Category Archives: my beard

Snowmen and Second Chances

So earlier this month, I started to catch up on certain things in my life. I turned in a story that’s three months late. I caught up on reading my backlog of e-mail (well… most of it). I got back in touch with people I’ve been meaning to e-mail for months.

And at the beginning of the month, spring started to arrive here in Wisconsin.

You would think this would be a cheerful thing for me. Birds singing. Flowers budding. All that Disney shit.

But you’d be wrong about that.

For one thing, you’re thinking of the wrong sort of spring. In Wisconsin, spring really just means the snow melts. Everything is brown and grey and muddy. It rains. The trees stretch their bare, black branches into the slate-grey sky like they’re auditioning for a part in a particularly emo T.S. Elliot poem.

Yeah, eventually things green up. It gets warm. Trees bud. But that’s in May. That’s *late* spring. Early spring is depressing as fuck.

The other reason spring isn’t very cheerful for me is that in my head, spring isn’t a beginning time. Spring is an ending time for me. Maybe it’s because for 20+ years of my life, I lived by the school year, rather than the calendar year. And May (Which again, is spring in Wisconsin) is the end of the school year.

Whatever the reason, spring is a melancholy time for me. I don’t think, “Yay! A new year is starting!”

No. I think, “I was so busy this winter that I didn’t take time to make a single snow angel. I didn’t build a snow fort like I wanted to with Oot. I didn’t even make a snowman with him. I don’t think I even made a snowball this year.”

It’s a depressing thought.

Luckily for me, Stevens Point got about three inches of snow last week. Then last night, on Saturday, we got about four more. Good wet packing snow.

It’s nice to get a second chance. Especially when you don’t deserve it. To ignore such a gift would be reckless to the point of arrogance.

So today I took a couple hours and focused on the important things.

Best crop

(Click to Embiggen.)

Those of you who live in the uncivilized backwaters of the world might not know what Sarah is doing back there. But anyone here in Wisconsin can tell by the tracks in the snow….

We’re making snowmen. Snowpersons, rather. A whole snow family.

Snow family

The one in the middle is Oot, pretending to be a snowchild with his corncob pipe. Or, as he refers to it, his smoker.

If you have trouble with snowman gender identity, let me clarify by pointing out that the one on the right is me, while the one on the left is Sarah. You can tell because the one on the left is more cheerful, and looks better in her hat. While the one on the right is more full of shit.

And no, I’m not speaking figuratively. I’m talking about this:

full view

Can’t see it? Let me get you closer….

Close up of deer

There’s a herd of deer that regularly hang out in our backyard. This is one of the many nice things about living in central Wisconsin. Some deer poop in your snowman is a small price to pay. It’s as inoffensive as rabbit poop. The two are virtually indistinguishable, truth be told.

The other way you can tell the difference between snowme and snowsarah is that snowme has an icicle beard….

icebeard and pat

Next time, I think I’ll go for the pine beard, as the icicle one is hard to see.

If you can’t tell which one is the real me, it’s the one on the right. I have better posture than snowme, and I’m more full of shit. (Figuratively.)

Also, for those of you who are curious, that is my favorite coat. (Well… I only have two, but it’s still my favorite.) I’ve had it for over twenty years. That’s why it looks a little the worse for wear….

Anyway, to wrap things up, here’s our whole snow family:

snowfam

And with that I will leave you.

May you all have a relatively pain-free tax day. May you all have ample opportunity to make snowmen, and more second chances than you deserve.

pat

Also posted in day in the life, Oot, Sarah, small adventures | By Pat52 Responses

Books for Boobs

Sometimes I write a great blog and then struggle over the title for a ridiculous amount of time before eventually settling on something vaguely mediocre.

Other times, I write the title first and then think to myself, “Well, that pretty much says it all. Everything is going to be downhill from there.”

This is one of those times.

Earlier today someone sent me a message saying, “Are you going to blog about the books for boobs thing you did?”

My first thought was, “What the hell are they talking about? Was this something I did at a convention when I was really sleep deprived and crazy on sugary mochas? What did I do?”

I thought about it for a minute and dragged up a memory from a convention last July. “How the hell did they find out about that?” I thought to myself. “Did someone get pictures and post them on their blog?”

Luckily, it turns out I was thinking of something entirely different. But that, as they say, is a story for another time.

Books for Boobs is a charity event I donated a book to last year. They’re auctioning off stuff from different authors, including Jim Butcher, Brandon Sanderson, my mortal enemy Anton Strout, and the recently mentioned Amber Benson.

I recommend you go and check it out if only because I look kinda good in the picture they took of me. Forgive me my tiny moment of vanity, but it’s such a rare treat for me to see a picture of myself that doesn’t make me look like a bloody shambles.

Here’s the link.

Have a great weekend everybody….

pat

Also posted in a billion links, conventions, Jim Butcher | By Pat46 Responses

My Fictional Nature

It’s strange to me, knowing that if I write a blog, thousands of people will read it. Thousands and thousands. A ridiculous number of people, really.

It was less strange when I wrote the College Survival Guide for the campus paper. With the column, I knew what my job was. I wanted to make people laugh, and maybe, occasionally, slip a bit of reasonable advice to my unsuspecting readership.

Pure advice is unpalatable. It’s preachy. But if you make people laugh a little, they may not notice you’ve slipped them a little bit of truth. And even if they do notice, they’re more likely to forgive you for it.

I was a tiny bit of a local celebrity when I wrote that column for the campus paper. A few hundred people read it every week. On rare occasion people would recognize me as that-guy-who-writes-that-column. Once, the guy delivering a pizza to my house looked at my name on the credit card receipt and said, “Are you THE Pat?”

I laughed. “I didn’t know I’d become superlative,” I said.

I haven’t done the column for a couple years. These days I channel my humor writing into the blog instead. But there’s a difference. Back then I was a little bit famous because people read my column. Now people read my blog because I’m a little bit famous.

There’s more to it than that, of course. People read the blog because it’s amusing, or because they’re interested in news about upcoming projects and appearances. They tune in because they’re curious about book two, or because they’re looking for writing advice.

But mostly, people read the blog because they read my book and were curious about the author.

So I tell stories and post pictures. I screed and opine. I post up little pieces of my life. Then y’all take those pieces, fit them together, and you form an impression of me in your heads.

This is the interesting thing. It’s something I think about a lot. That person you create in your head out of these bits and pieces. That Pat Rothfuss you get to know from the blog, he’s fictional.

(It’s true that you could say the same thing of anyone. You could say that you don’t really *know* any of your friends or family, you just have flawed impressions of them based on your limited perceptions and experience.

This might be true in some small theoretical way, but in a bigger more practical way it’s pure bullshit. You know your friends. Let’s not become hopelessly meta here. If you follow that line of reasoning too far you end up in the pointless philosophical morass of relativistic solipsism.)

Anyway, my point is this: I think about this fictional Pat Rothfuss sometimes. I wonder what he’s like.

I expect in some ways, fictional Pat is pretty much like me. I’m honest to the point of blinding stupidity, and I talk about things here on the blog that any sensible person would keep quiet about. Anyone who’s ever seen me speak in public can attest to the fact that I can’t help but express myself freely and clearly, even if it’s not entirely appropriate.

Still, I can’t deny that I present an edited version of my life on here. The blog lies by omission. I talk about my signings and answer fanmail. I post a cute picture of my baby and talk about the new foreign edition of my book. I link to an interview and do a fundraiser for my favorite charity.

Given all of that, fictional Pat seems to have a pretty swank life. He seems really nice. He seems kinda cool.

And that makes me feel dishonest, because it’s not really true. You’re putting together the fictional me without the grubby bits. The truth is, I am at times a contemptible human being. The truth is, I have deplorable habits.

For example, when I go on Facebook, I post status updates talking about Dr. Horrible. Or I joke about the dream where I ended up in bed with Willow and Spike. I don’t mention what happened the other day with Oot.

You see, right now Oot loves my beard. In terms of desirability, beard ranks #3 in all creation. Boobs hold the top spot, of course, and the telephone is currently a strong #2. But other than that, he loves nothing more than to clutch at my beard.

I think gripping it appeals to some primal, monkey part of him. He gets his sticky little hands tangled up in the beard, and some piece of his primal baby brain thinks: “Good. I’m safe. If we’re attacked by a predator and forced to run to safety, I won’t be left behind.”

The problem is this: if you don’t have a long beard, you have no idea how painful it is to have it pulled. He could swing from my hair from all I care. He’s even managed to kick me square in the junk several times in an ongoing  campaign of sibling prevention. Those pains are nothing by compairison. Having your beard pulled hurts as much as when you’re walking around barefoot in the middle of the night and you stub your little toe really hard against a table-leg.

Usually I’m able to head him off when he grabs for it, but his motor skills have really been developing lately. So the other day, before I know it, he has both drooly little hands in it up to his forearms, then he yanks on it for everything he’s worth.

“Ahhh!” I shout. “Stop it you little fucker!”

Oot doesn’t seem to mind in the least. For all he knows I’ve just called him by one of his other countless names, (Thunderbutt, Prancibald, The Dampener…) He just laughs and tugs the beard some more, happy to be safe from prowling lions and packs of hyenas.

Still, it’s a shitty thing to say to your baby, and I feel bad about it.

The point is this: I suspect that fictional Pat would never refer to his adorable baby as, “you little fucker.” I suspect he’s better than that. I expect he’s a nicer person than I am.

Part of me thinks, even as I write this, “Of course you don’t talk about those things on the blog. Why *would* you? That’s not why people read the blog. You’re supposed to be putting your best foot forward….”

But then I think about that fictional Pat again, and I feel dishonest. There’s a difference between putting your best foot forward and subtly misrepresenting yourself.

The thing is, professionally, I should be careful here on the blog. If I was going to be smart about this, I’d never talk about sex or politics or religion, never make any jokes that could offend anyone, never tell you a story that makes me looks like the idiot I sometimes am. The smart thing for me to do is carefully groom and maintain this fictional Pat and use him as a promotional tool.

But the truth is, the thought of maintaining that sort of professional persona makes me distinctly uncomfortable. Given the choice, I think I’d rather be too honest and have you like me a little less. I’d much prefer to look like a bit of an ass, because… well… I am a bit of an ass.

So tomorrow I think I’ll post up a story of one of the countless times I’ve made an fool of myself in public. Maybe I’ll tell a few of those stories. I don’t know if they’ll help round out the fictional Pat some of you have come to know, but I expect it will make me feel a little bit less like a poser.

Barring that, it should be good for a laugh or two.

See y’all tomorrow….

Pat

Also posted in a few words you're probably going to have to look up, BJ Hiorns Art, blogging, College Survival Guide, emo bullshit, ethical conundra, Oot, things I shouldn't talk about | By Pat112 Responses

Home again, home again….

… jiggedy jig.

After about two solid weeks on the road, I’m back at home.

I really didn’t plan on doing so many signings on this trip. But I seem to have a knack for starting things that I think will be small and having them spiral rapidly out of control.

Still, now I know I can do a reading/signing a day and not burn out. It was actually a lot of fun. In fact, if I hadn’t been driving about six hours a day on top of that, it would have been downright relaxing.

The upshot is that it’s much more likely I’ll try to do a bit of a tour when book two comes out…

All the signings went remarkably well, by which I mean nobody threw anything at me or left the room crying halfway through. We got about a hundred people at each store, (sometimes a little more, sometimes a little less) which really surprised me, as we kinda threw this whole thing together at the last minute. I’m still more than a little baffled by the fact that some people are willing to drive 2-3 hours to come see me read and get their book signed.

What were the signings like? About what you’d expect:

(Click to Embiggen)

More details in a day or so. Right now I’m still catching up on my sleep and wading through the last of my accumulated e-mail…

pat

Also posted in appearances, fan coolness | By Pat64 Responses

On the Road

Dear Pat,

I won’t be able to make any of your readings over the next two weeks, but I was wondering. How do you get ready for something like that? I’ve done a little public speaking in the past, and it terrifies me. I can’t help but think that it must be a million times worse if you’re reading your own stuff to a huge roomful of people.

So that’s my question. What does an author do to get ready for a public reading?

Best of luck on your trip.

Dan

The truth is Dan, I’ve wondered the same thing myself.

I mean, I know how *I* get ready for a reading. But I wonder what other authors go through when they’re getting ready.

A lot of authors I’ve talked to admit to having public speaking jitters. Some of them downright hate it. But that’s not a problem for me. Public speaking is old hat. I’ve done commencement addresses, sermons, lectures, and more panels than you can shake a stick at.

Plus I used to do improv comedy. And let me tell you, after you’ve done improv comedy, no other type of public speaking will ever scare you. It’s like a trial by fire.

In general, I imagine other authors think about regular things before a signing tour. They worry about who’s going to show up, or what they’re going to read. Maybe they dither over what sort of shirt they’re going to wear.

Me, I worry about my hair.

At least that’s what I’ve been doing for the last several days. I’m about to leave on a little signing tour, 8 readings in 9 days. I’m looking forward to it, and I’m looking forward to seeing who shows up.

The problem is, I haven’t had a haircut in about 8 months. It’s something that never occurs to me until I have to make a public appearance. Normally every 3-4 months I’m forced to brush up against the edges of civilization. I go to a convention, or a wedding, or something, and so I get a haircut to clean myself up for that.

But lately I’ve been so busy with revisions and the new baby that I haven’t done any of those things. And that means almost a whole year without a haircut. That means that I look like a cross between a hobo, John the Baptist come out of the desert, and a particularly shaggy Muppet. I look, in fact, like one of those green men statues. Except not green.

Normally I’m fine with this. But when I make public appearances I feel bad showing up looking all wodwo. I feel like if people show up to see me, I should try to groom myself down to the point where I won’t frighten small children.

But here’s the problem. This week when I tried to make an appointment for a haircut with the only person I trust to cut my hair and beard… but she couldn’t fit me in to her schedule. And I can’t trust some random barber. Last time I did that the fucker sheared me like a fucking sheep.

So now, the day before I drive off to do my signings, I’m faced with an awful choice. Show up looking like the crazy guy at the bus station, or risk a haircut that would make a prison barber wince. I still haven’t decided…

The other thing that I think about before I go on a trip like this is what I’m going to listen to in the car. I’ve become a sucker for audiobooks lately, and this trip is going to put me behind the wheel for almost 40 hours.

So I’ve got a return question for some of you out there. Do you have any good audiobooks to recommend? I’ve already listened to everything by David Sedaris, Neil Gaiman, and Garrison Keillor.

Here. I’ll start things out with a recommendation or two of my own.

The BBC dramatization of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.

These BBC audio productions of the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy are really great. What’s even better is that they contain different materials than the original books. That means even if you know your the source material inside and out, you can still be pleasantly surprised.

The later ones weren’t done my Adams himself. But I have to say (and this is something that you will probably never *ever* hear me say again) I liked the ending of the final audiobook better than I like the ending of Adam’s original novel.

I know. Blasphemy.

Anyway. Trust me. These are brilliant. Share and enjoy.

Shades of Grey by Jasper Fforde.

I listened to this just recently, and I was absolutely blown away by it.

That said, I don’t know how I’d describe the entirety of it to someone.

It’s funny without being goofy. It’s clever without being pretentious. It’s original without being desperate. And it has an element of what I consider the divine ridiculousness: a delightful, subtle, strangeness that is funny while still touching on some underlying truth.

I feel like I should say more about it, but I can’t think of what else to say. Except, perhaps, that it’s probably the best book I’ve read in a year or so. And Sarah really liked it too, if that sways you at all…

So what about you guys? Do y’all have any good audiobooks that you can recommend? I’m going to need a few more before I’m done with this trip….

P.S. I’m asking for audiobooks, mind you. Don’t recommend a book that you liked and you’re thinking *would* make a good audiobook. The narrator makes a huge difference in these things, so don’t tell me it’s good if you haven’t listened to it yourself.

pat

Also posted in appearances, audiobooks, Fanmail Q + A, recommendations | By Pat252 Responses
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