings About That Time In The Crucible When You Mixed My Salts And I Was Nearly Blind For A Day. No. No, Really, Drink Up!

If You Fall, You Fall," Elodin Shrugged. "sometimes Falling Teaches Us Things Too." In Dreams You Often Fall Before You Wake.

A Poet Is A Musician Who Can't Sing.

You Are An Educated Man. You Know There Are No Such Things As Demons." Bast Smiled A Terrible Smile. "there Is Only My Kind." Bast Leaned Closer Still, Chronicler Smelled Flowers On His Breath. "you Are Not Wise Enough To Fear Me As I Should Be Feared. You Do Not Know The First Note Of The Music That Moves Me.

Sometimes I Go Outside After A Long Stretch Of Writing And I'm Surprised It's Not Raining. Or That It's Daylight. Or That It's Not The Middle Of Winter. I Don't Know If That Level Of Immersion Is Normal, But It's Now I Do Things. I Like It. It Works Well For Me.

Roses! I Swear You Men Have All Your Romance From The Same Worn Book. Flowers Are A Good Thing, A Sweet Thing To Give A Lady. But It Is Always Roses, Always Red, And Always Perfect Hothouse Blooms When They Can Come By Them.

I Would Never Normally Approach A Woman In This Way, But I Couldn't Help But Notice That You Have The Eyes Of A Lady I Was Once Desperately In Love With. " "what A Shame To Love Only Once," She Said, Showing Her White Teeth In A Wicked Smile. "i've Heard Some Men Can Manage Twice Or Even More." I Ignored Her Gibe. "i Am Only A Fool Once. Never Will I Love Again.

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

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.

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.

Just Because I Tread Heavily On Propriety's Toes Doesn't Mean I Can't Play The Game When It's Of Use To Me.

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.

I've Read Fantasy My Whole Life. Quite Literally; My Mom Read Me The Hobbit Before I Could Read Stuff To Myself. So I Love Fantasy; That's What I Read For Fun, It's What I Read Professionally To Keep Abreast Of What's In The Genre - It's Where My Heart Is.

Coming To Grips With Being A Bit Of A Celebrity. That's Not Anything I Ever Expected To Have To Deal With In My Life.

85% Of Modern Music Doesn't Have A Damn Thing To Do With Music. It Has To Do With Looking Good. Name Me One Woman On The Top Ten Right Now Who Isn't Absolutely Smoking Hot. You Think That's A Coincidence?

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.

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.

There Is A Difference Between Something Being Essential, And It Being Necessary. If You Take Your Favorite Book And Strip It Down To What Is Merely Essential To Tell The Story, It Would Be Butchery. The End Result Would Horrify You. Essential Is The Bones Of The Story, But The Soul Lives Somewhere Else.

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.

For Me, Language Is Something That I've Always Loved. When I Read, That's What I Look For. When I Write, That's What I Strive For.

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.

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