Day 27. 99 pages, 43,236 words.
Yes, I’m getting to the First Feast. This week, man. Don’t get me started on this week. Today, I am visiting Helsinki for an extended tour, for my medical consultation with the doctors about my MRI results (remember Magnet Truck? Still deserves a cartoon series, Magnet Truck does) and my blood tests from yesterday.
With any luck I will be given another all-clear, making four years in a row that I have been cancer-free. Which puts me four-fifths of the way to the official You Beat Cancer line, where I rejoin the rest of humanity
I saw this news story the other day. Well, I say “news”…
Yes, George RR Martin did not expect the Game of Thrones TV show to catch him. I guess time makes fools of us all.
So, yeah. “I had such a huge lead, but the truth is, I’m a very slow writer.” See what I mean about this not being news?
Seriously though. We’ve been over this and over this. And yeah, I was over-optimistic in my expectation / prediction that the TV show would give Martin a boost, and make him more invigorated and ready to work on the rest of the series. But apparently not.
I’m still left in the increasingly-minority position of a) feeling sympathetic towards him because this is his Big One and all anyone ever says about it anymore is that it’s taking forever for the next part to come out, and b) feeling that he doesn’t owe me a darn thing. If and when he publishes again, I will buy the book and that’s on me. Yes, he’s halfway through a story. Yes, there’s a perceived contract between storyteller and audience, but the magnitude and form of that contract is entirely the storyteller’s decision. Any legal contract he has with his publishers is another matter, but I can almost guarantee that any failure on the storyteller’s part to tell his or her story is going to be more saddening and disappointing to the storyteller than any amount of bleating from the audience about the stupid storyteller’s contract. Maybe I’m a pathetic fanboy who thinks Martin can do no wrong. I don’t care.
 Actually, on the face of it this is still good, because it should mean that people are looking forward to the next part … but it seems as though in recent months and years, this has changed from keen anticipation to a sort of derisive hostility, and I don’t like that.
He knows, alright? He knows about the contract. He’s a writer. He wants to tell that story. If he doesn’t – if sitting at his keyboard has become a chore, if he has become bored or resentful of his characters, if he doesn’t want to go into that world anymore and follow them to the next series of adventures – then the story will stop.
And there is nothing we can do about that. And there’s no punishment we can exact that will hurt him more.
I promise you.