Friday, February 12, 2010
From the Archives: V-Day

I've had several people e-mail me in this last week asking for Valentine's Day advice.

Unfortunately, I'm at the end of a long stretch of revisions right now, and it would break my stride to write an appropriately frothy, bile-filled screed about this most abhorrent of qua-holidays.

Then I realized I didn't need to write a new screed. I probably had an old one on file from when I wrote a weekly advice column for the college paper.

So I dug around in my files a bit and found one. Actually, I found several, but here's the one I liked the best.

Share and Enjoy:

*****

Dear Pat,

What are your feelings towards Valentine's Day? Personally, I believe it is just another Hallmark holiday in which consumerism reaches its ugly hand in the picture, forcing couples to exchange gifts and singles to feel like crap.

By the way, what are you getting your girlfriend/sister? Teehee.

Jessie

For those of you who missed last week's column, the last line of Jessie's letter is a reference to a joke I made. Just so nobody is confused let me re-state again, for the record, that I am NOT dating my sister.

Not that there's anything wrong with my sister, mind you. She's great: smart, funny, and hot. It's just that we're really good friends, and I worry that getting into a relationship might jeopardize that.

*ahem* Okay. Moving on.

Honestly Jessie, I'd all but forgotten that Valentine's Day is coming up. You see, I don't pay much attention to crap like that. And that's what VD is: a big, steamy pile of crap in a shiny heart-shaped box.

You were right in your letter. As a holiday, it's made-up bullshit. But Hallmark didn't start it, Chaucer did. He wrote "The Parliament of Fowles" back in the late 1300's. I tell you, there's only one time in history that more crap has been spawned from bad poetry, and that's the musical Cats.

Now I don't want to get a bunch of huffy letters with people telling me VD all started with St. Valentine, the priest who was imprisoned and fell in love with the jailer's daughter. If it were true, February 14th would be Go-Fuck-A-Priest day. A holiday, I might add, that I would wholeheartedly endorse.

But no, what we have is Valentine's Day. The day designed to convince you that if you don't spend money on someone, right now then you're not really in love. Prove your eternal devotion through a four-dollar greeting card sporting some freakishly deformed bug-eyed puppy on the front. Go ahead and give someone the severed sexual organs of a plant. Diamonds are forever. Every Kiss begins with Kay.


(You can tell it's an older column, because Brett's illustration
is in B&W and optimized for newspaper printing.)

Now I'm not just saying this because I don't have a girlfriend and I'm frothing at the mouth with bitter loneliness and rage. Contrary to what you might think, I do have a girlfriend.

I know, it seems to go against all the laws of god and nature. But not only do I have a girlfriend, not only have we been in a happy, healthy relationship for almost six years, but Sarah is sweet, kind, smart, funny, and almost unfathomably hot.

I know, it boggles the mind.

There are many theories among my family and friends as to why someone like her would take time to smile in my direction, let alone date me for six years.

Some of my more religious-minded friends used to believe that she was working off a hefty karmic debt from a previous life. But this theory lost credibility when one of my calculus-savvy Buddhist friends did the math for me, showing how much bad karma Sarah was actually burning off by dealing with me on a daily basis.

What it boils down to is this, if Sarah had, say, beaten a nun to death with a bag of kittens in a previous life, she could have worked that off in about three weeks of putting up with my endless bullshit. In fact, after six years of living with me she's built up so much good karma that she'll most likely reincarnate as a transcendent being composed entirely of white light and multiple orgasms.

Other theories held by my friends and parents include: blackmail, Truman-Show style conspiracy, and the suspicion that she is performing a prolonged psychological experiment.

What does Sarah herself say? I'll go ask….

In response to the question, "Why the hell do you love me, anyway?" Sarah responded thusly:

"Some part of my soul recognizes part of your soul as being really awesome. And sometimes you take out the trash." Sarah then made several sexually explicit comments that cannot be reprinted here. Suffice to say that apparently I possess certain skills that shall remain nameless.

Lastly, she gazed rapturously at me and said that I was "gorgeous."

All this seems to confirm my personal theory, that she has some kind of brain tumor that makes her love me. Really, it's the only thing that makes sense.

The only other explanation is that I treat her with kindness and respect. Or because when I give her a gift she knows it comes from a sincere upwelling of emotion, not because it's National Buy-A-Gift Day (TM). Maybe it's due to the fact that I make a habit of not taking her for granted, and I tell her I appreciate her, rather than buying a card that says it for me once a year.

Yeah. I know. Too crazy. I'm sticking with the tumor theory myself.

*****

That's all I've got for now, folks. I hope each of you end up enjoying V-day in your own special way. If that means drinking a pint of rye whiskey and cursing the unfeeling sky, more power to you.

pat

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Friday, February 5, 2010
Elodin Enterprises: Making Tomorrow's Mistakes a Reality Today.

Over the years, I've learned a lot about women.

When I was younger, I was the guy all the girls came to for relationship advice. Don't ask me why. I'd never actually had a relationship. But I was thoughtful, and a good listener, and I didn't openly gawk at their breasts. (I did gawk, of course, I just wasn't rude about it.)

These three things may not seem like much, but from what I understand they rarely come together in a 16 year old boy. The result was that most girls found me to be trustworthy, fun to be around, and neuter as a Ken doll.

But I learned a lot by listening to their relationship problems. I learned what irritated them, what they really wanted in a relationship (or said they wanted, anyway), and the sort of jerky things guys were capable of.

Eventually I started to develop a list of things you should never do in a relationship. Rules of conduct that should never be broken. I continued building that list all through college.

Now I'm not talking about the obvious stuff here. Rules like, "Don't sleep with your girlfriend's sister." or "Don't jab her in the eye with a pointy stick." Shit like that is obvious.

My rules were more specific, but other people had paid for them in blood.

A few real examples:

* Never tell a woman she looks like her pet.

* Never compare a woman to a cow.

* Never compare a woman to any sort of cheese.

Maybe those last two don't happen so much outside of Wisconsin. But trust me, you really can't pull them off. Dairy products are fine. If you're careful, you can use creamy or milky. You can even, depending on the situation, get away with buttery. But cheese is right out. It can't be done in a good way.

Later on in life, as I started to date more, I began to add new rules based on my own experiences. Things like:

* Don't break up with a girl then send her roommate a love letter.

* Don't invite four different women to the same poetry reading. Especially if one of them is your ex-girlfriend, one is your current girlfriend, and one is the girl who kinda wants to be your girlfriend.

That last one might seem a little specific, and it is, I suppose. But if I can keep even one other person from making that mistake, I will be doing the world a very big favor.

Now some of you may scoff at my list of rules. Thinking them bizarre and overly specific. I don't really feel the need to defend myself or prove the efficacy of my system. Simply look at me, then look at my past girlfriends, all of whom have been lovely, intelligent, and sexy as hell. My results speak for themselves.

I'm not claiming to have it all figured out. Far from it. I'm still adding things to my list all the time.

For example, the other day I'm laying in bed with Sarah and little Oot. Because Oot is a happy little bundle of cute, Sarah experienced a moment of what I call Mom Bliss. I'm pretty sure this is an evolutionary thing. Specifically, it's a rush of endorphins designed to make moms adore their children, rather than devour them.

So we're all on the bed and Oot kinda squirms around, looks up at us, and gives us one of his trademarked triple-distilled cuteness grins. Then he makes a happy little shriek that sounds like he's trying to speak dolphin.

This presses Sarah's mom button, and the endorphins hit her brain like a pixie stick dissolved in a jam-jar full of heroin.

"Oh!" Sarah says, her eyes all dewy with Agape-style love. "This is so great! I'm in bed with my two favorite people!"

"Yeah," I say, pretty much agreeing with her. "It's kinda like a lame three-way."


New rule: Do not refer to quality time with mom and baby as "kinda like a lame three-way."

Here endeth the lesson.

pat

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Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Aftermath and an Introduction

Y'know, as much as I love doing the fundraiser, I'm glad it's over.

I started writing this blog mostly to relax, share interesting news, and amuse myself. I like to cuss in my posts and make the occasional odd joke about clown sex. But, strangely enough, I don't feel comfortable doing those things in the middle of a charity fundraiser.

Now that we're done being all charitable on the blog, I can get back to buisiness as usual here. Which is to say I can get back to not doing business and start screwing around instead.

Rest assured that in a week or so I'll post up some final details about the fundraiser, and some exciting news about a few things that happened right at the end. But right now we're dealing with the aftermath, assigning prizes, waiting for checks to clear, and preparing to wrap and package roughly a zillion books.

[Editorial note: Don't email me asking if you won anything. Seriously.]

As many of you might remember from last year's fundraiser, Sarah was my plucky assistant who worked tirelessly behind the scenes, helping me manage donations, take pictures of books, and package all the prizes.

This year, however, she's been absolutely no help at all. When I asked her why she was being such a slacker, she reminded me that we had a baby now, and that boobing him took priority over pretty much everything else.

What's that? Can I post a picture of him? You bet your ass I can....

(Click to Embiggen.)

Here Oot accompanied by one of his compatriots: Friendly Carrot. Not pictured here are Crazy Chicken, Subtle the Colorful Not-Mime, and Perverted Elephant.

Anyway, since Sarah is busy cooing and gurgling, I needed someone else to help me tend to the shop, as it were. That meant that until little Oot is old enough to copyedit, I needed an assistant.

So, without any further ado, I'd like to introduce you to Valerie:

(Say it with me now, "Hi Valerie!")

Valerie has been helping me take care of a lot of the epiphenomena that tend to clutter up my life. She does research, organizes stuff, takes care of mail, runs errands....

Generally speaking, she takes care of a bunch of stuff for me, leaving me more time to work on the book.

Over the last two months, that means Valerie has been doing a lot of the heavy lifting behind the scenes of Worldbuilders. She takes pictures of the donations and has managed all the personalized books and posters people bought to support the cause.

She's also been stockpiling the materials we'll need to package up this year's prizes.

(It's fun to play with big rolls of bubble wrap.)

Suffice to say that without her help, Worldbuilders would have been a chaotic mess, and I wouldn't have gotten a lick of work done on my revisions.

Anyway, she's been working really hard on all this stuff. So I figured it was high time I introduced her...

Say hello Valerie.

Hello.

No. Sorry. That won't work. You can't be purple, Sarah's purple. There will be mass confusion. You'll have to pick a different colour.

I like green. Can I be green?

That suits you, but it's a little too bright. Could you bring it down a bit?

How about this?

Perfect.

Everyone, meet Valerie. Valerie, this is everyone.

Say hello, everyone.

pat

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Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Coming Soon: The Adventures of The Princess and Mr. Whiffle.

Let me tell you a story.

Or rather, let me tell you a story about a story. (For those of you who know me, this shouldn't come as a surprise.)

Back in 2001, when I was toiling in the salt mines of grad school, my girlfriend Sarah and I had very different sleep schedules. I was up late, and she went to bed early.

One night, when she was going to bed, she jokingly asked me to tell her a story.

So I did, starting with with the most saccharine faerie-tale beginning I could think of: "Once upon a time," I said. "There was a Princess who lived in a Marzapan castle...."

The story was so cute and sweet that it began to irritate me even as I was telling it. And so I twisted it around until it was something entirely different. Something dark and strange. An older sort of Faerie tale.

When I finished, Sarah lay in bed, looking up at me with big eyes. "Now I can't sleep," she said.

So I told a second ending to the story. A sweet ending. A funny ending. A happy ending. An ending that made everything all better again. Sarah relaxed.

But that second ending irritated me again. It was too sweet and perfect.

So I gave the story a third ending. The perfect ending. An ending with teeth in it.

That night Sarah didn't get to sleep in any sort of timely fashion, but the next day she told some friends about it. I repeated the story for them, and one of them said, "I'd love to draw that."

Now a lot of times, that's where things would stop. But the friend who spoke up was none other than Nathan Taylor: he's the guy that drew the map for the US edition of the book. And he turned my puerile scrawlings for the Worldbuilder logo...



Into something cool and respectable looking:




I knew Nate was a great cartoonist and illustrator, as you can see for yourself over here or here.

But he completely blew me away with the illustrations he did for the Princess book. Here's a little taste:

(Awww...)

Just yesterday, Subterranean Press announced The Adventures of the Princess and Mr. Whiffle: the Thing Beneath the Bed on their website, making it available for pre-order.

So I wanted to mention it here on the blog as quickly as possible. Apparently it's been selling really quickly, and the limited leatherbound edition they're printing is already half sold-out. So if you want one of those, you should get over there and order it sooner rather than later.

Edit: Apparently everyone wanted a limited edition, so they sold out about 9:00 this morning. Sorry about that. I don't think anyone expected it to sell quite so quickly as that.

That said, it's only the limited edition that sold out. There are still regular hardcovers available.

Also, Bill over at Subterranean Press has offered to throw five ARC copies of the princess book in with his other donations to Worldbuilders. If you win one of those, you get to see the finished product months before it comes out.

  • Five ARC copies of The Adventures of the Princess and Mr. Whiffle: the Thing Beneath the Bed by Patrick Rothfuss and Nathan Taylor. Signed by the Author.





It's a picture book that's not for children. I can say with some certainty that it should never be read to children. But it's perfect for adults with a dark sense of humor and a love of old-school faerie tales.

Stay tuned. We still have a lot more to come. New blogs every day or so...

pat

As always, with thanks to: Subterranean Press.



(Huzzah for Subterranean Press! Double Huzzah!)

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Friday, September 25, 2009
What all the Fuss is about....

It's been a busy couple days over here.

Because:





There are many of you out there who deserve to hear this news by phone. Or by getting an e-mail. Or through a sarcastic gorrilagram of some sort. But I just can't manage it right now. As you can see by the picture, we're all pretty tired around here.

Everyone always says things like, "The labor was 8 hours long..." or "She was in labor for 15 hours." Or something like that. I don't know where to officially start counting the official labor, but she started having contractions Friday night, and we had the baby Tuesday morning. So no matter how you count it, it was long.

The end result is pretty good though. Little Oot is healthy and happy. He resembles his daddy in that he likes boobs and sleeping. Everything else will be sorted out later.

I won't trouble you with his measurements. 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.

Rest assured that he does posses mass and volume. He has all three dimensions and the requisite number of usual parts. He is a boy child. A Libra. Full of grace. An ox. Pinkish in color. Soft. And we have just received independent verification that he is cute as a button.

I've been stockpiling blogs over the last couple months, so you'll see some of those when I'm too busy writing and being domestic to write a new one. If anything, posts will probably be more frequent for a while.

If you have a piece of baby advice (and it seems like everyone I meet does) feel free to post it below. I will also accept cute baby stories. Everyone likes cute baby stories.

Sweet dreams everyone,

pat

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Friday, August 21, 2009
Living a life of the mind

So the other day I'm in the car with Sarah, and I say, "Last night I had a dream where Nathan Fillion was teaching my dad how to use the computer."

In order for you to appreciate this, I should mention that I don't usually remember my dreams. Sarah does. She has a vivid dream life. Crazy dreams. Every night.

So I'm thinking that Sarah will be impressed. Not only did I remember this dream, but you have to admit it's reasonably weird. Plus it has Nathan Fillion in it, which shows that my internal casting director is finally getting a decent budget to work with.

So I summarize my dream for Sarah. There isn't much more to it other than the fact that Nathan Fillion was teaching my Dad some of the finer points of computer programming. Except, perhaps, to mention that Fillion was quite gracious about the whole thing, and was willing to come out to our house in order to make things more convenient for my dad.

When I finish, I expect Sarah to say something appreciative. Something like, "Wow," or "Freaky," or "You've really got to get over Firefly."

But instead, without missing a beat, Sarah says, "I had a dream where I was going to marry Nathan Fillion, but I was really nervous because he had a horrible addiction to hobby farming. He was working really hard to overcome it, but I knew he was probably going to relapse pretty soon."

She shrugged. "Still, I was going to help him get through it. I knew I'd stay by his side no matter what. Very loyal of me. I think there were sheep involved."

And the winner is....





She's all mine, boys. Stay away...

pat


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Friday, June 12, 2009
Adventures abroad: Prologue

Before I start talking about my trip to Europe, I should mention that in many ways I am embarrassingly American. I'm monolingual. I'm fat. And in many ways, I'm terribly ignorant of the shape of the world. For example, until a couple years ago, I didn't know where Belgium was. True story.

This means that about 95% of my knowledge about Italy comes from two sources. 1) The movie Hudson Hawk. 2) The episode of Angel where they go to Rome to face down the Immortal.

This is important because Rome was going to be our first stop on our European walkabout.

Sarah was good about preparing herself for the trip. She did research. She got phrase books. She looked at maps. I was too busy getting the first draft of the book ready to do much preparation. I didn't study any languages. I didn't look at any tourist guides. I know that somewhere in Rome there's old stuff and a cool fountain. I know that somewhere in England there's Stonehenge. Somewhere in Amsterdam there are whores. Other than that, I'm flying blind….

And I do mean flying. Our flight goes from Central Wisconsin --> Detroit --> Amsterdam --> Rome. I've done a lot of flying in the last couple years, but this is different by an order of magnitude. Pretty much a whole waking day spent in the air.

Interesting fact: When you get pregnant, your body makes a bunch of extra blood. Pints and pints. Sarah told me this. She's a font of bizarre information about pregnancy. "Today Oot is growing a pancreas," she'll say. "Now he has gills like a fish."

I'm fairly certain that she makes a lot of it up. But still, I look attentive whenever she gives me these facts. Partly because I prefer things that are interesting to things that are true, but also because Sarah will cry at the drop of a hat under normal circumstances. Pregnancy has magnified this amusing quirk in a exponential way.

I actually took a video of her crying on the trip. Yes really. These things need to be recorded for the sake of science. She cries because she's upset, then I cheer her up and she cries because she's happy. Then she cries because she loves me. Then she cries because she's crying.

I probably shouldn't post that video without asking her, but here's a picture, just add a little verisimilitude.





Witness my mad comforting skills. She was weeping just minutes before this picture. After all these years with Sarah, I can stop someone's crying jag with two hugs and less than 50 words. You'll be tear-free in 60 seconds or your money back.

By the way, Oot is the baby's in-utero name. I figured we couldn't just call it "it" until it was born, so I gave him a temporary name. It's pronounced like "boot" without the "b." Just so we're clear.

Anyway, the point is that pregnant women have a lot of extra blood. So Sarah says. I can't remember her saying if it happens to all women, or just her. For all I know it might be something Sarah decided to do on her own.

Either way, apparently all this extra blood makes it a bad idea for her to sit still for long periods of time. There's a risk of blood clots. To prevent this, she has special stockings to wear and instructions to get up and walk around regularly.

Luckily, the guy next to me is willing to switch seats so Sarah can sit next to me. It's easy to forget if you watch too much news, but the vast majority of people in the world are kind and generous.

The down side is that Sarah's fear of blood clots combined with her favorite hobby, peeing, means that she wants to get up every three and a half minutes. This means that I, sitting in the isle seat, have to get up so often you'd think I was doing jumping jacks.

Why didn't I just give her the isle seat, you ask? Well... mostly because I like the isle seat. And jumping jacks, for that matter.

Eventually we made it to Amsterdam. And while Sarah and I were walking to the new gate so we could catch our connecting flight to Rome, I hear two people talking behind us. They're speaking Italian, and I hear one of them exclaim, "Mama Mia!" He says it twice in the time it takes us to get to the gate.

What really throws me off is the fact that he sounds like a bad stereotype. His accent sounds exactly like someone pretending to have an over-the-top Italian accent. If a really bad sitcom was going to have an embarrassingly unoriginal Italian character, that character would say "Mama mia!" in exactly this way.

Since this is, in many some ways, my first European experience, I can't help but wonder: is all Europe going to be like this? Are all the stereotypes true? Will a dark, handsome Italian man try to seduce Sarah? Will English food be horrifyingly bad? Are the French going to wear berets and mime at me?

These were my thoughts as our plane touched down in Rome….

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Wednesday, April 22, 2009
A Love Note to Germany (And Other Things)

Okay. There's been a flurry of excited messaging ever since I mentioned I'd be making a trip to Europe, and was willing to sign books while I'm over there. Details are over here on the previous blog.

Here are a few general comments and some answers to questions in response to the hubbub.


To my German Readers:

Oh my German readers. I do love you. I love you with a fierce love that is big as the sky. I know there are many of you. I know you would like me to stop in your country and sign books and do various authory things.

Do not think that I scorn you. Do not think that I neglect you. Do not think I fail to appreciate you, because I do. It is because of you that I can now legitimately call myself "International Bestselling Author" Patrick Rothfuss.

Before that, I was forced to call myself merely "Skilled Lover of Women" Patrick Rothfuss or "That Strange Guy Who Sits in the Back of the Coffeeshop All the Time" Patrick Rothfuss.

I appreciate this. You must believe me. I love you.

But as for making a stop in Germany this time around. I just don't think I'm going to be able to.

You see, Sarah, she says. "I would like to go to Rome."

And I think, "Rome? Have they done five hardcover printings of my book in Rome? No. That was Germany. Did my book get all manner of cool reviews in Rome? No. That also was Germany. What of the swank little bookmark? Surely that was Rome? No. It was not."

But you see, Sarah, she has this baby in her. This baby gives her remarkable powers.





I say to Sarah, "Where would you like to go on your trip to Europe?

Sarah says, "I would like to go to Rome."

And lo. We go to Rome.

Sarah says, "Also, I would like to see Paris."

And suddenly, it is so.

I'm not saying I'll never visit you, Germany. I will. I promise. It's just that when I do visit, I want everything to be perfect. I don't want to rush this part of our relationship. I don't want to go too fast. We need to be sure we're both ready. I want this to be special for both of us.

Perhaps I'll come to visit when book two is translated. Or maybe when your paperback comes out. Hopefully, if the German publishers are willing to help, we can do it up proper and I'll hit a bunch of places all over Germany, rather than just making a two-day stop in one city.

Be patient, I love you.

Sincerely,

pat


To my readers in Dublin:

As above. I was really hoping to make it there during this trip, but it just didn't work out. You'll see me before too long. I promise.


To my readers in other countries:

I would love to come to Sweden. To Ireland. To Spain. To Belgium. To Estonia. To Finland. I would love to come to Russia. To the Czech Republic. To Turkey. To Wales. To Portugal....

I'm sure you can see the problem.

If you can't see the problem, it's this: if I went to all of these countries, I wouldn't have time to do anything but drive around. I wouldn't see anything except through the window of a train. It's pure logistics. I can't do it all this trip. Someday. Hopefully.


To people eager to help schedule a signing:

1. If you want your local bookstore to host a signing, you need to tell *them* you're excited about it, not me. I'm already interested in doing a signing. So are you. We're on the same page. We've established a rapport.

But without the bookstore it's just not going to work out. It's like a three-way. It doesn't matter how much you and me want it. Without that third person, it just doesn't work out.

2. If you have a friend/relative/lover/former roommate that works in a bookstore, and you think they'd be excited to help schedule a signing. Contact *them* about it, see if they're really interested, then have them drop me a line if they are.

3. If you want to contact me about a potential signing, use the contact form. If you post it in the comments, I won't know how to get in contact with you. I will be similarly helpless if you shout the information out your window, or write it on your bathroom mirror. Sad but true.

4. If your town isn't on the list of places I'm stopping, I probably won't be able to come out and do a signing. The possible exception to this is Manchester, as it's on my way between London and Edinburgh. But even that depends on the interest of the local bookstore. (See #1)

That said, if you're actually one of the folks in charge of scheduling events in a bookstore or a library, and you'd REALLY like me to stop in, you can still drop me a line.


A few quick answers:

Q: "Will I be posting up the dates, times, and places of the eventual signings?"

A: Um... Yes? Rest assured. I'll be posting them here on the blog, and on the Tour Schedule Page.


Q: "How's the book going?"

A: Very well. Don't bug me about it. It harshes my vibe.


Q: "Does Sarah have any news about the baby?"

A: I just asked her. Sarah says: "It's freaking huge."


Q: "I live in a town in Europe! We have a bookstore! You should come here!"

A: That is not a question. Also, please see above points one through four inclusive.


Hugs and kisses,

pat

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Friday, April 17, 2009
European Tour - a call for bookstores.

First: My Thanks

Thanks to everyone who offered their congratulations.

(I'd be more properly verbose and flowery, but I have to be brief here. I'm using borrowed internet up here in the northwoods of Wisconsin, and this place is closing in 15 minutes.)

Second: The Tour

A while back, I promised Sarah a trip to Europe. Now, with the baby coming, I'm realizing I'm going to have to either make good on that promise, or wait for years until we no longer have a newborn. Because dragging a newborn around an international trip is not cool on many levels.

So we're going. Sarah deserves her trip for putting up with my endless bullshit.

Soon I will be turning over a solid draft of my book for my editor to read and... well... edit. This will take her a while, because the book is beastly long and she's good at her job.

While she's doing that, I have a window of opportunity. Rather than sit around, twiddle my thumbs, and fret over what my editor will say, I'm going to take Sarah to Europe before she gets too big with baby to do more than waddle to the fridge and make me rub her feet.

I'm looking forward to the trip. It will do me good to take a break from the book for a bit. If I don't get a few weeks away from it in between drafts, I lose perspective.

Also, it will be nice to have a bit of a walkabout on my own before finalizing Kvothe's own set of adventure as he goes out to make his fortune in the wide world.


Third: Sending out the Call.

For years now, I've had folks in the UK and the rest of Europe saying things like, "When are you going to be coming to [insert name of foreign country here]??!!?"

Well now's the time.

I'm more that willing to do signings at the cities I'm stopping at. But since this is happening on the spur of the moment, I don't have time to go through official bookstore channels, or perform the typical courting dances with foreign bookstores: first researching, then calling around, then playing phone tag, then trying to convince them that it would be worth their while to order a dozen of my books and set up a card table....

By the time I finished that, I'd already be back in the US.

So here's where you come in.

I'm posting my itinerary below. What cities I'll be and where. If you own a bookstore (or work in one) and you'd like me to come in and do a signing, lovely. Drop me a message off the contact form and we'll set something up.

If you don't work in a bookstore, but you know a cool one you think would be interested, ask them if they might be interested. Then, if they are, drop me a message. Or have them do it.

May 8-11 Rome

May 13-15 Amsterdam

May 17-19 Paris

May 21-25 London (And environs.)

May 27- 28 Edinburgh

May 30 Glasgow


Crap crap crap. The place is closing.

More later,

Fondly,

pat

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posted by Pat at 130 Comments



Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Some News...

Guess who's having a baby?


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posted by Pat at 219 Comments



Saturday, March 28, 2009
Being Thankful.

Quite frequently, something happens in my life and I think, "I should mention this on my blog."

This is one of those unpleasant truths that I'm reluctant to come to grips with.

I think part of the problem is the word "blog." I never felt this way when I would think similar thoughts about the humor column I wrote, or when I think, "I'm going to put that in the novel."

I know a lot of people who struggle to think of material to put on their blogs. I'm the other way around. If I went with my natural tendencies, I'd be writing little stories up here every day, maybe more. Slowly I would move all my writing energy into the blog, then it would start eating into other parts of my life too. Drawing time and energy away from vital activities like eating and playing videogames. Eventually they would find my shriveled husk in front of the computer.

Because I don't blog all the things I think of, sometimes interesting little stories get left by the wayside. This ensaddens me.

For example, months ago, I was driving around with Sarah. We were bickering, which is like arguing, but cleverer. We're really good at bickering. We could bicker for our country if they ever made it an Olympic sport.

The key to our successful bickering is the fact that we argue about stupid shit. We're also articulate, witty, and in love. Lastly, I am funny as hell, and Sarah is absolutely batshit crazy.

This leads to great bickerings. Honestly, I wish I had a lot of them on tape.

So we're driving around, bickering, and Sarah says, "Whenever you call me a rule utilitarian it makes my womb clench."

And I thought, "I've got to mention this on my blog."

Not the reason for the bickering, which I can't remember. Not any of the context, which really isn't that important. I just wanted to share that sentence because I knew if I didn't, you'd never run into it at any other point in your lives. Ever.

Sometimes the blogs that get put off are more substantive. I put those off because they'll take a lot of time and energy to get right.

And sometimes they aren't hard to write, they just get buried in the ephemera of daily life. Then when I rediscover them, I think, "Shit. I can't believe I haven't posted anything about that yet..."

This is an example of something thus belated.

Those of you who have been on the blog for a while probably remember Captain Joe. If not for his comments on the blog, then for his strong showing in the photo contest last year....





After last year's minor debacle with the Locus Award, I posted a blog wherein I generally lamented the unfairness of all God's creation.

In response to that blog. Captain Joe sent me this.





And a close-up of the wordage.





Later, I found out he actually made it. Found the wood, burned it and glazed it. Installed the clock....

In short, it was some serious above the call of duty coolness.

So I just wanted to take this opportunity to share this coolness, and thank him for it in a very belated way. If I had my way, I would have them write "Winner of Captain Joe's Most Kickass Novel of the Century Award," on the new version of the book when it comes out. But I'm pretty sure the marketing people have their hearts set on the whole NYT bestseller thing....

Later folks,

pat

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Wednesday, February 11, 2009
My Funny Valentine

One of the side effects of working on the book intensively is that everything else tends to fade from my awareness. I fall behind on e-mail, miss scheduled appointments, ignore Sarah, and tend to let the blog slide.

So yesterday, as I hauled firewood into the cabin, I thought, "Is it February? Isn't Valentines Day coming up?"

Then I thought, "Won't I be up here in Hayward, shackled to The Wise Man's Fear over Valentine's day?"

I realized it was true and went inside to call Sarah. I asked if she was cool with that.

She was cool with that.

I went back to carrying firewood and found that I couldn't remember when I'd last posted a blog, or what it had been about.

Then I thought, "I'm pretty sure I've written a Valentine's day column at some point in the past. If I could find it, that would save me some time."

So, after I was done schlepping in the wood. I dug through my files and found I was correct. I had written a Valentine's Day column. In fact, I had written several of them over the years.

Then I found this one. A column I had written several years ago and forgotten about until now.

This, my friends, is what we writers refer to as serendipity.

[Editor's note. For a few of the references in this column to make sense, you have to understand that by the time I did this column, I had been writing it in the local paper for over seven years and actually had a sponsor who underwrote the column. This provided me some much-needed ad revenue, and let me offer prizes to people who wrote in letters. Usually a gift certificate from a local coffeeshop.]

[Editor's note - This isn't really an editor, by the way. It's just me. But "Pat's note" doesn't sound nearly as official.]


Dear Pat,

A friend gave me a copy of your College Survival Guide Collection for Christmas and I spent all break reading it. It was awesome getting to read all the columns from back before I came to School here.

After reading those old columns, I realized your newer columns are a little... angry. Compared to those earlier ones. They're still funny, but they're also kinda grim.

I was just hoping we could occasionally see the kinder, gentler Pat. The Pat that gave advice to the girl with all the scars back when I was a freshman, or wrote the Christmas column in your book. Focus on the positive.

Kaitlin

*****

Pat,

My girlfriend keeps talking about you. All the time. She's all like, "Pat Rothfuss is the funniest guy! OMG! I can't believe the things he says!" Honestly, I'm pretty sick of it.

It's gotten worse since you put up that Myspace page. She read more of your stuff and found some pictures of you and thinks you're "the cutest." So now I'm officially pissed. I'm her boyfriend, I'M supposed to be CUTEST!

So I was thinking I only have two ways to solve this problem.

You could go out on a date with my girlfriend. It would be like a Valentine's day present to her. AND I'm guessing after she meets you she'll realize you're not all that.

We could trade girlfriends. Mine is obsessed. And I'm guessing yours is probably pretty sick of you.

Sad About My Inappropriately Excited Girlfriend

Well SAMIEL, flattered as I am by your proposal, I find myself skeptical. Lately, people have been writing in fake problems just to get free coffee from the Mission. So I suspect that this letter is pure bullshit. Well, maybe not *pure* bullshit, but at least three-nines fine.

First off, there are no photos of me up at myspace, only illustrations. Secondly, nobody says: "OMG!" And lastly, I have a hard time believing anyone would offer their girlfriend a date with someone else as a V-day present.

I expect it's much more likely that this is a blatant attempt to get close to my girlfriend.

While my cynical nature inclines me toward the first possibility, I'm going to take Kaitlyn's politely-phrased suggestion and focus on the positive in this column. I'm going to assume that you're smitten with my ladyfriend, and, with V-Day coming up, you decided to make your move.

No offense to your girlfriend SAM. She's obviously a woman of impeccable taste. But she can't hold a candle to my girlfriend.

My girlfriend's name is Sarah. She is, to put it plainly, the best of all possible girlfriends.

Some of you might remember the V-day column from a couple years back when I bitched about how girls get to cash in on Valentine's day, while guys got screwed in the deal? Well, last Valentine's day, Sarah bought me flowers and candy, took me out to dinner, and gave me a backrub. How's that for cool?

But that's only the tip of the iceberg. She's hella smart, a great writer, and better at math than me. She does community service, keeps up on current events, and makes awesome banana bread. Her hair smells really, really, good.

Sarah is also hot. Beyond hot. I'm not even kidding here. You know when you see a geeky guy walking around an absolute bombshell and you think, "The hell? How did he end up with her? She's a thousand times hotter than him!" Well Sarah and I are like that, with the main difference that I'm pretty damn sexy too.

It's like a story problem: if Sarah is a thousand times sexier than Pat, and Pat is fifty times sexier than you... Do the math: (Damn sexy x 1000 + boobs = Sarah.)





Shes so sexy that Homeland Security is worried about her falling into the hands of the terrorists. Fema has passed a special set of laws requiring her to always wear at least three layers of clothing whenever she's in public. If she wears only one layer, she causes car wrecks. If she wears a tank top, men without protective eyewear have grand-mal seizures and passing women become suddenly bi-curious.

When she gets naked, the sexiness she throws off is like the radiation from a nuclear bomb. If we hadn't lined the walls of her bedroom and bathroom with three inches of lead, no man in Stevens Point could wear tight fitting pants, and every woman in Central Wisconsin would be gay.

I'm running low on space here, so I can't go into details about the sex. So let me just say this: Damn.

Perhaps most importantly, Sarah is sweet. I have a tendency, as Kaitlyn pointed out, to get a little grim. I tend to waver back and forth between a raging inferno of furious anger, and a chilly pillar of bitter cynicism. But being around Sarah is like a drink of cool water. When she's nearby, you realize that the world is a pretty nice place after all. Sometimes her influence is all that keeps me from turning into a cussed, crotchety old bastard.





Love ya sweetie, happy Valentine's Day.

*****

Awww.... Isn't that sweet?

If you'd like to leave a comment for Sarah telling her how lovely she is, feel free.

That said, don't get too fresh. She is, after all, My Girl.

Unless you are lady-types, of course. Then you can get as fresh as you want. Be my guest.


Later all,

pat

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Monday, December 22, 2008
Reaping the Whirlwind

First, I'd like everyone to take a moment and appreciate the clever title of this post. I'm unreasonably proud of it.

We good? Okay.

After a long week, Sarah and I have finally managed to tie up about 99% of the loose ends on the fundraiser. We've drawn numbers, sorted prizes, sent e-mails, and packaged nearly everything up.

And when I saw "we," I mean "Sarah." I did a lot of the sifting, number juggling, and e-mailing, but Sarah was the package queen.





Awww.... She loves those packages. Those hundreds and hundreds of packages.

Also, as you can see in the lower lefthand corner, the holy light these prizes exude can shine through cardboard, tape, and two layers of bubble wrap. It's powerful stuff.

I'd also like to note that these packages do not include the Subterranean Press books. Because not only was Subterranean Press cool enough to donate a great pile of stuff, they were nice enough to handle all the shipping for those books too. Which is why I am filled with love for them.

And speaking of love....





Here Sarah is modeling the catgirl hat many of you have seen before. I wanted to prove that I actually did buy it for her, and wasn't secretly keeping it for myself.

Simply said, the fundraiser would have been impossible without Sarah. She spent dozens of hours bundling up books, running errands, and generally getting everything done. Hell, the trip to the post office alone took two full hours, and that was with a friend with a van helping.

Everyone say, "Thank you Sarah."

And now, answers to some final questions.

  • Things went really crazy right at the end of the fundraiser. What happened?
Things did go a little crazy. On December 9th, I mentioned on the blog that I thought we had a decent chance of breaking $40,000. Then, we raised over $16,000 in the next two days, tearing past $50,000 and leaving me worried that I was going to have to take out a loan so I could cover my half.

A big piece of this was brought about by folks spreading the word on their blogs. Most notably, Neil Gaiman.

I'd heard through the grapevine that Gaiman was a bit of a Heifer supporter, so I sent him a little e-mail, asking if he'd be interested in mentioning it on his blog.

I should have realized that asking for something like this would be like sticking my tongue into.... well... into anything, really. In my experience, whenever you stick your tongue into something, the outcome is going to be either very exciting, very dangerous, or both.

This was one of those "both" situations. After his blog, Gaiman's readers flooded over to participate in the festivities. Felicia Day mentioned it on her blog too. Plus, I know a lot of folks were finishing their own personal fundraisers and/or waiting until the very end to make their donations. Hence the crazy.

Rest assured, everyone who got their donations in by the 11th was entered into the lottery.

And yes, I'm all twitterpated that Gaiman referred to me as a "good author." Though I hope at least some of that was referring to my storytelling as opposed to my ethics.

  • The donations hit nearly $55,000. How much are you matching?
The other day I asked Sarah, "What do you want for Christmas?"

"Nothing you can afford to get me," she said huffily.

And we laugh. This has become the running joke in our house.

I've decided to match all the donations. I could have stopped at forty thousand, but I said I'd keep matching until the 11th, and I like to keep my promises.

  • What was the final total?

If you've read the blog that started it all, you know I offered two options to people who wanted to donate. There was the Sure Thing option, and the Lottery option.

A surprising number of people chose the Sure Thing, which meant they mailed me a check and I mailed them something back, usually a book or a map signed however they wanted it.




(Click to Embiggen)

A *lot* of people chose this option. So many that I ran out of first edition books. The total amount raised from the Sure Thing option was over six thousand dollars.

That, plus my matching donation from the lottery, minus the cost of postage and packaging materials, brings us to $58,493.14





I'm showing you the check not as proof that I'm mailing it, but because it took me ten friggin minutes to write this thing out. I screwed up five checks before I managed to get it right. I misspelled "ninty," wrote the wrong amount, wrote the wrong year, and failed more than once to get the total to fit on the line.

I keep pretending that I'm a grown-up, but I'm not.

Anyway, this money, plus the donations that were made directly to the Heifer page, makes a grand total of $113,466.28.

I don't have words enough to express how happy this makes me. I firmly believe that deep down, people are fundamentally good. But it's nice to have some data that backs that sentiment up every once in a while.

I'd like to thank all the authors who donated books, all the people who mentioned the fundraiser on their blogs, and all the people who donated money to the cause. Yay us.

  • Are you planning on doing this again next year?
Yes. But I'm planning on doing some things differently.

More stuff. A lot of people wanted to contribute books or other goodies to this year's auction, but they didn't hear about the fundraiser until it was nearly finished. I've already got stuff piling up for next year's fundraiser.

Streamlined lottery. Next year, when you make your donation you'll be able to mark what prizes you're interested in. That way if you win something, it will be something you're sure to like.

Auctions. Some prizes are really cool, but only to a very select group of people. So next year we're going to auction those items off separately. These might be things like manuscripts. Or they might be services, like an author agreeing to insert your name into an upcoming book, a lawyer offering legal consultation, or feedback on a manuscript from a literary agent.

  • I want to be a part of next year's fundraiser. How can I help?
Donate. Want to chip in a signed book or two? Lovely. Have a cool collectible or unique skill you think would be a worthwhile addition? Wonderful. I'm already collecting prizes for next year. Send them along.

Or maybe you'd like to be an even bigger part of the fundraiser? I'm going to be looking for official sponsors to help me match donations for next year. I'd like to be able to do all of it on my own again, but I just can't afford it.

If you'd like to help out, drop me a line on my contact form or send an e-mail to Paperback.contest (squiggly at thinger) gmail.com.

Spread the word. Not everyone has signed books to donate or money to throw around. But you can help a lot by letting people know about the fundraiser. A lot of the prizes I received came from authors who contacted me, saying, "A fan sent me an e-mail about your fundraiser and I'd love to be a part of it." So if you know someone that might be interested in helping, donating a prize, or potentially being a sponsor, talk to them about it. It's a big help.

Help me come up with a name.
We *really* need a name, folks. We can't keep calling it "The Heifer Fundraiser." It lacks panache. Names are important things, you know. And they can tell you a lot about a fundraiser.

Right now, the best I've been able to come up with is "Worldbuilders." But we need something catchier than that. I know that a lot of you are word-clever, as shown by your constant, witty definitions of the word verification giberish. Funnel the churning magma of your creativity toward this problem and I'm sure we can come up with something good.

In fact, let's try to get the ball rolling in the comments below. Serious suggestions only please. Believe me, I've come up with enough sarcastic-sounding ones on my own.... (Geeks for Goats being the least lame of these.)


Thanks again everyone,

pat

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Tuesday, November 25, 2008
New Prize - Original Manuscript for Upcomming Superman/Batman Novel

Oh merciful Buddha. I am so sick....

Which is a real shame because we have several pieces of cool news today. I wish I wasn't all muzzy so I could gush appropriately about them.

The first is that Kevin J. Anderson has donated something huge to the Heifer Fundraiser.





Kevin has graciously donated a signed manuscript copy of his upcoming book Batman/Superman: Enemies and Allies. This is really big folks. Not only do you get a sneak peek of the book that won't be hitting the shelves until May 2009, but this story details the official first meeting between Superman and Batman. How cool is that?

Looking at this makes me wish there was some ethical way for me to enter my own contest with the hope of winning.

But that wouldn't be fair. As it is, I'll have to settle for caressing it in a loving manner. It is my firm belief that prolonged contact with the manuscript will heal me of whatever terrible illness has struck me down....

If you want the specifics about how you can win this manuscript, what the other prizes are, or what the whole fundraiser is about, CLICK HERE.


Today also marks the halfway point of the fundraiser. We've only been going for two weeks, and our team has already raised over 20,000 dollars with books and donations still rolling in.

Which brings us to the third piece of news. I'm raising the bar on the donation thermometer again. We'll take it all the way up to $30,000 so everyone visiting MY PAGE is clear on the fact that I'm still matching donations.

That said, I might have to stop after 30,000 dollars. I'm not saying I will, but I might. I need to take a hard look at my finances and make sure I'm not being stupid about this. One of the common misconceptions about being a writer is that once your book comes out, you're rich. But as Tobias Bucknell showed in the survey he took that's just not true.

The truth is, I've been fortunate this last year. I've sold the foreign rights to the book in a lot of countries, and those advances have allowed me to quit my day job. But I don't live in a house made of solid money. I've been loving this fundraiser, it's the most fun I've had in a year. But the only reason I'm able to do this fundraiser is because I still pretty much live like a student. I just wanted to give y'all fair warning that I might need to put on the breaks before too long.

Gech. I hate posting up a blog when I have a fever. I never know when I'm making sense. I need to bring Sarah over and read this to make sure I'm not just frothing like a wild dog.

Say hello to everyone, Sarah.

Hello, everyone.

I made you purple. Is that okay?

Yes. It's very cute and girly.

And you are cute and girly.

Aside from being my clever, beautiful girlfriend, Sarah is doing a lot of the behind-the-scenes work for the fundraiser, helping me package things and post up blogs. That, in turn lets me continue to get work done on The Wise Man's Fear.

Am I making sense on the blog so far, Sarah?

Yep. You're doing great. Just a bit more and you can go to bed.

Can you say something cool about Kevin's manuscript? I haven't done a good enough job of being gushy about it.

This book makes me tingle a little. It's got a big-mojo aura surrounding it. I can't wait to dig into the story when it comes out. There's bound to be some great, unexplored tension between these two iconic superheros and a bunch of juicy, rock 'em sock 'em, gladiator-style action. Whoever wins this is so freakin' lucky.

By unexplored tension, are you implying that Superman and Batman might be a little, you know, hot for each other?

No.

Are you sure? Two hot young guys? Maybe in college? Curious about...things? Willing to experiment?

Well, they are both quite well-proportioned. You've just given me a lot to think about later while you're sleeping.

Who do you like better, Superman or Batman?

Superman. I'd rather be him. Plus, he's an alien.

I bet Batman is a better kisser than Superman. At least, I think I'd rather kiss Batman. Kissing Superman would be... too weird.

You might get crushed by his super lips.

Wow. Yeah. I didn't even think of that.

What *is* your fever at right now, Honey?


102 last time I checked. When it hits 104 I'm gonna sell.

Can you make me some soup and tuck me into bed?

Yeah, Sweetie. I'll take care of everything.



Later all,

pat

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Friday, October 10, 2008
Recovering from Vancouver

I'm back from V-Con. It was a lot of fun....

I have a few stories to tell about the convention.... but I'll do it later.

While I was up in Canada, I must have somehow offended one of their primitive gods. I know this because I was smote down with a terrible illness.

My illness must have come from some sort of angry god, because within the space of twenty-four hours I went from being a gregarious, energetic scamp, chatting with new friends and mugging for the camera....




(By the way, isn't this my best hair ever?)


...to a shivering, wretched mass who could do nothing but huddle in a nest of blankets, moaning in pain...

Though honestly, the timeline was even tighter than that.

7:00 - I give the keynote speech at V-Con's closing ceremonies. I feel fine, though slightly nervous. I get a few laughs, and nobody throws a brick at me, so I count it as a success.

7:30 - Ceremony ends, and I spend a lovely hour or so chatting with V-Con's lovely Toastmaster and one of the other Guests of Honor: Jaymie Matthews.

8:30 - I go to the dead dog party to mingle, but my heart's not really in it. I'm oddly tired, and Sarah and I leave after about 30 minutes.

9:00 - Sarah and I go to dinner at a nearby pub.

9:15 - Sarah says, "Are you alright? You've got dark circles under your eyes...."

"Were they there when I was giving my Keynote?" I ask.

"No," she says. "They just showed up."

9:30 - I feel really cold, and really tired.

9:45 - We go back to our hotel room, where Sarah tucks me into the aforementioned nest of blankets. I commence being wretched and pitiful.

The fever went away, but since then it feels like my head has been packed with hot cotton and broken glass. It's only through a ridiculous application of painkiller that I functioned well enough to get home to the states.

I'm partially recovered now. But not nearly enough to do any sort of worthwhile post about the con, or to continue my discussion of fanmail. Those will be forthcoming.

Instead, here's a picture of Sarah doing a handstand in the Vancouver airport.





Why is she doing a handstand? Shit. I have no idea. After all these years, I've discovered that it's better not to ask.


pat

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Thursday, August 14, 2008
Titillation
So today I had a phone conversation with some people. It was a conversation with cool implications for the future. It's a long way from anything certain, and I can't tell you what it was about, but I can tell you my girlfriend's reaction....

When I finished with said conversation, I called Sarah and told her about it.

Then she said, "That's so exciting that I'm going to puke."

As you can see, I'm not the only wordsmith in our relationship.

In lieu of cool news. (That's a fun sentence, by the way. You should say it out loud. Do it.)

Here's a photo someone sent me of the Italian version of the book, on its home turf. Note the awesome castle in the background.




Later all,

pat (From a crappy hotel computer in Indianapolis.)

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Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Spring in Wisconsin


Today is April 29th. It is two days away from Beltane.

Today I made a snowman in my yard.






A careful observer will note that Sarah's lips are wet, and her cheeks are pudged out. That's because she was eating a carrot. (You can see what remains in her hand.)

I told her that wasn't a cool thing to do. Eating a carrot right in front of the snowman you're making is rude, and just a little macabre. But, as always, she didn't listen to me.....

Have a good day everyone.

pat


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Thursday, November 8, 2007
Various and sundry items

It seems like I have a half-hundred little things I want to write about, but not enough time to do any of them justice.

So today you get a hodgepodge of miscellany. A hodgelany. If my regular blogs are nutritiously balanced meals, served with an eye for presentation... well... then this blog is going to be more like you coming over to my house and eating fish sticks directly off the cookie sheet while sitting on my couch. Tasty, but strictly no-frills.


Item 1) What I dressed up for this Halloween.

Gay Dumbledore.

If you hadn't already heard the news, crawl out from under your rock and look HERE.






"Ah yes," Dumbledore thought to himself. "That young Potter is a lovely bit of crumpet if I've ever seen one. I wonder if he'd fall for the old 'pull something out of my hat' routine...."





"Five points for Gryffindor!"


My accomplice in the photos is none other than my lovely ladyfriend, Sarah. It really wouldn't have been a funny costume if I hadn't been able to chase her around the party all night, groping shamelessly by the punchbowl and occasionally making suggestions that would make a fanfic author blush.


Item 2) Name of the Wind just made Publisher's Weekly's list of the top 150 books of the year. There were only seven books in the Sci-fi/Fantasy category, so I'm pretty flattered by that.

Item 3) Name of the Wind was also named one of the top ten Fantasy/Sci-fi books of the year by Amazon.

Item 4) Name of the Wind is the only fantasy novel to make it onto both of those lists.

Item 4-a (corollary) I rock the house. And, by virtue of association, so do you.


Lastly, because the blog has been getting swamped with spam advertising comments, you now have to do one of those mildly irritating security countermeasures in order to leave a comment. Please don't let this dissuade you from making your usual witticisms. I crave them, and if they are not forthcoming, I may curl into a wretched emo ball and weep piteously.

Later,

pat

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Saturday, October 27, 2007
Tonight, Tonight...


So I'm back from New York. Over the last few days I've been catching up on my life and recovering from the cold I always seem to get whenever I fly somewhere.

This was only my second trip to the NYC. Here are the highlights and my impressions.

New York taxis have absolutely insane drivers. That said, judging by the fact that I've never seen a single accident there, I'm going to say that they're also very capable, safe drivers as well. My current strategy is to treat every taxi trip like a tiny roller coaster ride. Sometimes I even scream and throw my hands in the air. It's fun.

I like the pigeons in New York. They're all sorts of cool colors. Nobody else in New York likes the pigeons.

People in New York are very proud of Central Park. But the truth is if you walk for five minutes in any direction from my house here in Wisconsin, you'll find just as much nature with fewer crowds. As an added bonus, you can climb the trees around here without anyone bitching at you.

New York has so many cool museums that I can't even begin to get into it.

The Quill Award ceremony was pretty cool. I'm looking forward to seeing myself on TV, if for no other reason than to see what the hell I said during my acceptance speech.

But there are a few problems. I know the awards are on tonight. I know they're on NBC (or MSNBC). But other than that, I have no idea when it's playing. I can't find any listings for it.

Even if I could. I don't have cable here in the house. So chances are I couldn't watch it.

So my only hope is that some tech savvy person manages to pirate the thing and put it up on Youtube or something. Or that one of my friends manages to tape it for me.

For now, I'll leave you with the only Quill picture I've managed to find so far:







Yech. I am many things, but I am not terribly photogenic.

I'm in the middle. On the right is Steven Schirripa, of Sopranos fame. Believe it or not, that pretty girl is with me. Her name is Sarah, and just for the record, in the picture I'm threatening to kick this goomba's ass if he tries to make a move on her. Let me assure you, it was incredibly manly of me. My voice didn't hardly quaver at all.

That's all for now folks. Have a good Halloween.

pat

P.S. Extra points to anyone who can guess what I'm dressing up as tonight....


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