Category Archives: my rockstar life

A few updates: Coolness and Prizes

Those of you who read last week’s blog about the Gaiman-Day scale of coolness might be interested in this picture:

(Click to Embiggen)

These are just the weekly stats, and my numbers are artificially inflated by my recent blog post. But still, if you’re like me, it’s nice to get to play with the cool kids, even if it’s just for a week or so.

In other news, we’re still dealing with the aftermath of this year’s fundraiser. It’s going a lot slower this year because we’ve got WAY more stuff to sort, package, and ship out.

Just to give you a basis for comparison, this was our prize shelf last year:


I was really proud of that shelf and all the authors that contributed to it. But still, you can see that a lot of the books on there are mine.

These are our prize shelves this year…

(Click to Embiggen)

Huzzah.

This doesn’t even include all the swag from Subterranean Press, as they’re shipping out their own books. (God bless them.)

Try not to be distracted by the extreme coolness of my brick-and-board shelves which, I would like to mention, I put up by my very own self.

As you can see, a *lot* more authors chipped in this year. Which gives me a warm, glowy feeling of goodwill toward the entire sci-fi & fantasy community. It goes without saying that the donations from DAW and Gollancz made a world of difference, too.

And just so you know, we’re not contacting all the winners beforehand. It would be *way* too much work. You’ll know you’ve won something when a package shows up in the mail. Please don’t e-mail to ask if you’ve won….

[Edit 2-2-10 Answers to a few questions:

I’m not going to post up a list of everyone’s names that that won, because not everyone wants their name posted up on the internet. Just in case any of you were wondering, it’s not cool to post personal information about people on the internet without asking first.

I’m not going to e-mail everyone asking if I can post their info up on the net either. Because, well… duh.

What I will be doing is asking folks to take pictures of themselves and their prizes, then we’ll post them up here. That way, even if you didn’t win something yourself, you can live vicariously through the joy of others. That’s kinda what worldbuilders is all about.

The big winners I’ve already contacted personally. The people who won Gaiman and Sanderson’s books, as well as the guy who won the golden ticket. I’ll be putting up some information about them, if they’re cool with it.

We can ship to PO boxes just fine. Don’t worry about it. If something is strange or confusing about your address, rest assured that we’ll contact you to sort it out.
End edit.]

More blogs on the way….

pat

Also posted in Subterranean Press, Worldbuilders 2009 | By Pat40 Responses

Is Patrick Rothfuss Fashionable?

In my last post I said in an offhand way, “fashionistas among you will note my stylish geekware.”

The joke, of course, lies in the fact that I am about as unfashionable as a person can be. I expect that the fashionistas pay as much attention to me as I pay to being fashionable. Which is to say, none. I am many things, but I am not one of the gliterati.

However, after that post, someone sent me a link to a blog that asked the question I thought nobody in their right mind would ever ask. Namely: Is Patrick Rothfuss Fashionable?

Share and enjoy,

pat

Also posted in do I look fat in this | By Pat29 Responses

Muahahahahaha!

Right now I’m at GenCon, hunting the wily catgirl in her natural habitat.

While I’m busy, here’s something interesting from the New Yorker.

Yeah. Seriously.

pat

Also posted in accolades | By Pat64 Responses

My Trip to LA: Part One

So, it’s been about a month since my trip to LA.

Now some folk will quibble and say that I was in *Pasadena,* not LA. But that is a distinction that matters primarily to folks who live in the LA area. To the rest of us, that entire gob of city there in Southern California is all LA.

It’s best not to split hairs about these sorts of things. If we’re going to get technical, I would have to explain to people that I’m not originally from Madison proper. I’m actually from the Town of Burke, right next to Madison. And right now I’m not in Hayward, hiding from the world and writing, I’m in the nearby township of Lenroot, or something like that.

These are pointless little truths that don’t do anyone any good.

This is the art of storytelling, you see. Telling small lies in pursuit of a larger truth. The art of being a reader is being willing to work a little to get at the meat of the story, while at the same time accepting the occasional bent technicality and comma splice.

Anyway. LA was awesome. I was flown out by the lovely folks responsible for one of the winning pictures in the photo contest. Not only are these ladies lovely and willing to get naked for my book, but they are also rocket scientists. Seriously. So while I was out there, I got to take a tour of JPL and look at cool spaceship stuff.

I got to see oranges growing on trees. Which might not seem like a big deal for most of you, but for me it was pretty cool. I also saw lizards running around wild, and can now identify a eucalyptus tree. I got to play some new board games and walk around outside without wearing a coat or hat or anything.

The book signing itself turned out to be a marvelous success. We had a surprising number of people show up, I’m guessing 100 or 120. They had to bring out a bunch of extra chairs, and even then people were standing in the isles and sitting on the floor.

It was a good crowd. I read a few Survival Guides, a poem, and a snippet of book two. I told some stories, answered questions, and got a few laughs. Afterwards, I signed a buttload of books and got to chat one-on-one with folks. Someone brought me wine, someone else brought me an entire care package including memory sticks and tickets to Disneyland.

Though I love the swag, I feel obliged to remind folks that the “Something Cool” rule only applies to books you’re mailing in for me to sign.

That said, if you have something you’d *really* like to give me, far be it from me to stop you….

Of particular interest was something that happened halfway through the reading. I was answering some question or another, and I looked out and saw Felicia Day sitting at the back of the crowd.

Now this is the point in the story where I don’t exactly know what I should say. Normally when I’m telling a story out of my real life, I go with the truth, even when it’s embarrassing or unflattering. I don’t know exactly why I feel obliged to do this, but I do.

But for some reason, as I tell this story, I want to lie. I want to pretend I was laid-back about it. Pleased, of course, but also nonchalant. I’d like to portray myself as relaxed… cool. Like the Fonz from Happy Days. Or like the modern-day fantasy author version of the Fonz: Neil Gaiman.

I’ve seen Neil Gaiman a couple times. He’s a great public speaker, funny, insightful. He knows how to work a crowd, and he’s irritatingly good at reading his own work out loud.

Even better, he’s terribly gracious in person. I once watched him get ambushed by a fan who was desperate to have Gaiman read his manuscript. The guy clung to Gaiman and wouldn’t take no for an answer. I found it irritating from a distance of fifteen feet, but Gaiman was unfailingly polite through the whole exchange.

I’m not graceful in that way. I honestly don’t know how I come across in public, but sometimes I expect that it’s something like the way my old dog, Pup, used to behave.

He was a big liony mutt that I grew up with as a kid. An outside dog who never knew a fence, as we lived out in the country and let him run wild. He a smart dog, and a vicious hunter. He patrolled our house, protecting us from pretty much anything.

Despite the fact that he was a great hunter and defender, he was also very friendly. Unfortunately, it was like he never figured out that he wasn’t a puppy anymore. When someone came over for a visit, Pup would jump up on them, putting his paws up on your chest (or your shoulders, if you were shorter) and lick your face.

This is fine behavior if you’re a fluffy puppy with milk-breath, or if you’re an adult dog hanging out with your family. But Pup treated everyone that way, even when he was full grown, shaggy, and smelling of whatever interesting he had found to roll in.

I suspect that’s what I must be like when I’m in public most of the time. I’m this great shaggy beast who gets excited about meeting new people, and does the conversational equivalent of jumping up on people and licking them in the face.

This means that when I want to be socially graceful, I need some sort of internal touchstone about how I should act. So when I see Felicia Day sitting in the back of the room, I think to myself: WWNGD?

I’m guessing he would not, for example, stand up at his own reading and say: “Holy shit everybody! Felicia Day is here!”

So I didn’t either. But I tell you, it was a near thing. I’m pretty sure I kept my game face on, and kept answering whatever question I was in the middle of. But the truth is, inside I was standing up and pointing, shouting: “Holy shit! Everybody! Felicia Day!” with all the enthusiasm of a four-year-old who has just seen his first real firetruck drive by on the street.

(Re-reading this, I think I need to add another item to my ever-growing list of Things You Should Never Compare a Woman to Under Any Circumstances. Number Seven: Firetruck. Perhaps any type of truck.

For the record, please note that this particular use of firetruck is being used to describe my reaction to Felicia, not Felicia herself.)

Anyway, after the reading, I managed to grab Felicia and chat for a bit before I started signing books. By this point I’d settled down a bit and was able to behave like a regular human being.

But still, every once in a while, my head would spin around a bit and I would think, “Wha? Who is this? Holy shit. I’m talking with Felicia Day!”

*****

Well folks, due to my tangential nature, this particular blog has ended up being WAY longer than I’d intended. I’ll post the rest of it in a day or two, how’s that?

In the mean time, if you don’t know what the big deal is, you can go check out Dr. Horrible, where Felicia plays Penny. Or The Guild, which Felicia writes and produces in addition to playing the part of Codex.

Later,

pat

Also posted in a billion links, BJ Hiorns Art, Felicia Day, meeting famous people, Neil Gaiman, tangentality | By Pat24 Responses

A writer’s job…

Friend and fellow fantasy author Drew Bowling just sent me the following story. It amused me, so I thought I’d share….

I keep running into random people who have read The Name of the Wind. Most of these incidents are pretty damn funny, but I usually forget to send them your way. Here’s the most recent:

New Years Eve, I’m partying in Bethesda (city on the edge of Washington D.C.). The ball drops, and a girl starts kissing one of my buddies. When that’s all over and done with, I decide to say hi to her, in order to make sure she isn’t a succubus (sober, I was not).

We trade pleasantries, and I tell her I’m a writer. She thinks this is cool, especially since I write fantasy, because she loves fantasy.

“What’s your favorite book?” I ask. Well, it turns out to be your book, Pat. So I tell her I’ve meet you, that you’re a cool guy, and that no, I doubted you actually knew a name for the wind – other than wind – which would make it do magical things (yes, she really asked me this, and yes, she also had been drinking).

At that point, I suddenly become very cool, or at least much cooler that I was before (which, in hindsight, wasn’t cool at all, but rather something of a sweaty mess). So my friend wanders over, and I, being a pillar of loyalty, wander away – but not before I hear the girl say: “I wish Pat had been here at midnight.”

I love a story with a happy ending.

If only I *had* been there. I can picture it clearly in my mind. The party is dimly lit, she sees me across the room, her eyes widen in surprise. Then I hear the three words every man longs for…

“It’s a bear!” she screams drunkenly. Then, mad with terror, jumps through a plate glass window and falls three stories to her death. Probably landing on my car.

Seriously though. How come I never end up at parties with hot qua-succubi who want to get all makey-outy with a fantasy author? We need kissings too, you know. For research. Into…. verisimilitude. Kvothe does eventually engage in the wicked co-mutual pressing of lips, you see. And I worry if I don’t gather enough data before finishing those scenes I won’t be able to make it really *real* for the reader.

Yeah. That’s it.

pat

Also posted in musings | By Pat36 Responses

Just to let you know….

Hello everyone,

This is just a quick note to let you know that I’m back from my trip to California and that the quiet here on my blog doesn’t stem from the fans out there killing me and selling my furry pelt on e-bay.

It was a great time. A lovely break from my current lonely snowbound writing existence. I played board games, hung out with rocket scientists, and got to have a Jamba Juice with Felicia Day.

Yes. That’s right. A Jamba Juice. I was pretty excited, let me tell you.

But before you go wishing you were me, be aware that I paid dearly for my decadent weekend. I was trapped in Minneapolis all Sunday due to Northwest Airline’s asshattery. Monday, hours after returning home, I was brought low by a terrible plague. Don’t ask for details, but know that I have only today recovered enough to crawl to my computer, check e-mail, and bask in the healing glow of Facebook.

More soon,

pat

Also posted in Achievement Unlocked!, Felicia Day | By Pat35 Responses

Home for the Holidays

While I live in the cozy little town of Stevens Point, I grew up near Madison. That’s where my family is. It’s home, in the biggest sense of the word. That’s where I go when the family-type holidays roll around, and that’s where I went this Christmas.

A couple months ago, I went down to Madison to attend Wiscon. It’s nice to go to a convention that doesn’t involve spending all day on a plane, and this one is practically in my backyard.

While I was there, I ended up hooking up with Tobias Buckell and David Anthony Durham. And by “hooking up” I mean that we were going to hang out at the coffee shop and chat. Not that they aren’t attractive men and all… But… well. Yeah.

Anyway, before I go into the coffee shop, I hit the Jamba Juice next door. Because I love Jamba Juice. Specifically, I love the Orange Dream Machine smoothie. If there was a Jamba Juice here in Stevens Point, that is all I would eat. Ever.

So I get a smoothie and head across the street to the coffee shop. There, I order a mocha and politely ask if it’s okay for me to bring in my smoothie. The hipster behind the counter is cool about it, and I tip him generously.

So Toby, David, and I are waiting for our drinks when a policeman shows up. Not mall security. This is a real cop, blue suit, badge, gun and everything.

This makes me edgy. Back in high-school my friends and I used to be hooligans. Our main hobby was toilet-papering houses. In a small town like Deforest (which is where I went to school) that means that you have to get pretty good at dodging the cops, because most of their job was keeping us from doing stuff like that. It was like an elaborate game of tag.

My friends and I were pretty good at it, and we were never caught. We developed highly sensitive cop radar that let us know when to run or hide.

The unfortunate result is that these days, whenever I see a cop, I feel like I’ve done something wrong. This isn’t helped by the fact that at any given moment that I might be returning from, going to, carrying around, or at least thinking about something illegal.

So when I see the cop, I immediately feel shifty. I do a mental inventory of my pockets and backpack, wondering what I have on me that might get me in trouble. This is also a holdover from highschool. Back then, innocent things riding around in your car with you can get you in trouble. Things like fireworks, silly string, shaving cream, and, of course, the case of toilet paper in the trunk.

But I don’t have anything on me. Lockpicks might raise an eyebrow, but they’re legal to carry here in Wisconsin. I have a bottle of caffeine in my backpack. And while it looks suspicious, it’s not illegal either. I’m clean.

Still, I can’t help but feel like this cop is giving me the eye. I get my mocha and wander over to the condiment stand to add my requisite four or five sugars. I’m sure of it: he’s looking me over. Is it because I have terrorist beard? That might single me out in line at the airport, but in a coffeeshop in downtown Madison? Not likely. There are hippies here aplenty.

I head over to the table Toby and David have picked out, and he’s still watching me. What is it? Am I wearing my t-shirt that says, “You say tomato, I say fuck you.” No. Is it my black leather trench coat? Am I just radiating latent guilt? What? What?

He comes over to the table where I’ve just taken off my coat. His expression is serious, he’s frowning a little. Then it occurs to me – the Jamba Juice. He knows that I shouldn’t have it here in the coffee shop. Is it illegal to have a carry-in?

He then he says. “Did you write The Name of the Wind?”

And I’m floored. He’s read my book. We chatted for a bit, and I got to look popular in front of my fellow writers.

However, I knew that for what it was, a fluke. There had been a story about me in the paper a couple days before. A “Local Boy Does Good” sort of thing. They used a picture of me, and I have to admit I do have a bit of a distinctive look.

Jump forward to last week. Sarah and I are walking out to my car in the Borders parking lot. Heading toward the bookstore is a stranger, making more than the usual amount of eye-contact. As he had some respectable chin growth, I figured he was just expressing beard solidarity.

But then, as he comes closer he nods and says, “I like your work.”

I say, “You’re kidding me. You know who I am?”

He does, apparently. Still, I can pass this off as a fluke too. It did happen in the parking lot of a bookstore, after all.

But then, two days later, I’m at the post office mailing the check out to Heifer. When I hand the guy the envelope, he looks down at it, then says, “Are you the writer Pat Rothfuss?”

So… yeah. It was weird. Cool, but weird. It’s nice that these last two things happened when Sarah was around, so she thinks I’m cooler than I really am. This is important because she’s much prettier and nicer than me. I need to have something to balance the scales out.

In unrelated news, I’m going to be making an appearance at a bookstore in Pasadena on January 17th. I can’t lay my hands on the details right now, but I’ll post them up as soon as I can find the appropriate piece of paper.

Hope everyone is having a good time,

pat

Also posted in appearances, fan coolness | By Pat42 Responses
  • What are my odds of winning?

  • Our Store

  • Previous Posts

  • Archives

  • My Twitter

  • Bookmark this Blog

    (IE and Firefox users only - Safari users, click Command-D)