Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Introducing - the Slovak and Polish versions of the book.

Well it seems like most folks would like to see more Survival Guides. So we'll do that. I'll post up a few more of the old ones before too long, and send out a call for letters when I'm ready to start answering new one. So start stockpiling your problems now.

And, for those of you who give a care, here are the newest editions to The Name of the Wind family.

This cover should look familiar to most of you, as it's pretty much the same as the UK cover.

(Click to Embiggen)

Soon, my thumb will be so famous from all these appearances that it will become a celebrity in its own right. I predict it will leave for Hollywood, have a whirlwind affair with Kate Moss, develop a drinking problem, and then eventually come crawling back to Wisconsin. Which is a good thing because I need it to hit the space bar.

Anyway, the Polish version of the book has lovely paper, and a new cover which clearly depicts the scene where Kvothe, um... goes forth. Into... some manner of... um cloudy desert.

I kid. I kid. I know that not ever book gets its own tailor-made cover. By now, when a version of my book comes out with a cover that's obviously a piece of stock-art, I feel like it's one of my kids coming up to me and saying. "Guess what happened today? I went out and fought a dragon, and met a guy with a nipple ring, and I rode an elephant, and it was really cool!" I know it's not the truth, but it's still my kid, and I can't be too upset. I'm just glad he's out there, meeting new people.

The other thing I do is make up little stories that go along with the cover. For this one the story would be:

Kvothe strode through the dread portal, leaning heavily on his staff. A lesser man might have been concerned by the skulls, or been anxious about the unnatural weather that loomed on the near horizon.

But Kvothe was made of sterner stuff than this, and his thoughts dwelled on ponderous matters: "My hat," he thought to himself. "is certainly pointy. But is it pointy enough to impress the Archduke Isigniglidir?"

This morning he had been so sure, but now, looking at the Archduke's tower, Kvothe worried. This was obviously a man who was not fond of half-measures where pointy was concerned. Kvothe also wondered if it might also explain why the Archduke's new wife seemed so dissatisfied in her letter. "The tower." She had written. "Should have been my first clue."

Go on, take a stab at it yourself in the comments section. It's tons of fun.


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Anonymous pdxtrent said...

Woohoo! I get the first comment.
I will have to work up an appropriate adventure between Kvothe and the Archduke.

WV- Vidsess- A seeress who can't tune into audio in her visions.

January 13, 2009 2:56 AM  
Anonymous Ross Warren said...


I was in Poland for Christmas and can tell you they are heavily into Fantasy so your book should go down a storm.

The fantasy sections of the book stores i went to while there had more shelf space dedicated to Horror, sci-fi and fantasy than they did crime books.

January 13, 2009 4:10 AM  
Anonymous LucidLunatic said...

For some reason I'm under the impression that the Adem are a desert people. So this could be anticipating the second (or third book) when he learns the sword from them.

January 13, 2009 5:18 AM  
Blogger marky said...

So, I crossed my eyes and rubbed my two brain cells together and came up with this.

Sandivar, the lost city of Hevelrand, lay ominously through the Keyhole of the west. The cloak, which seemed like a god send whilst travelling through the sand storms, now burned his skin the closer he got to the city. Kvothe was still glad of it, still held it wrapped round him like a lovers embrace. It had helped him more than once since he found it under the University. It was in a room laden with navigation charts, charts for places spoke of only in the wildest of stories. Cities in the sky, Kingdoms under the ocean, routes through the most remote of caverns all adorned the ancient walls. At the centre of the room, the cloak hung on a boat wheel. At first he had only taken it because of its pockets, a good cloak always had plenty of pockets, and this was certainly a good cloak.

That was twenty years ago to the day, and the cloak was still with him. Warming his skin when he came close to his hearts desire; chilling his bones when he wandered off in the wrong direction. Now it burned, now Kvothe and the cloak both knew she was close. Now he would find Denna, and no one would take her from him again. Ever.

And that is the closest I’ll ever get to writing fan-fic. But it was fun to waste some time in work, as always. Cheers Pat.

January 13, 2009 5:52 AM  
Anonymous TC Big Pants said...

I can't get past the phallic shaped entry way (not to mention the tower itself.) It's making all of my ideas inappropriate.

January 13, 2009 5:58 AM  
Blogger Sailor Matt said...

Woohoo, mini-story from Pat! You wrote fanfic about your own work... doesn't that disrupt the space-time continuum in some way?

I'd write my own piece, but 1) I don't think I could out-do Marky's masterwork, and b) I only have 15.5 hours left to play WoW before bedtime. Looks like my schedule's full.

January 13, 2009 6:42 AM  
Anonymous Kip, Little Fluffy Bunnies said...

Kip's Captions:

1st Pic: "Kvothe: Lost in a Hay Maze"

2nd Pic: "Kvothe Beats Roland to the Dark Tower."

I elected captions instead of stories. My morning coffee has not yet set in, and the dry air is making my sinuses bleed, and thus causing headaches, right now involved thinking is the enemy.

January 13, 2009 6:58 AM  
Blogger Ben said...

"Ever since Kvothe's blazing red hair began taking on cloak-like properties, even the most arid, inhospitable lands could not disturb him. 'But alas', Kvothe claimed, 'visiting a king just to kill him is a sore business indeed. But then, this wouldn't be the Kingkiller Chronicles if I didn't kill at LEAST one king!'"

January 13, 2009 7:31 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Kvothe looked across the arid desert. He knew he was ready. His bag was packed with all manner of foodstuffs and other delectable goodies. Others had gone before, through jungle, swamps and even deep dark woods. Over many a path. But she was waiting. He could see her house in the distance. There were no trees or hiding places he need be warey of. In spite of his short stature and wirery frame he was ready. He pulled the crimson hood over his head and rode off to his destiny, to provide for his grandmother.

January 13, 2009 7:38 AM  
Blogger jdcb said...

Ok, I'll take a stab at it:

Kvothe, after angering the gods, found himself in a very warm dark room. Emerging, he finds himself in a small room with a single door to the outside world. Approaching he not only notices his odd garb as red as his own hair, but a vast desert, pierced only by a large ominous tower reaching up to the oncoming sand storm. As he ponders his fate, questions start racing to his mind, but two bother him greatly, "How do I get back to the University, and why am I only 2 feet tall?"

January 13, 2009 8:05 AM  
Anonymous Craig said...

Who says it has to be Kvothe on the cover? Ahem...

Taborlin sighed. The delay had cost him nearly three hours, and he was in a hurry. Those Maelish rabble, he thought, they will pay. Just as soon as I finish what I came for. But, before he strode off to find that woman once again, Taborlin turned on the spot, gazing fiercely at the tower he had been locked in. The hole in the wall was not visible at this distance.

Taborlin turned again, and began to walk.

January 13, 2009 8:19 AM  
Anonymous Taur Ohtar Sereg Wethrin said...

I believe that this is either a really bad Brian Jaques Redwall cover, or Little Red Riding Hood stepping through the 'dread portal' into narnia, to save it from the evil emperor Cuzco...the structure of the place reminds me of The Emperors New Groove, for some reason...

I'm like...taking third party offence at this. I feel perturbed for you pat.

-Taur Ohtar Sereg Wethrin

January 13, 2009 8:24 AM  
Blogger RaynDragon said...

There's no turning back now, Kvothe thought to himself, taking in the towering form of the final guard tower. It lay beyond the wall itself, shrouded in mist as if the air itself was warning him away. He adjusted his pack uncomfortably, thinking of what he was about to do.

I have to know, he reminded himself. It must be done. He steeled himself and began striding forward to meet the guardsmen.

They will never forgive me.

Okay, sounds more like a blurb than a post, but it's the best I can do without having finished my morning caffeine and prior to my shower. But it amused me to do it, which is all that's important, right? *grin*

And, honestly, Marky's was excellent.

January 13, 2009 8:30 AM  
Blogger Fae said...

Chronicler stood between the twin skulls in the heavy red cloak Kvothe had lent him and peered into the swirling blue mist. He'd heard stories about Hell. It was, after all, the kind of place stories were made for. Stories to keep children from going there. Stories to make the justice systems seem more keen. But stories never came out of Hell, which was why he was here. He'd written about everything else, about dragons, about Kvothe the Kingkiller, even a short piece on Heaven which hadn't sold more than two or three copies due to it's extremely boring truth. Hell was the last mystery left to him.

So now he stood on the edge and wondered where he had gone wrong.

"Sad isn't it?" asked a voice. Chronicler turned and saw an old man seated just beyond the door, leaning against the wall, sniffing disdainfully at the ice.

"Who're you?" he asked.

"Name's Dante. I went up to heaven, the long way round a few years ago, and was so bored I decided to come back down. When I got here I found this."

Chronicler nodded at the swirling blue.

"What is 'this'?"

"Hell. It froze over."


...unfortunately, as I writer, I was unable to determine why Hell froze over.

January 13, 2009 8:37 AM  
Blogger Cassie said...

this is like an exercise in my creative writing class. Well, not exactly, Pat isn't a pansy ass feminist b*tch

“Fog in the desert?” Kvothe thought as he approached the archway.
“Why not?” asked the left skull.
“Which should concern me more, the fog or you talking to me?” Kvothe answered without much emotion.
“Him talking to you,” the right skull answered. “He never shuts up. He’ll keep you here all day.”
“What is ahead?” Kvothe asked, staring straight at the tower before him.
“Death and pestilence,” Lefty replied. “Well, at least that’s what was there when I wasn’t stuck to a wall.”
Righty sighed. “I miss my legs.”
Kvothe leaned on his staff. “My destination lies beyond this desert.”
“I’d find another way, Red,” Lefty told him.
“What tower is that?”
“All I know is that is were the rest of me is…or was…how long have we been here again?”
Kvothe looked to Righty for a response. He swore the skull somehow shrugged.
“Not sure.”
“Are there people in that tower?” Kvothe asked.
“I’d use the term loosely, but yes. Best to avoid it if you can. Of course you can’t though. You don’t have enough supplies to get across.”
“I’ll have to make do.”
“You’ll die,” Righty said plainly.
“I think he has a shot,” Lefty countered.
Not waiting to see what odds the skulls were laying on him, Kvothe passed under the arch to the sands before him.

January 13, 2009 9:17 AM  
Blogger locallyunscene said...

The archway felt of the waystones, but heavier and colder. At first Kvothe saw only more sand and fog and despair filled his thoughts; he feared his search for her would last forever. The fog, seeming to respond to this thought, cleared revealing a massive and ominous tower.

Without thinking Kvothe reached toward the archway, and realized too late that he couldn't pull back. Determinedly pushing forward, he couldn't help wondering if the two skulls on the side of the doorway had belonged to scavengers or hunters...

January 13, 2009 11:34 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

How many times had Kvothe walked thorough this door? A thousand? Though normally Kvothe remembered everything, something about this walk to the Blue Tower of Nonergonomics made him forget. Could it be the huge ear wig skulls? Can you say “tacky”. Really, it does not matter. This time when he crossed the completely impractical desert road he would tell the tower manger that it was time for human resources to get involved. Never again would Kvothe sit in a chair with such pitiful lumbar support. Today was the day. The hour had come for a reckoning.

Can you tell I am at work?

Christian Campbell

P.S. You’re the Man! I only hope people think my book is a tenth as well written as yours.

January 13, 2009 12:32 PM  
Blogger Summer said...

... There ought to be a comma after 'himself'. And a comma and no capital 's'es in the Archduke's new wife's letter. However, I shall take the word verification code, 'horshess', as meaning that I should kindly shut up and see if I can write something ...

In the desert, heat was an absolute. It was impossible to ignore, impossible to negotiate with. Heat was the diplomat with the bad temper and bad sense of hearing, and it leeched the life out of all who passed, like ... leeches.

Kvothe the Arcane was a brave man, and a famous man, and arguably even a good man. He was also a tired man, but a stubborn one; not the kind to back down for such a difficulty as a mere bullying sun.

A mere. A mere sounded good right now ...

A bead of sweat dripped off the end of Kvothe's nose and briefly dampened the ground. He glared at it, but it didn't seem to get the message. A hero's sweat should be obedient, Kvothe thought blearily, and then he realized what he'd just thought and cursed.

"Merciful Tehlu. I'm delirious."

This was bad. Very bad. He looked up, blinking ingrained sand from his eyes. This was the end of the world, all right, or at least the closest he could ever come to it. But he could see not a single tree.

January 13, 2009 3:02 PM  
Blogger Tesse said...

Brilliant story to go by the cover.

Can't wait for your next book. I've read a few nice fantasy books in the meanwhile. But while the stories are good I miss your writing skills.

I love that passage where Kvothe walks back and you describe the silence by the sound of the belltower. (Or something...can't look it up since my brother has my book)

January 13, 2009 4:27 PM  
Blogger ripshin said...

The lone traveler paused at the entrance to the stone archway with his shoulders hunched forward and his head bowed. It wasn't the wind, however, that stopped him. Although it was a strong wind - indeed, any wind that could furl the fullness of his cloak must be considered strong - it was merely another detail to a scene that screamed, "Caution," to him.

As his road-weary mind struggled to assimilate what his senses were telling him, he realized that the word to describe it was, "eery." It wasn't just a normal eeriness, though, it was an eeriness of three parts.

The first part was the general, immediately observable eeriness. On one side of the arch was the blazing, sun-scorched desert that he had just passed through. On the other, was a cold and lifeless land filled with wind blown mist. This type of eeriness is common, and in reality, easily acceptable under many circumstances. Suffice it to say, this was not what halted the traveler in his tracks.

The second part of the eeriness was that the wind, though blowing with a steady ferocity through the arch, could not seem to bring even a wisp of fog with it. Even standing in the narrow space under the arch, where the full force of the wind was channeled and concentrated, the traveler could feel not one trace of fog on his skin. Some might have attributed this to his ridiculously long cloak, but the traveler knew better. In fact, in that narrow space the traveler could feel neither the heat of the desert (which he knew well from having passed through it), nor the chill on the land to which he was going. Eery. But again, this was not what troubled him.

The third eeriness was what troubled him, and this eeriness was much more difficult identify. It lay between the heat and cold of the two lands. It was under the wind, driving it, but not a part of it. It was in the hollow eyes of the bronzed skulls and on the turrets of the nameless tower. It encompassed all the various details of his wandering eyes and struggling senses...it was the eeriness of a man waiting...to find out what in the world this scene had to do with him, but knowing that it wasn't a part of his story at all.


WV: ermoter - one who emits "er" a lot when talking.

January 13, 2009 4:50 PM  
Blogger Tesse said...

As Kvothe laid his eyes on the giant keyhole he smiled faintly. When life makes fun of you smiling is probably the best answer. Years he had spent looking for the key, before he came to realize that he himself was what he was looking for. Kvothe could have become angry at the porch. But the porch didn't really look like it would care.

"Damn prophecies" Kvothe thought. "instead of saying 'find the key to the lock that needs no key' they might have just said 'Enter here' "

As Kvothe passed through the porch he swore he could hear the maker laugh.

January 13, 2009 5:15 PM  
Blogger Angela said...

"A 'DRINK ME' bottle?!" exclaimed Kvothe in disgust, eyeing the cup in his hand. "Spiking my Avennish fruit wine was below the belt. I told you, I belong to Patrick Rothfuss."

"No!" The disembodied voice of Lewis Carroll bellowed. "You must now stay here in my phallic shaped tower! Muahahahaha!"

Kvothe paid the tower no mind, even when the maniacal laughter began to solidify into fog. For, such were the tricksy ways of Carroll’s imaginary lands. Our hero instead turned his attention to rummaging through pockets and muttering to himself. “Alice gets seashore property and cute animal friends. *I* get a desert with a [email protected]#$ shaped castle…”

“Aha!” Proclaimed the red head, holding aloft a small cake. “Like the pastry says, Mr. Carroll: ‘EAT ME’!”

“No! Just stay for a chat, a single word. I beg you!” Cried the voice in anguish.

Shaken by pity, Kvothe lowered the dessert from his mouth. “Alright, what do you want to talk about?”

“Cheese.” Stated Carroll firmly.

“Cheese?” Asked Kvothe. At his words, a bright flash illuminated the land.

“I’ve captured you on film!” Gloated the fantasy author. “You’re mine forever! I’ll…”

Taking a bite from the cake in his hand, Kvothe left Carroll’s imagination before he could be subjected to more villainy.

He sighed as he reappeared back at the Waystone Inn. “I’d bet a hundred silver talents that picture ends up as the Polish cover.”

January 13, 2009 5:28 PM  
Blogger stephanie said...

although i don't normally post (i just sit back and enjoy the blog), i have given this Polish cover a go...

Kvothe (who had, some time before, changed his name to Randalf) sighed heavily and firmly gripped his tribal staff (given to him by the Larksa of Darmine, no less) before taking a grudging step through the ostentatiously built (but poorly named) Gate of Doom. Before him stood the Amalgar Tower, its Great Onion Face just visible through the swirling mists.

As he wandered closer, Randalf wondered vaguely why he had bothered to journey to the Tower. After all, Tolkien had offered to keep him up at Cirith Ungol. But, upon reflection, Randalf admitted that Lord Amalgar’s invitation had not included orc-stink and maggoty bread. So here he stood, his red cape billowing heroically in the wind, staring in anticipation at the sight of his new home (for a few weeks, at the least). After all, while Lord Amalgar did not possess much in the way of company, his great library held the most information on Randalf’s long-researched pet-project: How to Make Pocky. Oh, if only Jen had not fed him that delicious, chocolate-covered, Japanese treat…

January 13, 2009 5:48 PM  
Anonymous krighton said...

The wind spun the velvety red blanket towards the arch...for a brief moment resembling a man, the folds caressing the phantom's shoulders like a billowing cloak of argent fire.

January 13, 2009 6:49 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Its name is Ckelet ‘n kee, Pronounced nearly the same as “Skeleton Key”. Names are important as they tell you a great deal about a painting. It had been called more names than any painting has a right to.

The Pat minions call it Nonsensical book cover. Which depending on how its intended, can mean worst book cover ever, The Third worst book cover ever, or The Broken key.

Worst book cover is obvious if you’ve ever read NoTW. There is no sand in the book, at all. If I had seen it before I read NoTW I would Probably have been very confused.

The Third Worst book cover is attributed to a bare Chested Kvothe and an eye in a hand cover equally as nonsensical.

I’ve never thought of The Broken Key as very significant. Although in retrospect, It could be considered at least to do with the name,

Pat first described it “some manner of... um cloudy desert.”.

But it is named Ckelet ‘n kee
It has, of course, been called many other things. Most of them uncouth or funny, although very few were unearned.


January 13, 2009 6:53 PM  
Anonymous Athena said...

I'm too astonished and amused by other people's comments to make my own...so, since I can't come up with anything, I'll just applaud! Someone has to be the audience anyway. =D


January 13, 2009 11:20 PM  
Blogger Nick said...

If you haven't seen this yet (because you maybe have gone to bed or something sensible like that),

Brandon Sanderson likes you, sir. And it seems he and The Wheel of Time like Heifer as well... Yay!

In other news, I figured out how to embed a link. Yay me!

January 13, 2009 11:45 PM  
Blogger Nate said...

"I sought refuge behind the penis gateway" ~Kvothe 243 e.c.

January 14, 2009 12:45 AM  
Anonymous Steve said...


Kvothe sighed. Not only had Sim and Willem filled his room with sand, this time they'd stuck a magic portal to Melnibone in his wall as well. The student pranks were definitely getting out of hand again.

January 14, 2009 2:50 AM  
Blogger Sean said...

My name is Kvothe, pronounced nearly the same as "quothe." Names are important...
...I have talked to Gods, loved women, and written songs that make the minstrels weep.

You may have heard of me.

Also, this one time I got to stand under this key hole arch thingy that was in the middle of a desert and had these animal skulls hanging on it, and there was this big tower in the mist in the distance. Yeah, it was fucking weird for me too.

January 14, 2009 2:05 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Kvothe had had enough, the a-hole neighbor who lived in the big penis shaped tower was inconsiderate at best. He hadn't had a decent night's sleep in weeks due to the noise.

"How many times can a car alarm go off in one night?" Kvothe thought to himself while adjusting his ridiculously voluminous red cloak. "And whats with this lawn? Sand, sand and more sand, hire a damn landscaper for fuck's sake!"

January 14, 2009 3:28 PM  
Blogger michael said...

Five minutes after the cloaked figure passes through the archway....

The left skull gave a long wolf-whistle. "I'd tap that ass anyday!"

The right skull chortled. "Doubtful!"

"Yeah, whatever, bro," said the left skull. "We'll see who's the better remains-of-long-dead-animal-of-doubtful-origins at showertime."

"You wish!"
"You're absolutely awesome!"
"No, you are!"

January 14, 2009 9:21 PM  
Anonymous Kanna said...

Perhaps it's just me, but Jmie Wiatru (that's what it looks like at any rate) seems more like a name then "The Name of the Wind."

Perhaps it isn't the NOTW cover at all but a picture of the great Jmie Wiatru.

Jmie paused on the doorstep of his fate and noticed the penis shaped tower in the distance. After a minute he thought better of his quest and turned around.

These were quite possibly the funniest comments in the history of the world.

January 14, 2009 10:22 PM  
Anonymous LiquidWeird said...

Hey Pat! Check this out! Your Heifer International thing has inspired Brandon Sanderson to help out, too, and mentioned you in his Blog:


WV: fills - present tense of 'to fill'

January 15, 2009 11:00 AM  
Blogger locallyunscene said...

Bravo sean. Bravo.

January 15, 2009 11:07 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

If the archway is the penis and the tower is the urethra this poor guy is about to piss blood and should go see a specialist. ok...grossed myself out on that one....but it does look like it!

January 15, 2009 11:32 AM  
Blogger Eric said...

Kvothe was sick of being in the ant hill. It had been about a week now since he got pissed off and accidentally called the Name of Shrinkage. In the outskirts of the hill, which was where he shrunk, was the market place of the hill. It wasn't real busy, so he figured he should try and ask for help. he picked out a food stand with a selection of fine dead skin cells for the occasional bed mite traveling dorm to dorm of the university, but this was only second to the colorful array of sugar cubes.
When he made it to the stand he peered over the counter to find a elder ant with a craned back bent by old age sitting cross legged apparently in deep meditation. "Um, excuse me, but I. . .", in the middle of Kvothe's query the ant only pointed to a large door in the exceedingly large wall that as best he could guess surrounded the whole mound. "Antzatopia. . . you will find the answers to your questions there", the ant finished.
"Are you serious, I mean this is a, a, a ant hill for crying out loud, your an ant."
The ant said nothing and went back into his meditation. Kvothe gave a drawn out huff, bought a big red cloak from the old ant so that he could better blend in and took off for the door. Kvothe's thoughts were of disbelief and sarcastic agitation, "Oh and let me guess, the skulls are that of the guardian ants that I'm going to have to fight in the collesium, and, oh, oh, well would you look at that tower. Thats where I will ask the Archduke of Antzatopia for help to emgiggen me back to normal. Shouldn't Ambrose have been the one to shrink anyways!"
When Kvothe reached the door her hear the old ant yell, "remember Kvothe, wax on wax off."

January 15, 2009 2:37 PM  
Anonymous michaelonfire said...

Man, the polish cover looks awesome. The Wise Man's Fear looms closer everyday, and i can't wait! haha

January 15, 2009 10:32 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Kip, Little Fluffy Bunnies said...

2nd Pic: "Kvothe Beats Roland to the Dark Tower."

Absolutely brilliant. BTW, who would you back in a duel between Kvothe and Roland? I might take the Gunslinger at this point (sacriligeous, I know). I'm sure I'll be backing Kvothe by Book 3 :)

January 16, 2009 11:59 AM  
Anonymous Brennan said...

Speaking of Pat, fanfic and other fantasy authors:

Pat's beard grappled with George's, neither able to gain an advantage. While George's was certainly longer, Pat's beard's bushier stature made it difficult to pin down for long.

Pat egged his beard on, goading, "My series might be shorter, but it's closer to completion!"

George muttered, "Must...not...give...in...Only...on...book...5!"

With a whimper, his beard succumbed, ceding the titles of "Best Fantasy Author" and "Best Beard in Fantasy" to Pat.

January 16, 2009 12:13 PM  
Anonymous ryan k. said...

As he entered the arena, Kvothe knew this rodeo would be difficult. The animal skulls, belonging to previous bloodline champions, conveyed a distinct sense of hostility.
And the rocketship in the center of the field could mean only one thing--Kvothe would finally get to take that trip to Mars. All he had to do was convince Lord Wotombo that he was the famous bullfighting mage Oolitloo the Red. And while he was used to his flame-red hair, the blood-red robes he now wore were taking some getting used to. They chafed in odd places and the cut just wasn't quite right. Worse, they made his butt look big. Perhaps Wotombo wouldn't notice. Unless he leaned *that* way. And it that was the case, Kvothe knew he was in for a long day ... and an even longer night.
In any case, the rodeo was about to begin, so he pushed forward into the arena and sought the registration booth. He spied it, just past the rodeo clowns. He shuddered. Kvothe had fought many dangerous enemies, survived countless savage calamities ... and still, rodeo clowns scared the bejeezes out of him.
"Well, there's nothing for it," he said. And he trudged stalwartly ahead.

January 16, 2009 12:49 PM  
Anonymous Kip, Thinker-Guy said...

I would back Kvothe in a duel between him and Roland, Because Roland forgot the horn, you never forget the horn.

Seriously though, If it was an instantanious battle with no preparation, and just locking them in a room to fight or die I would pick Roland hands down, because that is what he is good at. If you allowed preparation over a large terrain, I'd have to choose Kvothe, Because while he is younger, he is also much more devious than Roland, and his wiles would definately turn the tide in his favor. Most of Rolands greatest accomplishments happen only when he is backed into a corner.

January 16, 2009 1:30 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

not sure if anyone has seen this but..


January 16, 2009 2:52 PM  
Anonymous Kip, Bunked said...

thanks for that link, now I have the mental equivlent of blue-balls.

January 16, 2009 3:42 PM  
Blogger Fluffs said...

This post has been removed by the author.

January 16, 2009 4:53 PM  
Blogger Fluffs said...

This post has been removed by the author.

January 16, 2009 4:56 PM  
Blogger Fluffs said...


How come Amazon have emailed me today saying the next book is released on April the 7th but there is no post on this blog about it?

It makes me wonder why I have bothered checking it every day for the last year.

January 16, 2009 4:57 PM  
Blogger Bryce said...

As Kvothe entered the sandy streets of Phaliston, he couldn't help but see something just off to his left. It was large and fleshy, and whenever he tried to stare straight at it, the thing eluded him. At times it looked strangely like a giant thumb...but no, that was crazy, and he had business to be about. Business that involved pointy war caps and the highest point in all of Phaliston.

By the way, I'm happy to hear that you've sequestered yourself in order to work on the book. I'm at that stage where I spend at least a minute or so a day thinking about it, so hearing that you're writing makes me want to throw you a little party.

January 16, 2009 7:27 PM  
Blogger sparkly_jules said...

I was planning on coming to the reading in Pasadena this weekend, but I'm not going to be able to make it $$$$ (unemployed English major). It's an eight hour drive for me and I just don't have the cash. Plus the relative I was going to stay with has the flu. Pass.

I hope you come to San Francisco for your next tour. That's closer for me. I'll definitely be there.

Yours in disapointment,

sparkly jules

January 16, 2009 7:49 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Liked your story Ryan K..

More entertaining then a barrel full of ....um... rodeo clowns!

word verification- Conizate
1. To trick(con) someone into eating something. Normally with malice
2.To be mindful of others feeling but not care. Halfheartedly Considerate.


January 16, 2009 9:16 PM  
Anonymous Chris said...


Kvothe had traveled 436 miles to get this close, and wasn't about to stop now. His feet hurt, true, but he has had worse pains before. Always the cautious - or at least, in his mind he was - one, he slowly stepped through the hot sandy desert that lay around him until he reached The Gate.

As he neared it, The Gate, he carefully stepped over the 'Rebis' insignia on the ground fearful that it might set off an amazingly fancy trap that would most likely end with his head being smashed with a big 40-pound plastic ball that swung from a bar that was stationed right above his head. that is, if he stepped on the insignia. It's a good thing he is a cautious person - in his mind.

As he stepped up to the large hole in The Gate he noticed two gigantic skulls, both of which were probably fake. Who knows?

And there it was, in all it's beauty. The Tower of the King. Who would have thought that it would only take Kvothe half a span to get there. Of course, who would have thought that Kvothe, the little Ruh boy at heart, would have done anything beyond playing the lute or dancing in front of some crowd of townsfolk that couldn't understand how valuable he was to the world. Who would've thought that this man was going to soon save the world!

Of course, nobody would've thought about it, not even Kvothe himself. Haha, they don't even see what's coming.


"And I think that's good for today" Kvothe said as he signalled Chronicler to put his pen down.
"What?!?" Bast started. "You didn't even say that in the first person!"
"So," Kvothe stated, "What's the matter? Is there something wrong with me wanting to tell you my story how I feel like?"
"I haven't even been writing for an hour, How can we be done for today?" Chronicler inquired.
"You're done when I say you're done." Kvothe said nonchalantly.
Chronicler looked down at his knees, trying to hold himself from going berserk or getting emotional.
"But what about me, Reshi?" Bast complained.
"You can go scrub the stalls."
Bast got up slowly from his chair. "Reshi?"
"Yes, Bast?"
"You're joking, right?"

okay okay, I don't know if that's particularly what anyone else had in mind, heck, I didn't even have that in mind when I was typing it. Call it improvisational fan-fic. peace!

oh yeah, see ya tomorrow Pat... hopefully.

- Chris

January 16, 2009 10:42 PM  
Blogger rob said...

carince,when your stylist loves you and washes your hair with extra care.

I'm still working on the hardcover, but here is the second book.

You stand within a PASSAGE richly ornamented with the GOLDEN SKULLS of some GREAT BEAST. In the distance a LOFTY TOWER emerges from CLOUDS OF SAND. You may continue N or return S.

"look PASSAGE"
a few feet of rough hewn sandstone allow passage through the mysterious WALL that BISECTS the desert landscape

"help BISECT"
did you fail geometry? uninstall and stop cutting class.

"toggle SNARK off"

"look SKULL"
These horned skulls remind you of the COMMON DRACCUS, yet they appear to be of solid gold! Though you have faced DRUG FIEND DRACI before, you feel a wave of dread inspecting these skulls.

"get SKULL"
you reach out to pull the skull from the wall, but they are strongly fixed and you cannot move them.

you take 15 damage.

you heave upon your lever and move the world! the skull falls to the desert floor with a resonant boom. Suddenly, darkness falls.

You are in the DARK.

"attack DARK with MAGIC MISSLE"

you cast your magic darts into the dark with no result.

"look DARK"
Alas, you have hesitated too long in the dark, and you are being digested by a GRU.


January 17, 2009 6:19 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Does this story has any thing to do with the Adems?

January 19, 2009 3:53 AM  
Blogger Jonathan said...

Kvothe snickered as he stared at another traveler pausing in the gate to stare at the building unofficially known as "Ambroses' Love." This would teach the university that it was a bad idea to place him in charge of jobs that were a waste of his prodigious talent. They would never force him to design an outhouse for the campus again.

January 19, 2009 8:24 PM  
Blogger Amanda said...

Is it bad that I'm excited that you haven't been updating, cause I take it to mean you're writing a lot?

Cause I am.

January 20, 2009 6:01 PM  
Blogger Granite said...

This post has been removed by the author.

January 21, 2009 12:05 AM  
Blogger Fe2O3 said...

@sean - Bravo! Made me snort out loud. ...this one time, at band camp...

@rob - funny, but the end was predictable. I liked it anyway.

Wish I had a little more time to work up my own entry. For now I'll join the audience and applaud all the creative entries.

clap, clap, clap, clap, clap,
clap, clap, clap, clap, clap,
clap, clap, clap, clap, clap

January 21, 2009 12:08 AM  
Blogger Art-Jan said...

Denna!! Hang on you hear me!? Just dont loose your grip! Im coming your way.

Hmm, Thats still quite some distance though....

2) The man in red fled across the desert and the gunslinger followed.

3) Already a little frustrated Kvothe opened the door and continued to the Pechsteins' tower. 'What a man all has to do these days to get himself a cup of sugar' he spoke to himself...

January 21, 2009 11:13 AM  
Anonymous Daniel Manthorpe said...

After arriving at Sarradaus Prison, if I lived up to one of my rumours recently gained on the journey, I would have tracked down and castrated the author of the travel log that brought me there after my visit. Now from firsthand experience, the large grassy plains with their blissfull secluded beach detours was the complete reverse. The locals were not at all friendly and welcoming. The book had also failed to mention how the prison was abandoned and left with skeleton staff during the colder spans of the year, and so my person sought in question was now many islands away. The traveller had obviously never been here.
He was in luck; soon on I discovered enquiring he had died on a later sloppy assignment.Dehydration was the cause of death, and so perhaps my great suffering on the way had brought the book writer rough justice.

January 21, 2009 8:45 PM  
Blogger ChrisB said...

In her denner resin laden dream Denna began mumbling words that immediately grabbed Kvothe's attention. It was another verse of Lady Lackless!
In the desert storms blow quick. There his tower hard as brick.
To and fro his pointy hat moves.
Bring your staff through the door without a handle.
Eyes of a cow skull you can hear the moos...

January 28, 2009 2:56 PM  
Blogger Nathan said...

I can't wait!!

Haha, I loved the mock story. I'm sure Kvothe dedicates the time required to ponder such things of the importance of the pointy-ness of his hat :D

January 29, 2009 3:26 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I am so exited over the polish translation of your book !! I am a big fan and love your work, I.m also blessed cause i can read in english, which gives me more choices in books. But now my sister and couple of friends that love fantasy books can also enjoy your work ! I told them all about Name of the Wind, and now they can judge for themselves, im sure they will love it !!

February 11, 2009 6:08 PM  
Blogger Eamon said...

Wow. Imagine a short story about Roland and Kvothe. Kvothe actually being brought into the story after Rolands failure to remember the horn. I honestly don't know whose side i'd be on. I love Roland. He was amazing. But Kvothe is just as cool. I guess these storys will only ever exist in our minds hehe.

March 31, 2009 12:39 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

in case nobody pointed it out yet, this same bad art is used on "the dungeon" by Philip jose farmer.

June 8, 2009 2:03 PM  

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