Category Archives: concerning storytelling

Concerning Games, Torment, and a Sense of Play

Let me tell you a story.

Well, actually, let me tell you a story that consists of several stories. And it’s *about* stories.

This should not surprise anyone, really. This is what I do.

*     *     *

Back in 2009 I attended Gen Con as author Guest of Honor. It was one of my first GOH gigs, and at a convention I’ve been attending off and on for most of my adult life.

That said, I was still a pretty new author in 2009. I only had one book out, and had only been published for two years. People came to my signings and panels. I had fun. But honestly, I wasn’t a very big deal.

Wandering around the dealer’s hall, at one point someone came up to me and said, “What makes you so honorable?” When I gave him a baffled look, he pointed down at the ribbon on my badge that said. “Guest of Honor.”

“Oh,” I said. “I write books.”

“Oh,” he said. And walked away.

*     *     *

After taking a break from Gen Con for a couple years, I headed back in 2012. I wasn’t GOH or anything, and was mostly going to play some games and hang out with friends, including my new bestie Robert Gifford of Geek Chic.

But in 2012 I’d been published for *five* years. And I had *two* books out. I’ve hit #1 on the New York Times. I’ve been hugged by Felicia Day. I’m not really a big deal, but I’m certainly a bigger deal than I ever was before….

The difference was most notable when I walked around the dealer’s room. People would stop and say, “Are you Patrick Rothfuss?” And we’d stop and chat a little bit. One particularly memorable couple came up to me and said, “That’s the best Pat Rothfuss cosplay we’ve ever seen! The beard looks so real!” and asked to get a picture with me.

I won’t lie, it’s kinda fun. One of the main reasons I go to conventions is to meet up with my readers. My readers are lovely people.

Still, I was surprised at how *many* people recognized me. Artists, dealers running their booths. Catgirls.

On Sunday, a tall dark stranger came up to me and said, “You’re Pat Rothfuss, aren’t you?”

“Yup,” I said. We shook hands and I read his badge. “Nice to meet you Colin,” I gestured to the vast panoply of geekery around us. “How do you fit into all of this?”

“I write games,” he said.

“Role Playing stuff? Computer games?”

“Both,” he said. “I worked on Planescape back in the day…”

“The computer game?” I asked.

He nodded.

“Planescape Torment?” I asked.

He nodded again.

“You are fucking kidding me,” I said. “I was just talking to someone about Torment. That was one of the best games I’ve ever played.”

He looked at little surprised at this, “Wow,” he said. “I….”

“The narrative was brilliant,” I said. “It’s been ten years, and I haven’t known a game to come close to it.”

“Well…”

“I mean you had honest-to-god open-ended character development that was an integral part of the main narrative,” I said. “Nobody else has ever pulled that off as well. It was amazing.”

“It…”

“I still remember the interaction you could have with some of the NPC’s,” I said. “You actually had to be clever talking to them. You could offend them and piss them off. The writing was solid and smart. You had a branching narrative that still felt cohesive and engaging. I’ve never seen that handled so well except for maybe in the early Fallout games.”

“…”

“And the dialogue,” I said. “It was great. How the hell do you manage to write things like that? To keep track of all the different ways a conversation can go…?”

Eventually I shut up long enough for him to tell me he liked my books. We traded e-mail addresses, and he offered to show me what the dialogue trees looked like when you’re writing a computer game.

I was happy as a kid at Christmas.

*     *     *

A couple months later, in November, Colin and I chatted a bit.

“We’re going to be writing a game that will follow in Torment’s footsteps,” he said. “Good character. Good story.”

“I’m tingly at the very thought,” I said.

“Want to help write some of it?” he asked.

“Oh shit,” I said. “Yes. I’ve always wanted to take a poke a writing a computer game.”

“Cool,” Colin said.

“No,” I said. “I want to, but I can’t. I have to work on Book Three.”

“We don’t want you to write *all* of game,” Colin said. “Maybe just a side area. Subplot. A piece.”

I made a miserable noise. “I can’t.” I said. “My editor would be pissed. My readers would be pissed. I’m already behind schedule.”

“That sucks,” he said.

“Yeah,” I said.

I’m paraphrasing a bit, you realize. But the sentiment is dead-on. When I said “no” I felt like a kid who had to stay inside and practice the piano while all his friends got to go eat ice cream and have awesome sex on the moon.

Nate's illo

*     *     *

January 2013.

Colin: You sure?

Me: I really can’t. Revision is going slow. I should keep grinding away.

Colin: Fair enough. I understand.

*     *     *

March 5th

I bring in Colin McComb, Jerry Holkins (From Penny Arcade), and Veronica Belmont (From Sword and Laser) to talk about videogames and storytelling on Storyboard.

It ends up being one of my favorite episodes so far, probably because everyone is passionate and outspoken. Colin, Jerry, and Veronica all know so much more than I do on the subject, and that’s great.

(Sorry. It’s embedding ugly. Just click over to Youtube.)

Colin mentions the upcoming Torment game. They’re going to launch the kickstarter tomorrow. They’ve got a lot of great creative people on the project.

During the panel, I get a little crotchety about modern games. I make some noises along the lines of, “Video games are pissing away the storytelling opportunities available to them. There’s bad writing. Foolish mistakes. When I was a kid….”

Jerry steps in and says, “We’re at the helm now. If we see these things we don’t like, it’s our fault. [...] We can’t just point at it and expect the universe to fill it.”

It’s startling to hear. But he’s right, of course. I know he’s right.

*     *     *

March 6th

InXile launches their kickstarter for Torment: Tides of Numenera.

ca7e8489a13f74aa7858d6675437b0f8_large

They raise over $2,000,000 in less than a day. It seems like I’m not the only one who remembers those old games fondly.

*     *     *

March 7th

I realize the story I’m trying to write for an anthology isn’t working out. It’s my second attempt to write a story to fill this obligation I agreed to more than a year ago. I’m months overdue, and I feel like an asshole.

I need to get this story done and out of the way so I can get back to working on book three.

Though honestly, those revisions aren’t going that well either. It feels like a grind. It’s going slow.

*     *     *

March 10th

I’m at the Tucson Festival of Books, eating Pizza with Sam Sykes, Kevin Hearne, and Diana Gabaldon.

Sam Sykes says, “We’re at our most creative when we’re at play.” Then he tells a story about a famous director who would send people home for the day if they were taking their job too seriously.

And he’s right, of course. I know he’s right.

*     *     *

March 11th

Coming home from Tucson, I think to myself, “Fuck it. When I get home, I’m going to start a new story for that anthology. Something fun.”

*     *     *

March 12th

I decide I’m going to write a story about Bast.

I have no idea what the story will be about. I have no plan. I have no plot in my head. Honestly nothing.

When I teach, I stress that writing is not merely a communicative process. People think writers are effectively engaging in transcription. We have something in our heads, and we just write it down. That’s how people think stories happen.

But that’s not how it works. Writing can be communication. But most of the time, writing is a generative process. The story comes into being as it’s being written. It’s about discovery. Assuming you have to know what happens before you sit down to write is a rookie mistake.

So I sit my ass down. I decide I’m going to take my own advice. I’m going to write even though I have no plan. I’m going to write and see where it takes me.

I’m going to be irresponsible. I’m going to play.

At the end of the day, I’ve written 4,500 words.

*    *     *

March 12-16th

I write 16,000 words. Good solid words. That’s not even counting the crap I trimmed out and threw away. I finish the Bast story except for one or two small scenes. It will be a great fit for the anthology.

I feel great. I’m excited about writing again. I think about revising book three and it sounds fun. I want to get back to it.

If you don’t know how much 16,000 words is. Let me put it in perspective for you.

If I wrote 16,000 words every week. By the end of the year I would have produced over 800,000 words of text.

That’s twice as long as The Wise Man’s Fear.

If I can maintain my sense of play. I could easily write a book a year.

A book a year *plus* all the other things. Fun little stories. Poems and songs. Maps.

Games…

*     *    *

March 17th

I call Betsy, my editor. She’s glad to hear the writing’s going well again.

She’s not surprised that a fun side project has helped refresh me. She’s knows how writers’ brains work. She knows more about it than I do, actually. That’s her job.

She’s a great editor.

*     *     *

March 18th

I send Colin an e-mail. Then I decide to call him, instead because I know we’re getting down to the wire.

“Do you still want me?” I ask. “I know it’s kinda late.”

“We’d love to have you,” he said. “We can add you as a stretch goal.”

“How much writing are we talking about here?” I ask.

“Maybe 10,000 words,” Colin says. “More if you like. Less if you need it to be less.”

“Could I maybe help with some of the character arcs too?” I ask. “I’m pretty good with character. You could use me as a sounding board if nothing else, and ignore me if you think I’m being an idiot.”

“Um…. let me think,” Colin says sarcastically. I can hear the smile in his voice. “A chance to chat with you about stories and character development. I think the answer to that is…. yes. “

I want to for so many reasons. But still, I hesitate.

“We’ll pay you of course,” he says. He names a number. “I could get you more, if you need it.

“That seems fair,” I say. “I don’t want to put the squeeze on you.”

Then a knee-jerk instinct kicks in. “However…” I say in my best used-car salesman voice. “I do run a charity….”

“You mean Worldbuilders?” he says.

“Oh,” I say, pleasantly surprised. “You’ve heard of it.”

“Of course I’ve heard of it,” he says.

“Well,” I say slowly. “This year we started accepting corporate sponsorships….”

“I can make that happen,” Colin says. “I’ll talk to the boss, and one way or another, we’ll make it happen.”

“Okay,” I say. “You’ve got me.”

 *     *     *

So there you go. Pretty soon, within just a couple of hours, they’re going to be announcing my involvement in the project.

You can go and check out the Kickstarter over here.

I’m not going to lie. I think it’s going to be an awesome game, and I’m not just saying that because I’m writing a piece of it.

If you’re on the fence, here are a couple reasons to consider jumping into the kickstarter.

1. If you’re planning on buying the game eventually, it’s cheaper to buy it now.

2. If you know you’re going to want to try it later, chipping in early means they’ll be able to make it an even better game. More development money means more content.

3. If a healthy number of my readers rush over and jump onboard, I get to look kinda cool to the developers. They’ll think things like, “Oh, maybe we didn’t make a horrible mistake bringing that Rothfuss guy in.”

4. You have to give these guys credit for supporting Worldbuilders. That’s mighty damn nice of them.

5. This is the first step in my extended master plan. If this goes well, it means we’re *much* more likely to see a Kingkiller game. More importantly, a Kingkiller game I’ll be able to have a direct hand in. Personally, I think that would about a thousand flavors of awesome.

Later Space Cowboys, I’m off to sleep. I’ve got a story to finish tomorrow….

pat

Also posted in cool news, side projects, Stories about stories., Tales from the Con, The Story Board, video games, videos | By Pat150 Responses

Storyboard: A Call for Questions

For those of you who haven’t seen it yet. Here’s last month’s episode of Storyboard:

Not that I haven’t been proud of the other episodes, but I think we finally hit our stride with this one. It’s my favorite so far…

For episode #6, we’re doing something a little different. Since it’s happening on Jan 2nd, I know putting together a full panel of four writers will be tricky, as everyone is going to be either traveling because of the holidays or hung over from New Year’s. (Or still drunk from New Year’s).

Pat’s Edit: Sorry. I meant to say we’re doing this tonight, on January 1st. (At 8:00 PST)

So I’m going to team up with Mary Robinette Kowal this month. Together, we’ll be answering any questions people care to throw at us.

So if you happen to have any questions about the craft of writing, or the business of writing, or pretty much anything, post them in the comments below, and I’ll use them for Tuesday’s show.

Fire away….

pat

Also posted in calling on the legions, Geek and Sundry, Machine Gun Q&A, The Story Board | By Pat75 Responses

Things I Like: MS Paint Adventures

Looking for something to entertain yourself with while you’re waiting for a new blog?

Why not take a look at MS Paint adventures?

I stumbled onto it a few months ago and have been enthralled ever since.

The basic premise is the cartoonist draws a little scenario similar to one of those little solve-the-puzzle flash games. Then the readers make suggestions as to how best to interact with the environment/solve the puzzle/get out of the room/win the game. Then the cartoonist draws the next panel.

It doesn’t sound like much when I describe it that way, but when you reduce anything to a summary all the flavor gets lost.

I might as well say, “The Name of the Wind is a bunch of words that when you read them you learn a story about a guy who does some stuff.”

Yeah. It’s not exactly thrilling when you boil something down to its simplest elements. So you’ll have to trust me that Ms Paint Adventures is interactive storytelling at its finest.

Let’s try again: Ms Paint Adventures is one part webcomic, one part game, two parts parody, three parts role playing with a sadistic GM, four parts clever, three parts sarcastic, one part barb wire, one part sweet, sweet methadone. Plus awesome. Plus double awesome.

The author/artist is Andrew Hussie, and as one storyteller to another, my hat’s off to him. He’s doing something strange and wonderful over there.

You can read the current story which is in-progress. Or you can read the one that’s already finished.

Be warned, the finished story (Problem Sleuth) is over 1500 pages, and it will consume a large portion of your life if it gets it gets its hooks into you.

More blog soon,

pat

P.S. By this point I know I’ve spelled the “Reccomendations” tag wrong. And you know what? I’m pretty okay with that. I’m going to keep on spelling it wrong until I have time to go back and change them all. If I just change half of them, the link won’t work properly.

So take a deep breath and start thinking of ways to deal with it. I’m sure you can…

Also posted in cool things, recommendations, Things I Like | By Pat28 Responses

On the importance of treat-bringing

So a few days ago, it was St. Patrick’s day. This gave me thoughts. The thoughts led to feelings, and thence to musings. So I wrote about the musings and then planned to post that writing up here. Because that’s what I do…

But then, in the time between writing it up and finding a picture, I discovered I’d had similar thoughts before, a year ago, and I’d already written about them.

I considered not posting this newer blog because of that. But now I think I will. For one, I’m guessing many of you weren’t reading here a year ago. And for another, the blogs are remarkably different, despite the fact that they share the same seed.

There’s something to be learned about stories here, but I don’t know if I can articulate it.

Either way, here it is, if you care to read it.

*****

When I was a kid going to school, you were allowed to bring in a treat to share with the rest of the class on your birthday.

I don’t know if kids can still do this these days. Homeland Security probably has some sort of homebaked cookie alert system that never falls below orange. Maybe schools are only allowed to distribute snacks that are OSHA approved.

But when I was a kid, going to school in a place called, I kid you not, Pumpkin Hollow, you could bring treats.

This was a pretty big deal. Because if you brought treats for the rest of the class, you were cool, at least for the day.

But my birthday falls in the summer, outside the school year. That means I couldn’t bring in treats on my birthday, and was in real danger of being denied the one day of being cool every kid was entitled to.

This might not have been a big deal for other kids who got to be cool all the time. But I wasn’t cool, and it was a big deal for me.

Now I can hear some of you already beginning to think/type/say comforting things like, “Oh Pat, I’m sure you were plenty cool back then. You just didn’t know it…” Etc. etc.


(Click to embiggen. But beware, lest my young geekery blind you.)

So here is exhibit A. I was just looking for a picture of me as a kid, I didn’t expect to find one that so perfectly shouted my not-cool from the rooftops.

Okay, fine. The bullwhip was pretty cool. But other than that, you can tell this guy isn’t going to know the loving touch of a woman until… well… maybe ever.

What as I talking about again?

Oh yeah. The importance of treat-bringing in kid society.

When you’re a kid, these little things loom so large in our minds. After we grow up, we look and wonder how we could have ever gotten so worked up about being a leaf in the school play instead of a chicken. Missing a field trip was the end of the world.

And not being able to have a day when you brought in a treat in for the other kids to share… it was huge.

It’s important to remember that this doesn’t mean we were dumb back then and we’re clever now. That’s dangerous thinking, and it’s wrong, wrong, wrong. What it means is that when we were young, we knew the truth of things. And now that we’re older, we know different true things. We were right when we were kids and thought it was really important, and we are right now that we’re adults and realize it’s a little silly.

As with so many of my childhood problems, my mom stepped in to save me. She pointed out that my name was Patrick, and so I could bring in cookies on St. Patrick’s day.

Problem solved. So we made shamrock-shaped sugar cookies, and frosted them green, and I took them to school. And, for a day, I was cool. Well… cooler. Cool-ish.

I always think of that this time of year. Yesterday I realized everyone was wearing green and thought to myself, “Is it St. Patrick’s day?” I was amazed it had snuck up on me. It used to be such an important day for me. I always felt like it was my day, really. My mom gave that to me.

I never celebrate it now, though I always feel like I should. But I’m not Irish, and I don’t drink. So my options are rather limited. Still, I like the thought that on my surrogate birthday, everyone is out whooping it up.

To all of you out there who are the summer children. The kids that weren’t cool, or who weren’t cool very often. Know that I am one of you, and that you are my favorite sort of people.

Fondly,

pat

Also posted in mom | By Pat64 Responses

On Hollywood, Narnia, and the Nature of Stories

So the other night, I rented Prince Caspian.

The Chronicles of Narnia were my first chapter books when I was a kid. I can actually remember when my mom bought them for me. I was outside the Waldenbooks at East Town Mall. She came out of the store and she handed them to me. It was a big deal. I seem to remember her saying, “I think you’re ready for these.” But I don’t know if that is a true memory or not.

I do know that my mom was desperate to get me into reading chapter books. I just wasn’t interested. I liked picture books. When we went to the library, I would check out as many as they would let me, then I would take them home and read them all inside a day. Then I would pester her to make another trip to the library….

My mom chose well. I loved the Narnia books. It’s safe to say that they have a special place in my heart. It’s also safe to say that I might be overly sensitive when it comes to changes made in the story in the process of turning it into a movie.

That said, I liked the movie version of The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe. Sure, I had some quibbles, and a few things irritated me. But as a whole, I enjoyed it.

But Prince Caspian? Sucked. Sucked to a degree that made me angry. Sucked to the degree that I actually stopped watching the movie.

This never happens. I’m a narratovore. Once I start a story, I finish it. I can count the number of books I’ve stopped halfway through on one hand. And I can only think of one other movie that I actually stopped watching partway through.

I gave it a fair shake. I watched 40 minutes. Then, exasperated, I pushed the button on the DVD remote that tells me how much more time is left in the movie. The readout said that I had another hour and a half to go. Too much. I was done.

Now I’m well aware that you can’t just take a book and use it as a screenplay for a movie. The change in medium necessitates changes in the way the story is told. You can do things in print that you can’t do on the screen, and visa versa.

But here’s the thing. The rules of storytelling don’t change between mediums. Story is story. It doesn’t matter if you’re singing it around a fire or painting it on a cave wall.

That means that no matter how you’re telling it, you need your story to possess certain qualities. You need tension. You need conflict. You need your audience to be emotionally involved. You need good characters and good interaction between those characters. You need verisimilitude, drama, humor….

Okay, you don’t need ALL of those. But you should have most of them. And some are absolutely essential.

You know what isn’t essential? Scenery. Pretty actors. CGI.

Don’t get me wrong. Those things can be great additions to a movie. But they are not the story itself. Nor are they a functional story-substitute. They are the fancy icing roses on the corners of the cake. They only work because the cake is there, underneath. You can’t sit down and eat a whole plateful of frosting roses. Well, you can if you’re four years old or mentally deficient. But twenty minutes and a pound of frosting later you’re vomiting pink foam all over the couch.

Why? Because story is story, and icing is icing. Why doesn’t Hollywood realize this?

Now don’t get me wrong, I understand how hard it is to tell a good story. There are a thousand things that can go wrong. I learned most of them firsthand by screwing up my own book for years and years until I finally got it right. I imagine it’s even harder to do when you’re part of a team. Editors, writers, directors, and producers all have their fingers in the pie. I imagine it’s a classic case of too many cooks in the kitchen.

But when you’re making a movie that costs a hundred million dollars, you think they would take care to get the story right despite all that. The story is the foundation of the movie. It’s the cornerstone. It’s the key.

Hold on. Two hundred million? They spent TWO HUNDRED MILLION DOLLARS on that?

I know where the money went, too. Icing. CGI. Scenery. They shot the movie in New Zealand, Slovenia, Poland, and the Czech Republic.

And the scenery was beautiful. The CGI was flawless. Fine. I understand wanting to have those things. But why isn’t story given the same attention to detail?

Let’s say they needed a centaur for the movie, and the CGI people worked for a couple of weeks and then came back with something that looked like it was made from binder twine, turds, and paper mache.

Would everyone just shrug and move on with the movie? No. Someone would say, “This sucks. You fail at your job. Go back and bring me a real-looking centaur.”

And so the CGI is great. The scenery is gorgeous. The actors are pretty. And the story is a mess. How does story so consistently slip through the cracks? How can they not understand how important it is?

It’s not like they were making it from whole cloth, either. They had the book as a roadmap. A story that worked well. A story with good tension, character interaction, and a layered series of smoothly functioning story arcs. Why did they make a point of changing things that worked?

Feh.

What really drove all of this home for me was what happened the very next night.

Sarah said, “I’ve got a movie that I want you to watch.

Me: What is it?

Sarah: Harvey.

Me: [Sigh] The one where the guy has the imaginary friend that’s a rabbit? All sorts of people have tried to get me to watch that. It sounds dumb.

Sarah: It’s really good.

Obviously I’m not interested, but I can see that Sarah is excited. And she’s cute when she’s excited. er. Cuter. When she’s like that, saying no to her is like kicking a fluffy puppy.

Besides, as a whole, she has good taste in movies. She’s the one that got me to watch Fight Club and American Beauty.

So I watch it. This movie is more than fifty years old. Black and white. Probably shot on a sound stage. The sum total of their special effects probably amounted to a piece of string tied to a doorknob. On top of all that, it was fullscreen. Which I hate. HAAAATE.

And you know what? It was brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. I laughed. I cried. I want to watch it again. The best movie that I’ve seen in… in a long while.

If they made that movie nowadays, they would get ILM to make a ten million dollar CGI rabbit. Keanu Reaves would play Elwood P. Dowd. There would be a car chase. It would be filmed on location in Vancouver, Prague, and Akron. And it would suck suck suck. It would suck to the tune of two hundred million dollars because none of those things is in service to the story.

That’s all. Hope everyone is having a lovely weekend. And the next time you’re looking for a movie, you should check out Harvey.

Yes you, Hollywood. I’m talking to you.

pat

Also posted in recommendations | By Pat69 Responses

The Perils of Translation: Part 2

Hello there everyone,

Since I made my post about the translations of the book, a few people have asked if I would make my list of Translator guidelines public.

Unfortunately, I can’t. Well… that’s not true. I won’t. There are too many secrets in there.

Even if there weren’t secrets I’d be hesitant to do it. Not just because I’m cussed (though I am.) But because a lot of the beauty in a book comes from the things that are inobvious. If I pointed them all out to you, it would ruin it. It’s like when you have to explain a joke, you might get it afterwards, but it’s not really funny.

Still, since people asked, I can give you a little non-spoiler taste of the sort of questions that are asked, and the way that I tend to answer them. Just so you can see….

“Shamble-Men. Is this a term you’ve come up with yourself? I’m not happy with my translation for it yet. It doesn’t sound frightening enough in Dutch.”

The Shamble-men are entirely my own creation. The term doesn’t sound particularly scary in English either. But it have vaguely menacing, creepy overtones. This is partly because there is an old usage of the word “shambles” that also means a place where you butcher animals.

(That’s where we get the expression, “This place is a shambles.” Nowadays it means messy, but back in the day it meant strewn with bloody guts.)

Stagger-men would just be drunk. Shuffle men would be odd and slightly silly.

Imagine a homeless person, bundled against the cold, raggedy with a lot of hair. They’re dirty and ragged, and walking in a slow walk, as if they’re sick or hurt or very tired. It’s a slow slightly unsteady walk, dragging their feet a little. That’s what I’m trying to capture with “shamble.”

But the name should be vaguely menacing if you can manage it.

 

“In Tarbean, Pike calls Kvothe “Nalt.” What does this mean?”

“Nalt” is a mildly derogatory slang term. It’s a reference to Emperor Nalto, who mismanaged the Aturan Empire so badly that it collapsed…. The name is mentioned briefly during Kvothe’s first admissions interview.

 

“One last thing that I’d like to ask you, is your permission to change the names of Jake, Graham, Shep and Carter to more general-sounding names. These names have a very English sound, and though I initially had no intention of changing them, they keep “poking me in the eye” when I read the book in Dutch. Most or all other names are pretty universal. These I would like to change to Jaap (which is actually how we Dutchies abbreviate Jacob), Gard, Stef and Karsten.”

Those names are meant to be very plain, rustic even. They should be very common, rural names. If you need to change them to make them appear that way for your culture, that’s a great idea.

Keep in mind that Carter is, by profession, a carter: someone who drives a cart for a living. It would be nice to maintain that…

That’s all for now. PLEASE don’t take this an an invitation to pepper me with questions about the book. If that happens, all it will do is cut into my writing time, slowing down my revisions of book two…

Besides, a little bird told me that we’ll actually be getting a forum pretty soon, and when that goes live it will be the perfect place for questions and answers and of all sorts. So if you’ve got a question, don’t worry, its time will come. Just write it down and save it for the upcoming forum shindig.

Later all,

pat

Also posted in foreign happenings, translation | By Pat19 Responses
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