Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Two raging emotions... one awesome book

I was back-reading some Patrick Rothfuss’s blogs.  (I do that when I first discover I blog I really like and the author doesn’t post fast enough. I read all the old material… I can’t be the only one can I?) Anyways….. he was doing a segment on fanmail and one had said that they had made note of what page they were on in his book because they knew they would be stopping by a bookstore and they would read more there.  My first thought was “What the fuck!?!?! You don’t take your book with you everywhere?  What kind of human being are you?”

Seriously though.  I will not carry a purse that will not fit all my junk and a book.  I must have a book with me no matter what.  Taking the bus = reading time.  Long car trips = reading time.  Waiting to get seated at a restaurant = reading time.  Waiting for a movie to start = reading time.  Anytime were there is waiting involved = reading time. 

Anytime were I am frustrated and people suck, I read.  It is soothing and calms me down. I am away from here (wherever here might be) and I am someplace else were things are not my problems but someone else’s and I have a good feeling that somehow it will all work out.  And it kind of reassures me about life in general too.  That somehow it will all work out. Some may have to go through devastating tragedies along the way, but the larger picture painted of the whole world…well… it may just very well work itself out for the best. 

So yah, returning to the original point.  Pat!! I totally kick that fans ass… I took your book everywhere with me while I was reading it.  It visited my work, the bus, my drama practice.  It slept on my bedside table and on my couch.  It hung out in my purse, and on my desk at work. It posed for pictures with my dog.  Seriously.  Were I went your book went.  It may have even visited the John (do not smell the pages for bathroom odors.. yah I just got that image in your head). 

Now some of you might be backpedaling at this point going “Wait a minute.  Bitch says she takes her books everywhere.  Pat don’t buy into her sincerity.  She brings every book everywhere.  They all get the same treatment.  Even the crappy ones.”  And heyo you may very well be right.  But the crappy ones linger forever and get left behind places, like at home while I take a new shinny with me on the road.

And Pat… good ones like yours.  They get on my to buy list.  And really really good ones like yours…. Well I bought two copies.  Because I could only find the two different covers for sale.  The new one and the man chest one.  Both in hardcover.  That is love.  I didn’t go searching for it used to save a buck. I didn’t buy it in soft cover either. I bought the big honking hardcover’s twice.  I can only read one book at a time but now I have two different copies with two different covers.

 Man.. I love your work!! I am so freaking jealous I want to do something… I can’t think of anything insanely creative that represents my jealous rage right now, so just kind of fill in the blank on that one.  Your story was awesome.  The way you told you story was even more awesome.  It takes story telling to a whole new high.  And now I am like… “Well can’t write that type of book now.”  If I do it will totally be a nock off.  That style is so original and anyone else trying to pull of that format will be a total poser. 

You raised the bar for high fantasy.  I thought it was high before with George RR Martin and Robin Hobb, but no you had to go and push it even higher.  And I am left standing here with my head back and mouth agape.  I feel like such a country hick wannabe going to the big times and sticking out like a soar thumb.  I just am not ever going to make it to that level no matter what I wear.  But to be fair, it’s all about how you talk when you’re writing.  And I just sound ignant sometimes.

Honestly every time I sit down to write, I feel like a two year old telling their first story.  I have this awesome vision in my head, but the words, they slip through my fingers.  And my sentences are these small little kindergarten like sentences.  “The bunny hoped” kind of deal.  And my dialogue doesn’t sound real.  And then I fall back on clichés.  And then I think I can’t say “They looked like a dear in the headlights.”  I am trying to write fantasy for goodness sakes.  Where the hell am I going to get me some headlights in this badass medieval like world. 

So my dearest Pat, I am left in a jealous fit of rage at your awesomeness and humbled by your talent to weave a tight tale.  Two very conflicting emotions.  One awesome book. Now get back to work on book’s two and three so I can trek them around with me on my own adventures.    

 

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