First, a few excerpts from the many, many messages I’ve received recently.
- “Do you need another Beta Reader? I’d be happy to help….”
- “I read on one of your latest blogs something about beta readers. I had no clue there was such a thing, but now I know about it I want to be one.”
- “I think beta-reading sounds like the best job in the world–next to testing the softness of puppy-tummy-fur with one’s face all day.”
People have given many credentials and uttered many a plaintive plea. There have even been blatant attempts at bribery. People have offered me cash, computers, and promises of their undying love. About the only thing people didn’t offer is livestock and sexually explicit pictures of themselves.
I should have seen it coming, but honestly, I didn’t.
I know a lot of people would love to help me out by giving a beta read…
Wait, that’s not entirely true, is it?
What I meant to say is that a lot of people would love to read an early copy of the book, and, largely by coincidence, help me out with a beta read.
But I just can’t feel good about it. ** [See edit below.]
- “I’d like to volunteer. I know there is probably some precautions you have to take to make sure it’s not leaked, but I’ll do whatever you need, sign a contract, send in a testicle, mail in a kid for collateral, whatever… seriously though I can keep my mouth shut.”
Ultimately, this strikes at the heart of the issue.
Back when I was working on The Name of the Wind, I would give a copy of the book to anyone who even hinted they wanted to read it.
Getting other people’s feedback on the book is a key element of my revision process. You see, I’ve read this book so many times in so many versions, that I need an external view of it. A triangulation point, if you will…
But these days, I can’t just hand it out all higgledy piggledy. Things are more complicated. These days I have to worry about people leaking early, crappy versions of the book onto the net months before the pub date.
I know, deep in my heart of hearts, that most people would never dream of doing such a thing. But all it takes is one jackass….
And yeah, I have a non-disclosure form. Everyone signs it before they get the book. Even Sarah signed it.
It’s a vicious fucking thing that goes something like this:
You, by signing below, agree that you’ll do everything in your power to protect this manuscript and keep its contents secret. If you fail in this, and are a big chatty Cathy about it, I, Patrick Rothfuss, will fuck you up.
I will do this on all possible levels: financially, socially, physically, and spiritually.
If you lend it to your girlfriend who leaves it on the bus and then some jackhole finds it and it ends up on the internet, I will de-corn your cob. Seriously. Your entire cob. Every single kernel of corn. I am not even fucking kidding….
It goes on like that for some time. It is so terrifying that one of my friends said he didn’t feel comfortable leaving the house with his copy of the book.
But really, the non-disclosure form isn’t going to help. If the book gets leaked, I’ll be pissed forever, and suing some daft bastard into the ground won’t fix that.
- “Do i have to invade a small nation? Do I have to sing show tunes in Times Square? Or is it just one of those “inner sanctum of friends” kind of thing?”
Ultimately, yeah. At this point it is. I have to know you personally, so I can trust you. It’s also important for me to know you because that helps me put your comments in context.
The other problem is that for me to really get the most out of a beta reader, I like to be able to sit down with them over coffee and chat about the book. I like to be able to leaf through the manuscript, ask them questions about their comments, and pick their brains about certain key issues. And seeing how most of you don’t live here in Stevens Point, that’s kinda hard.
So this blog is to say thanks to everyone who offered to help. I’d love to be able to take you up on your offers, but I’m afraid I’ll have to pass.
More soon,
pat
** Edit – May 18th
When I looked at the comments today, I was surprised to see people offering hugs of consolation, and giving me support, and telling me not to let the messages get me down.
This was kind of a surprise to me, as the messages I got from people asking to be beta readers were, by and large, lovely, considerate, flattering things.
So I re-read the blog and found the problem. It’s the following line:
“But I just can’t feel good about it.”
What we have here is a classic case of unspecific pronoun. It seems like I’m saying that I can’t feel good about all the people asking to read book two. But that’s not the case. I’m cool with that. As I’ve said, it’s really rather flattering, and I wish I could take people up on their offers. Because, as I’ve said, I love feedback.
That sentence should read, “But I just can’t feel good about handing out copies of book two to strangers.”
This, my friends, is why I do a lot of revisions. One misused pronoun and the entire emphasis of a piece of writing gets fucked up.
Just wanted to clarify.
Love,
pat








Book Two and a Reading in Duluth
Okay. In keeping with my tradition of slapdash scheduling. I’m going to be doing a reading/signing/Q&A session next week up in Duluth. It’s at the local Barnes and Noble on Tuesday the 12th at 7:00.
More details are over on the tour page. I also created a facebook event, if you want to use that to invite your friends without having to go to all the unpleasant work of actually talking to them.
If y’all would help spread the word a bit, I’d appreciate it. I hate doing these things on such short notice, but I only found out last week that I’d be up in the Duluth area.
And now, a piece of fanmail:
Dear Mr. Rothfuss,
As you are no doubt aware, in your April 28th blog post, you mentioned that the manuscript would be done by September.
I’m guessing you are furiously trying to put the finishing touches on the manuscript, but us fans would love an update about how the work is going. I really enjoyed your August 16th post about what revision work actually entails, and always enjoy getting a view of what your day to day work is like.
Thanks for updating the blog so frequently, it makes the waiting a lot easier, and we love hearing from you.
-Asa
Asa,
I did actually get the manuscript to my editor on schedule. She’s probably reading it even as we speak. Um. Type. Or rather, as you read what I have typed. In the past.
You know what I mean.
That means I get a little bit of a vacation while I’m waiting to hear back from her. Or rather, it means that I would get a bit of a vacation if I wasn’t still obsessively tinkering with the book.
Yesterday, for example, I re-read 87 pages of book two.
(Note that these pages aren’t the length of a paperback page or a manuscript page. They’re my own page layout that I use for editing.)
Anyway, I spend yesterday re-reading these 87 pages of the book. As I read, I try to winnow out the extra verbiage, making the book quicker and easier to read. My philosophy is that if I take out everything that is merely meh, all that’s left will be the parts that are really super-wow. That means that the book will be, in the parlance of our time, good.
Sometimes while I was reading I would get an idea for a different part of the book, and I’d skip off to another part of the book to make the change. Sometimes I would make a change that necessitated making a few other changes throughout the book to maintain consistency.
But mostly I was just word-winnowing.
So yesterday I re-read 87 pages of the book. Pages that I’ve already read at least 100 times. It took 8 hours during the time that is, theoretically, my vacation.
At the end of those 8 hours, the book was 600 words shorter. I hadn’t trimmed a scene. I’m long past that stage. All the chaff scenes were gone months and months ago. These days if I want to tighten up the book, I have to hunt out little bits and phrases. Lines of dialogue that don’t sparkle. Non-essential snippets of description. Single superfluous words.
As I was going home, I wrestled with a familiar thought. Specifically, I wondered if I was insane.
Again, I’d spent an entire day making changes to the book that nobody would ever really notice. And I have to ask myself, is it really worth it?
Then I did the math.
A paperback page holds about 340 words, less if you use a lot of dialogue. (Which I do.) So by trimming 600 words, I’d effectively made my book about two pages shorter.
I’m guessing a quarter million people will read book two. In the US anyway. Last I heard, that’s about how many copies of NOTW have been sold.
That means, taken all together, I’ve spared my readers 500,000 pages of *meh* text.
Let’s assume it takes about a minute for a person to read a page. Roughly.
500,000 minutes = 8333 hours = 347 days.
That means, taken all together, I’ve saved my readers a full year of meh reading. That’s not counting foreign translations, book club versions, and people who read the book multiple times.
When I think of it that way, I guess it doesn’t seem so crazy. Which is good, because I don’t think I could stop being obsessive like this even if I wanted to.
Later all,
pat