I’ve got two pieces of mail, both of which should be answered sooner rather than later. So today we’re going to have a twofer.
Let’s do it.
Pat,
I missed your signing in Waukesha! I had a UFO come up at the last minute and wasn’t able to make it. (UFO = Unavoidable Family Obligation.)
My major problem is that I wanted to buy a signed book as a present for my boyfriend, who got me hooked on your book about a year ago. But now, when I’m catching up on your blog, I see that you had copies of the princess book there, too! I’m heartbroken!
Was it cool? I bet it was cool…
The point of my e-mail is to ask you if you’ll please come back to Milwaukee soon? Pretty Please?
Nat
It’s too bad you missed it, Nat. It was pretty cool. Everyone that showed up got an early copy of The Wise Man’s Fear and a backrub. Batman showed up too. He brought oatmeal raisin cookies and taught us all how to shatter a man’s hip using a broken-0ff chair leg.
So yeah, as far as my readings go, it was pretty much average.
I’m sorry you weren’t able to make it, but I don’t know soon I’ll be down in that area again. Logistically, it makes better sense for me to spread around my readings a bit, as it gives people in different areas a chance to attend.
I’ll probably do something down in Chicago before too long. Sarah wants to take Oot to the aquarium there, so I might as well do a little reading and signing while I’m in the area. (If anyone has a favorite bookstore in Chicago where they think I should stop, they can mention that in the comments below.)
Anyway, my point is I probably won’t be doing another reading in Milwaukee for months. But if you keep an eye on the blog and tour schedule page, you should be able to catch me when I’m somewhere nearby.
And if you still want a signed book for your boyfriend, you might want to check out Martha Merrell’s Bookstore. They brought in books for my signing down in Waukesha. And before I left, I signed a bunch of their stock. So they should have a bunch of my signed books still in the store.
They even have a few signed copies of the princess book, if you think your boyfriend would like one of those. It’s probably the only store in the country with those on the shelf right now.
Letter #2
Master Rothfuss,
I’ve been bad. I haven’t been keeping up on your blog, and consequently, I only today found out about your t-shirt design contest.
I desperately want to enter a design or two. But your blog says that the cutoff for entries is… today.
Can you please stretch out the deadline a bit for us sad, sorry losers that don’t check your blog as frequently now that school is out?
I promise it will be worth your while. I’m a graphic design major. I seriously do art and stuff.
In desperate minionhood,
Rich
(For those of you who are hopelessly out of the loop, here’s the blog where I talk about having a t-shirt design contest.)
This is what happens when you’re a lackluster minion, Rich. It’s because of people like you that the death star gets blown up.
Hmmm… I’m guessing that’s not the best example.
My point is that checking the blog should be an essential part of your life by now. You should treat my blog like your second job. You should revel in my blog with the same obsessive-compulsive fervor Sarah uses when I bring a bag of Cheetos into the house.
Seriously. She’s a freak for Cheetos. It’s like watching a very dainty shark.
Anyway, as I am a benevolent overlord, I realize my original two-week deadline was a little tight for some people. I’ve had several letters like this in the last few days, asking for a little extra time to complete designs.
So here’s the deal: I’ll extend the deadline for t-shirt submissions until the end of the month.
Two things to consider:
1. You’ve got your work cut out for you. We’ve had more than 100 designs submitted in the last week, and honestly, I’ve been really impressed. People came up with things I never would have thought of….
That means if you’re coming in under the wire, you better bring your A-game.
2. From this point on, we’ll only accept actual picture-type designs. We’ve got plenty of text descriptions right now. Over this next week, I’ll be turning over the best of these to our team of talented artists. They’ll work their magic, and early next month we’ll put the cream of the crop up here on the blog for people to ogle and vote upon.
Later everybody,
pat
A surfeit of surreality
So the other day I make a trip to the university surplus store. That’s the place where the University sells things that it doesn’t need anymore.
(Whoops. That should be university. No capital letter. It’s hard to break certain typing habits after working on the book.)
I love the surplus store. I’ve bought couches there. Chalkboards. Computers. The chair I’m sitting on right now came from the surplus store. Five bucks. It’s cushy and everything.
But on this particular day, I wander over because I hear the chemistry department has surplussed some of its glassware. Back before I fell under the dark sway of the liberal arts, I was studying to be a chemical engineer. I quit early on, before I could get sick of it. And as a result, I still have a real fondness for chemistry equipment. Especially the glassware.
So I head over and look at what they have. After poking around in a dozen boxes, I ask them what they’d take for the whole lot of it. We negotiate for a while, and eventually settle on a hundred fifty bucks for everything. I get them to throw in an old hand-crank centrifuge as well. Because if you’re going to have a lab in your basement, why wouldn’t you want a hand-crank centrifuge?
It was a pretty frivolous purchase, I suppose. But I just love the stuff. Not even because it’s useful. Hell, some of the stuff I don’t even know what it’s called, let alone how to use it.
Other pieces are easier to identify.
This, for example, is obviously a bong:
This, on the other hand, is a much cooler, more complicated bong:
Okay, fine. I’m not sure what either one of those things is for. But look at the lower one. Witness its awesome. How could anyone not want something like that in their house?
After I bought the glassware I realized Sarah was off running errands. So my intrepid assistant Valerie offered to come pick me up and help me move the boxes.
While I was waiting for her, I wandered over to Starbucks for coffee. I know, I’m not proud of it. But I was on foot with half an hour to kill, and daddy needs his medicine.
By the way, we’re getting to the point of the story now. Did I mention that there was a point to this story? There is.
So I’m at Starbucks, trying to overcome the guilt of not supporting my locally owned, independent coffee shop. They don’t have blueberry syrup, either, which I figure is fair punishment for my betrayal.
Then the woman behind the counter says, “I really liked your book.”
I’m always surprised when someone recognizes me. It doesn’t happen that often, but it’s always flattering. We talk about the book for a minute, and then I head out the door.
On the way back to the surplus store, I walk past a previously out-of-business store someone’s remodeling. I’ve heard a rumor that someone’s starting up a new restaurant in town called “Curry in a Hurry.” Needless to say, I’m delighted. Stevens Point is a nice place to live, but there’s no Indian food around these parts, and that makes me sad.
So I go over and ask the guy that’s painting a few questions. He confirms it is actually going to be the new curry place. I tell him that’s awesome. We smile.
Then, as I turn to leave, he says. “I’m a big fan.”
And this time it strikes me as a little weird. Two stranger in less than three minutes. And they haven’t just read my book, but they obviously know who I am and what I look like.
Still, I shrug it off. This is my hometown after all. And there have been more than a few local-boy-does-good stories in the paper. And I do have a bit of a distinctive look to me…
Given all that, I decide it’s just a coincidence, and that helps me keep my cool together.
But then, less than an hour later when I’m picking up an air conditioner at Menards, the guy in the loading bay smiles and says, “How are the books doing?”
And then it’s just all different colors of bizarre. Flattering? Sure. Cool? Yeah. But mostly it was just weird. None of them said, “Are you that author guy?” They all just knew who I was. I’m not used to that. How can anyone ever be used to that?
Everything said, it made for a very surreal afternoon.
Later space cowboys,
pat