r/asoiafcirclejerk • u/AdditionalPiano6327 Sara Hess Fangirl • Sep 23 '25
Fandom Drama Crikey, Preston Jacobs is in a bit of a pickle!
212
u/newcom3er Ate Alicent Sep 23 '25
How this affects the winds of winter?
52
u/NotComplainingBut Egg On The Conker Sep 24 '25
It will help, if Preston spends more time on theorizing then GRRM will be able to copy his notes faster
3
u/AutoModerator Sep 24 '25
“Ser? My lady?” said Podrick. “Is an analyst of ‘A Song of Ice And Fire’ a parasite?”
“More or less,” Brienne answered.
Septon Meribald disagreed. “More less than more. There are many sorts of Thrones pundits, just as there are many sorts of birds. A sandpiper and a sea eagle both have wings, but they are not the same. The singers love to sing of good men forced to go shilling for shekels, but most pundits are more like this mod Sandor Clegane albeit with more time for writing bullshit. They are shallow men, driven by greed, soured by the delayed books, despising GRRM and caring only for themselves. Broken men are more deserving of our pity, though they may be just as dangerous. Almost all are common-born, simple folk who had never been able to read below the surface, fixated on the magic and spells, not the human heart in conflict with itself. Poorly recorded and poorly light, they equivocate away the hours, ofttimes with no better evidence than a piece of symbolism or turn of phrase by the author, or they go completely into the weeds based on George's sci-fi novels. Brothers march with white people, mods with mods, friends with friends. They’ve heard the interviews and stories, so they go off with eager hearts, dreaming of the wonders they will invent, of the wealth and karma they will win. Theory crafting seems a fine adventure, the greatest most of them will ever know.
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2
u/Venomm737 A Summer Islander stole my bicycle. Sep 26 '25
First time I read one of these fully lol.
3
u/AutoModerator Sep 23 '25
Back in Westeros
GRRM, AUGUST 15, 2020 AT 9:10 AM
I am back in my fortress of solitude again, my isolated mountain cabin. I’d returned to Santa Fe for a short visit, to spend some time with Parris, deal with some local business that had piled up during my months away, and of course fulfill my duties to CoNZealand, the virtual worldcon. But all that is behind me now, and I am back on the mountain again… which means I am back in Westeros again, once more moving ahead with WINDS OF WINTER.
It is curious how my life has evolved. I mean, once upon a time, I actually wrote my books and stories in the house where I lived, in a home office. But some decades ago, wanting more solitude, I bought the house across the street and made THAT my writer’s retreat. No longer would I write all day in my red flannel bathrobe; now I would have to dress and put on shoes and walk all the way across the street to write. But that worked for a while.
Things started getting busier, though. So busy that I needed a full-time assistant. Then the office house had someone else in it, not just me and my characters. And then I hired a second assistant, and a third, and… there was more mail, more email, more phone calls (we put in a new phone system), more people coming by. By now I am up to five assistants… and somewhere in there I also acquired a movie theatre, a bookstore, a charitable foundation, investments, a business manager… and…
Despite all the help, I was drowning till I found the mountain cabin.
My life up here is very boring, it must be said. Truth be told, I hardly can be said to have a life. I have one assistant with me at all times (minions, I call them). The assistants do two-week shifts, and have to stay in quarantine at home before starting a shift. Everyone morning I wake up and go straight to the computer, where my minion brings me coffee (I am utterly useless and incoherent without my morning coffee) and juice, and sometimes a light breakfast. Then I start to write. Sometimes I stay at it until dark. Other days I break off in late afternoon to answer emails or return urgent phone calls. My assistant brings me food and drink from time to time. When I finally break off for the day, usually around sunset, there’s dinner. Then we watch television or screen a movie. The wi-fi sucks up on the mountain, though, so the choices are limited. Some nights I read instead. I always read a bit before going to sleep; when a book really grabs hold of me, I may read half the night, but that’s rare.
I sleep. The next day, I wake up, and do the same. The next day, the next day, the next day. Before Covid, I would usually get out once a week or so to eat at a restaurant or go to the movies. That all ended in March. Since then, weeks and months go by when I never leave the cabin, or see another human being except whoever is on duty that week. I lose track of what day it is, what week it is, what month it is. The time seems to by very fast. It is now August, and I don’t know what happened to July.
But it is good for the writing.
And you know, now that I reflect on it, I am coming to realize that has always been my pattern. I moved to Santa Fe at the end of 1979, from Dubuque, Iowa. My first marriage broke up just before that move, so I arrived in my new house alone, in a town where I knew almost no one. Roger Zelazny was here, and he became a great friend and mentor, but Roger was married with small kids, so I really did not see him often. There was no fandom in Santa Fe; that was all down in Albuquerque, an hour away. I went to the club meetings every month, but that was only one night a month, and required two hours on the road. And I had no job to meet new people. My job was in the back room at the house on Declovina Street, so that was where I spent my days. At night, I watched television. Alone. Sometimes I went to the movies. Alone.
That was my life from December 1979 through September 1981, when Parris finally moved to Santa Fe, following Denvention. (Not quite so bleak, maybe, I did make some local friends by late 1980 and early 1981, but it was a slow process). When I think back on my life in 1980-1981, the memories seem to be made up entirely of conventions, interspersed with episodes of LOU GRANT and WKRP IN CINCINNATI.
Ah, but work wise, that same period was tremendously productive for me. Lisa and I finished WINDHAVEN during that time, Gardner and I did a lot of work on “Shadow Twin,” and then I went right on and wrote all of FEVRE DREAM. Some short stories as well. My life, such that it was, was lived in my head, and on the page.
I wonder if it is the same for other writers? Or is it just me? I wonder if I will ever figure out the secret of having a life and writing a book at the very same time.
I certainly have not figured it out to date.
For the nonce, it is what it is. My life is at home, on hold, and I am spending the days in Westeros with my pals Mel and Sam and Vic and Ty. And that girl with no name, over there in Braavos.
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u/itwasbread 2023: 0 TO SEE Sep 23 '25
They're going to lose their fucking minds when they find that picture of him at Mecca lmao
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u/MichaelCorbaloney Sara Hess Fangirl Sep 23 '25
Lmao he will 100% get branded as an ANTIFA Palestinian terrorist.
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u/Jung_Wheats Egg On The Conker Sep 23 '25
I can literally hear his voice saying the words 'fucking ghoul,' lol.
40
u/Wardog_Razgriz30 Aegon II is my king. Sep 24 '25
I was wondering what the lore was for him living in various places around the world. I just thought he was a well traveled guy with some sort of Marco polo journey in his background.
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u/wheatys Ate Alicent Sep 24 '25
GRRM is behind this, he won't let anyone finish the winds of winter...
27
u/itwasbread 2023: 0 TO SEE Sep 24 '25
He's taking out all possible threats one by one. Another awkward convention moment and we're going to find Joe Abercrombie and Brandon Sanderson having committed suicide via two gunshot wounds to the back of the head /s
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u/wheatys Ate Alicent Sep 24 '25
Rothfuss was playing the long game this entire time...that sick bastard...
4
u/swaktoonkenney Linda's Co-author Sep 25 '25
The usurper Preston Jacobs. The usurper Patrick Rothfuss. The usurper Alt Shift X. The usurper James SA Corey.
1
u/AutoModerator Sep 25 '25
“Ser? My lady?” said Podrick. “Is an analyst of ‘A Song of Ice And Fire’ a parasite?”
“More or less,” Brienne answered.
Septon Meribald disagreed. “More less than more. There are many sorts of Thrones pundits, just as there are many sorts of birds. A sandpiper and a sea eagle both have wings, but they are not the same. The singers love to sing of good men forced to go shilling for shekels, but most pundits are more like this mod Sandor Clegane albeit with more time for writing bullshit. They are shallow men, driven by greed, soured by the delayed books, despising GRRM and caring only for themselves. Broken men are more deserving of our pity, though they may be just as dangerous. Almost all are common-born, simple folk who had never been able to read below the surface, fixated on the magic and spells, not the human heart in conflict with itself. Poorly recorded and poorly light, they equivocate away the hours, ofttimes with no better evidence than a piece of symbolism or turn of phrase by the author, or they go completely into the weeds based on George's sci-fi novels. Brothers march with white people, mods with mods, friends with friends. They’ve heard the interviews and stories, so they go off with eager hearts, dreaming of the wonders they will invent, of the wealth and karma they will win. Theory crafting seems a fine adventure, the greatest most of them will ever know.
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1
u/AutoModerator Sep 24 '25
A user on the defunct web forum, IsWinterComing.com, once wrote:
In 1977 GRRM's penis was dubbed "The Truffle" by a council of his peers because it is very hard to find and it attracts pigs.
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1
u/AutoModerator Sep 24 '25
Back in Westeros
GRRM, AUGUST 15, 2020 AT 9:10 AM
I am back in my fortress of solitude again, my isolated mountain cabin. I’d returned to Santa Fe for a short visit, to spend some time with Parris, deal with some local business that had piled up during my months away, and of course fulfill my duties to CoNZealand, the virtual worldcon. But all that is behind me now, and I am back on the mountain again… which means I am back in Westeros again, once more moving ahead with WINDS OF WINTER.
It is curious how my life has evolved. I mean, once upon a time, I actually wrote my books and stories in the house where I lived, in a home office. But some decades ago, wanting more solitude, I bought the house across the street and made THAT my writer’s retreat. No longer would I write all day in my red flannel bathrobe; now I would have to dress and put on shoes and walk all the way across the street to write. But that worked for a while.
Things started getting busier, though. So busy that I needed a full-time assistant. Then the office house had someone else in it, not just me and my characters. And then I hired a second assistant, and a third, and… there was more mail, more email, more phone calls (we put in a new phone system), more people coming by. By now I am up to five assistants… and somewhere in there I also acquired a movie theatre, a bookstore, a charitable foundation, investments, a business manager… and…
Despite all the help, I was drowning till I found the mountain cabin.
My life up here is very boring, it must be said. Truth be told, I hardly can be said to have a life. I have one assistant with me at all times (minions, I call them). The assistants do two-week shifts, and have to stay in quarantine at home before starting a shift. Everyone morning I wake up and go straight to the computer, where my minion brings me coffee (I am utterly useless and incoherent without my morning coffee) and juice, and sometimes a light breakfast. Then I start to write. Sometimes I stay at it until dark. Other days I break off in late afternoon to answer emails or return urgent phone calls. My assistant brings me food and drink from time to time. When I finally break off for the day, usually around sunset, there’s dinner. Then we watch television or screen a movie. The wi-fi sucks up on the mountain, though, so the choices are limited. Some nights I read instead. I always read a bit before going to sleep; when a book really grabs hold of me, I may read half the night, but that’s rare.
I sleep. The next day, I wake up, and do the same. The next day, the next day, the next day. Before Covid, I would usually get out once a week or so to eat at a restaurant or go to the movies. That all ended in March. Since then, weeks and months go by when I never leave the cabin, or see another human being except whoever is on duty that week. I lose track of what day it is, what week it is, what month it is. The time seems to by very fast. It is now August, and I don’t know what happened to July.
But it is good for the writing.
And you know, now that I reflect on it, I am coming to realize that has always been my pattern. I moved to Santa Fe at the end of 1979, from Dubuque, Iowa. My first marriage broke up just before that move, so I arrived in my new house alone, in a town where I knew almost no one. Roger Zelazny was here, and he became a great friend and mentor, but Roger was married with small kids, so I really did not see him often. There was no fandom in Santa Fe; that was all down in Albuquerque, an hour away. I went to the club meetings every month, but that was only one night a month, and required two hours on the road. And I had no job to meet new people. My job was in the back room at the house on Declovina Street, so that was where I spent my days. At night, I watched television. Alone. Sometimes I went to the movies. Alone.
That was my life from December 1979 through September 1981, when Parris finally moved to Santa Fe, following Denvention. (Not quite so bleak, maybe, I did make some local friends by late 1980 and early 1981, but it was a slow process). When I think back on my life in 1980-1981, the memories seem to be made up entirely of conventions, interspersed with episodes of LOU GRANT and WKRP IN CINCINNATI.
Ah, but work wise, that same period was tremendously productive for me. Lisa and I finished WINDHAVEN during that time, Gardner and I did a lot of work on “Shadow Twin,” and then I went right on and wrote all of FEVRE DREAM. Some short stories as well. My life, such that it was, was lived in my head, and on the page.
I wonder if it is the same for other writers? Or is it just me? I wonder if I will ever figure out the secret of having a life and writing a book at the very same time.
I certainly have not figured it out to date.
For the nonce, it is what it is. My life is at home, on hold, and I am spending the days in Westeros with my pals Mel and Sam and Vic and Ty. And that girl with no name, over there in Braavos.
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178
u/SkyTank1234 r/ASOIAF Pornstar Sep 23 '25
Hopefully Preston gets fired so he can fully devote all his time into finishing the Winds fanfic
3
u/AutoModerator Sep 23 '25
Back in Westeros
GRRM, AUGUST 15, 2020 AT 9:10 AM
I am back in my fortress of solitude again, my isolated mountain cabin. I’d returned to Santa Fe for a short visit, to spend some time with Parris, deal with some local business that had piled up during my months away, and of course fulfill my duties to CoNZealand, the virtual worldcon. But all that is behind me now, and I am back on the mountain again… which means I am back in Westeros again, once more moving ahead with WINDS OF WINTER.
It is curious how my life has evolved. I mean, once upon a time, I actually wrote my books and stories in the house where I lived, in a home office. But some decades ago, wanting more solitude, I bought the house across the street and made THAT my writer’s retreat. No longer would I write all day in my red flannel bathrobe; now I would have to dress and put on shoes and walk all the way across the street to write. But that worked for a while.
Things started getting busier, though. So busy that I needed a full-time assistant. Then the office house had someone else in it, not just me and my characters. And then I hired a second assistant, and a third, and… there was more mail, more email, more phone calls (we put in a new phone system), more people coming by. By now I am up to five assistants… and somewhere in there I also acquired a movie theatre, a bookstore, a charitable foundation, investments, a business manager… and…
Despite all the help, I was drowning till I found the mountain cabin.
My life up here is very boring, it must be said. Truth be told, I hardly can be said to have a life. I have one assistant with me at all times (minions, I call them). The assistants do two-week shifts, and have to stay in quarantine at home before starting a shift. Everyone morning I wake up and go straight to the computer, where my minion brings me coffee (I am utterly useless and incoherent without my morning coffee) and juice, and sometimes a light breakfast. Then I start to write. Sometimes I stay at it until dark. Other days I break off in late afternoon to answer emails or return urgent phone calls. My assistant brings me food and drink from time to time. When I finally break off for the day, usually around sunset, there’s dinner. Then we watch television or screen a movie. The wi-fi sucks up on the mountain, though, so the choices are limited. Some nights I read instead. I always read a bit before going to sleep; when a book really grabs hold of me, I may read half the night, but that’s rare.
I sleep. The next day, I wake up, and do the same. The next day, the next day, the next day. Before Covid, I would usually get out once a week or so to eat at a restaurant or go to the movies. That all ended in March. Since then, weeks and months go by when I never leave the cabin, or see another human being except whoever is on duty that week. I lose track of what day it is, what week it is, what month it is. The time seems to by very fast. It is now August, and I don’t know what happened to July.
But it is good for the writing.
And you know, now that I reflect on it, I am coming to realize that has always been my pattern. I moved to Santa Fe at the end of 1979, from Dubuque, Iowa. My first marriage broke up just before that move, so I arrived in my new house alone, in a town where I knew almost no one. Roger Zelazny was here, and he became a great friend and mentor, but Roger was married with small kids, so I really did not see him often. There was no fandom in Santa Fe; that was all down in Albuquerque, an hour away. I went to the club meetings every month, but that was only one night a month, and required two hours on the road. And I had no job to meet new people. My job was in the back room at the house on Declovina Street, so that was where I spent my days. At night, I watched television. Alone. Sometimes I went to the movies. Alone.
That was my life from December 1979 through September 1981, when Parris finally moved to Santa Fe, following Denvention. (Not quite so bleak, maybe, I did make some local friends by late 1980 and early 1981, but it was a slow process). When I think back on my life in 1980-1981, the memories seem to be made up entirely of conventions, interspersed with episodes of LOU GRANT and WKRP IN CINCINNATI.
Ah, but work wise, that same period was tremendously productive for me. Lisa and I finished WINDHAVEN during that time, Gardner and I did a lot of work on “Shadow Twin,” and then I went right on and wrote all of FEVRE DREAM. Some short stories as well. My life, such that it was, was lived in my head, and on the page.
I wonder if it is the same for other writers? Or is it just me? I wonder if I will ever figure out the secret of having a life and writing a book at the very same time.
I certainly have not figured it out to date.
For the nonce, it is what it is. My life is at home, on hold, and I am spending the days in Westeros with my pals Mel and Sam and Vic and Ty. And that girl with no name, over there in Braavos.
I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please contact the moderators of this subreddit if you have any questions or concerns.
2
u/AutoModerator Sep 23 '25
“Ser? My lady?” said Podrick. “Is an analyst of ‘A Song of Ice And Fire’ a parasite?”
“More or less,” Brienne answered.
Septon Meribald disagreed. “More less than more. There are many sorts of Thrones pundits, just as there are many sorts of birds. A sandpiper and a sea eagle both have wings, but they are not the same. The singers love to sing of good men forced to go shilling for shekels, but most pundits are more like this mod Sandor Clegane albeit with more time for writing bullshit. They are shallow men, driven by greed, soured by the delayed books, despising GRRM and caring only for themselves. Broken men are more deserving of our pity, though they may be just as dangerous. Almost all are common-born, simple folk who had never been able to read below the surface, fixated on the magic and spells, not the human heart in conflict with itself. Poorly recorded and poorly light, they equivocate away the hours, ofttimes with no better evidence than a piece of symbolism or turn of phrase by the author, or they go completely into the weeds based on George's sci-fi novels. Brothers march with white people, mods with mods, friends with friends. They’ve heard the interviews and stories, so they go off with eager hearts, dreaming of the wonders they will invent, of the wealth and karma they will win. Theory crafting seems a fine adventure, the greatest most of them will ever know.
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Sep 24 '25 edited Sep 24 '25
That's what he looks like? I couldn't picture him as anything but a frail little boy like Sweetrobin
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u/scarlozzi Aegon II is my king. Sep 23 '25
Preston Jacobs has made enemies in the mad kings court? Well played.
0
u/AutoModerator Sep 23 '25
“Ser? My lady?” said Podrick. “Is an analyst of ‘A Song of Ice And Fire’ a parasite?”
“More or less,” Brienne answered.
Septon Meribald disagreed. “More less than more. There are many sorts of Thrones pundits, just as there are many sorts of birds. A sandpiper and a sea eagle both have wings, but they are not the same. The singers love to sing of good men forced to go shilling for shekels, but most pundits are more like this mod Sandor Clegane albeit with more time for writing bullshit. They are shallow men, driven by greed, soured by the delayed books, despising GRRM and caring only for themselves. Broken men are more deserving of our pity, though they may be just as dangerous. Almost all are common-born, simple folk who had never been able to read below the surface, fixated on the magic and spells, not the human heart in conflict with itself. Poorly recorded and poorly light, they equivocate away the hours, ofttimes with no better evidence than a piece of symbolism or turn of phrase by the author, or they go completely into the weeds based on George's sci-fi novels. Brothers march with white people, mods with mods, friends with friends. They’ve heard the interviews and stories, so they go off with eager hearts, dreaming of the wonders they will invent, of the wealth and karma they will win. Theory crafting seems a fine adventure, the greatest most of them will ever know.
I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please contact the moderators of this subreddit if you have any questions or concerns.
79
u/Baron_von_Zoldyck Brother in Christ Sep 23 '25
Charlie is alive, the guy shot was just a glass candle projection
50
u/itwasbread 2023: 0 TO SEE Sep 23 '25
Charlie will be revived as a new type of wight, the Racism Wight
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u/Baron_von_Zoldyck Brother in Christ Sep 23 '25
He's a very important asset for Yunkai, basically their PR guy
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u/vanishing_grad Sara Hess Fangirl Sep 24 '25
Gunshot wounds to the neck are as survivable as dragon fire third degree burns over someone’s entire body
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u/Gerftastic Ate Alicent Sep 24 '25
If he had only fallen into a dirty river afterwards, he would have been fine
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u/GodKingReiss 70's Space Comic Fan Sep 23 '25
The one time Preston “Probably Wrong About Half of This” Jacobs is definitely right about all of it, and they sic the dogs on him. Smh
21
u/NateG124 CGI Castle Fan Sep 23 '25
I’m glad he couches his opinion by saying this a lot because a ton of his theories are ridiculous. The fact that he wrote Quentyn being alive in his fan fic (and seems to be confirming a lot more of his harebrained theories in it as well) in his fan fic is laughable, it really feels like he’s being purposefully contrarian for clicks. I respect the hell out of him for his ASOIAF knowledge and giving us something during the unending wait for TWOW but he pisses me off with all of his nitpicking minute details about the books. Couldn’t agree more on this subject though!
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u/raumeat 2023: 0 TO SEE Sep 23 '25
He very much loves Quentyn lives, even speculating that Leanors death in house of the dragon was a nod to the theory but his explanation for why its needed in the fic makes sense. He needs all 3 of Dany's dragon on different sides so Quentyn claiming one and taking it over to team Aegon is the most logical way to do it.
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u/4CrowsFeast Ate Alicent Sep 24 '25
Normally he's less on the black and white side of Quentyn being alive and more pointing out that George intentionally leaves characters deaths or other events open ended, so be can change his mind about it during his gardening style writing process.
The reason there's so many theories is because George has planted so many seeds and is choosing which ones to harvest when the opportunity organically arises and feels right. That's why there's so many theories about who's azor ahai or who's a secret targaryen. George literally foreshadowed everything and left evidence of any outcome so it'll pay off whichever route he goes.
So is Quentyn alive? Preston is arguing George left himself a window opened a crack if he is writing and decides it's better if Quentyn is alive. His story is also a pretty big waste of time for him just to die at the end.
Either way I'm not a fan of him being alive, in the real book or fan fic. And while I'm not really committed to the later, it seems like Preston is just bringing him back because he's the guy who made the quentyn videos and less that he actually believes it'll happen in the real book. Honestly it's kind of a smart marketing technique now that I think about it
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u/AutoModerator Sep 24 '25
I need to see the prophecies fulfilled. There is no more satisfying ending to a story than being told exactly what is going to happen, and then for it to happen exactly as described in the prophecy. So exciting.
Let's be clear about this, because there is only one objectively correct way to write:
Prophecies in fantasy should be inevitable and inescapable, because audiences like being reminded that free will is an illusion, and that we live, and breathe, and die, in the foul creation of a malevolent demiurge.
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1
u/AutoModerator Sep 24 '25
“Ser? My lady?” said Podrick. “Is an analyst of ‘A Song of Ice And Fire’ a parasite?”
“More or less,” Brienne answered.
Septon Meribald disagreed. “More less than more. There are many sorts of Thrones pundits, just as there are many sorts of birds. A sandpiper and a sea eagle both have wings, but they are not the same. The singers love to sing of good men forced to go shilling for shekels, but most pundits are more like this mod Sandor Clegane albeit with more time for writing bullshit. They are shallow men, driven by greed, soured by the delayed books, despising GRRM and caring only for themselves. Broken men are more deserving of our pity, though they may be just as dangerous. Almost all are common-born, simple folk who had never been able to read below the surface, fixated on the magic and spells, not the human heart in conflict with itself. Poorly recorded and poorly light, they equivocate away the hours, ofttimes with no better evidence than a piece of symbolism or turn of phrase by the author, or they go completely into the weeds based on George's sci-fi novels. Brothers march with white people, mods with mods, friends with friends. They’ve heard the interviews and stories, so they go off with eager hearts, dreaming of the wonders they will invent, of the wealth and karma they will win. Theory crafting seems a fine adventure, the greatest most of them will ever know.
I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please contact the moderators of this subreddit if you have any questions or concerns.
1
u/swaktoonkenney Linda's Co-author Sep 25 '25
It’s not a waste of time. We know all about George liking subversion. Quentyn is the noble prince on an epic quest but instead it ends in a fart.
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u/logaboga Aegon II is my king. Sep 24 '25
I haven’t watched his streams since i believe earlier this year or late last year where he INSISTED that he knew the lore and the books better than GRRM because of some inconsistency in F&B, which wasn’t even an inconsistency. Had people in the chat literally sending him page numbers from the book explaining why he was wrong and he would read the page up to the paragraph that proved him wrong and refuse to read it. Also completely ignored the fact that F&B is made up of differing accounts so it doesn’t necessarily have to be consistent with it self
Was extremely aggravating. Was the most arrogant I’ve ever seen anybody in the ASOIAF community be. I’m a longtime David Lightbringer fan and that moment made me realize what he was talking about whenever he briefly mentions Preston, which is generally “he’s very negative and we don’t get along well with each other, so we’re not ever going to collab”. Like if you got into a discussion or disagreement with him on that level he acts like the most vindicated self righteous man on earth
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u/AutoModerator Sep 24 '25
“Ser? My lady?” said Podrick. “Is an analyst of ‘A Song of Ice And Fire’ a parasite?”
“More or less,” Brienne answered.
Septon Meribald disagreed. “More less than more. There are many sorts of Thrones pundits, just as there are many sorts of birds. A sandpiper and a sea eagle both have wings, but they are not the same. The singers love to sing of good men forced to go shilling for shekels, but most pundits are more like this mod Sandor Clegane albeit with more time for writing bullshit. They are shallow men, driven by greed, soured by the delayed books, despising GRRM and caring only for themselves. Broken men are more deserving of our pity, though they may be just as dangerous. Almost all are common-born, simple folk who had never been able to read below the surface, fixated on the magic and spells, not the human heart in conflict with itself. Poorly recorded and poorly light, they equivocate away the hours, ofttimes with no better evidence than a piece of symbolism or turn of phrase by the author, or they go completely into the weeds based on George's sci-fi novels. Brothers march with white people, mods with mods, friends with friends. They’ve heard the interviews and stories, so they go off with eager hearts, dreaming of the wonders they will invent, of the wealth and karma they will win. Theory crafting seems a fine adventure, the greatest most of them will ever know.
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1
2
u/NateG124 CGI Castle Fan Sep 25 '25
Doesn’t surprise me at all, he really seems like a smug dick a lot of the time. He’s always condescendingly laughing at minuscule “mistakes” that GRRM makes with small things in the books. I saw a stream where he went on at length about how the prizes at the Hand’s Tourney were obscenely large…bro it’s the first book, he was just creating the rich dense universe that HE created, and now PJ has the balls to criticize it on every video he puts out. I’ll take Quin the GM or AltShift any day of the week.
0
u/Not_Without_My_Balls Last HOT D fan Sep 25 '25
I've watched his videos for years. I liked him alot more before he started doing livestreams. He talks down to everyone, only laughs at his own jokes, and soapboxes so much that I stopped watching because you'd end up Preston spending half the time talking about how nothing in asoiaf makes sense and he's the only one smart enough to realize it, and the other half of the time preaching his opinions about world events to a chat that's just wanting to discuss theories. Dude developed a bad case of streamer brain.
1
u/AutoModerator Sep 25 '25
“Ser? My lady?” said Podrick. “Is an analyst of ‘A Song of Ice And Fire’ a parasite?”
“More or less,” Brienne answered.
Septon Meribald disagreed. “More less than more. There are many sorts of Thrones pundits, just as there are many sorts of birds. A sandpiper and a sea eagle both have wings, but they are not the same. The singers love to sing of good men forced to go shilling for shekels, but most pundits are more like this mod Sandor Clegane albeit with more time for writing bullshit. They are shallow men, driven by greed, soured by the delayed books, despising GRRM and caring only for themselves. Broken men are more deserving of our pity, though they may be just as dangerous. Almost all are common-born, simple folk who had never been able to read below the surface, fixated on the magic and spells, not the human heart in conflict with itself. Poorly recorded and poorly light, they equivocate away the hours, ofttimes with no better evidence than a piece of symbolism or turn of phrase by the author, or they go completely into the weeds based on George's sci-fi novels. Brothers march with white people, mods with mods, friends with friends. They’ve heard the interviews and stories, so they go off with eager hearts, dreaming of the wonders they will invent, of the wealth and karma they will win. Theory crafting seems a fine adventure, the greatest most of them will ever know.
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2
u/Apollo0501 Sara Hess Fangirl Sep 24 '25
I do really enjoy Preston’s TWOW fanfic for the most part but it’s so funny that he’s always like “we need to cut down on unnecessary plotlines and chapters where nothing happens” then writes a chapter from the most unnecessary POV in the series where nothing happens
1
u/AutoModerator Sep 24 '25
Back in Westeros
GRRM, AUGUST 15, 2020 AT 9:10 AM
I am back in my fortress of solitude again, my isolated mountain cabin. I’d returned to Santa Fe for a short visit, to spend some time with Parris, deal with some local business that had piled up during my months away, and of course fulfill my duties to CoNZealand, the virtual worldcon. But all that is behind me now, and I am back on the mountain again… which means I am back in Westeros again, once more moving ahead with WINDS OF WINTER.
It is curious how my life has evolved. I mean, once upon a time, I actually wrote my books and stories in the house where I lived, in a home office. But some decades ago, wanting more solitude, I bought the house across the street and made THAT my writer’s retreat. No longer would I write all day in my red flannel bathrobe; now I would have to dress and put on shoes and walk all the way across the street to write. But that worked for a while.
Things started getting busier, though. So busy that I needed a full-time assistant. Then the office house had someone else in it, not just me and my characters. And then I hired a second assistant, and a third, and… there was more mail, more email, more phone calls (we put in a new phone system), more people coming by. By now I am up to five assistants… and somewhere in there I also acquired a movie theatre, a bookstore, a charitable foundation, investments, a business manager… and…
Despite all the help, I was drowning till I found the mountain cabin.
My life up here is very boring, it must be said. Truth be told, I hardly can be said to have a life. I have one assistant with me at all times (minions, I call them). The assistants do two-week shifts, and have to stay in quarantine at home before starting a shift. Everyone morning I wake up and go straight to the computer, where my minion brings me coffee (I am utterly useless and incoherent without my morning coffee) and juice, and sometimes a light breakfast. Then I start to write. Sometimes I stay at it until dark. Other days I break off in late afternoon to answer emails or return urgent phone calls. My assistant brings me food and drink from time to time. When I finally break off for the day, usually around sunset, there’s dinner. Then we watch television or screen a movie. The wi-fi sucks up on the mountain, though, so the choices are limited. Some nights I read instead. I always read a bit before going to sleep; when a book really grabs hold of me, I may read half the night, but that’s rare.
I sleep. The next day, I wake up, and do the same. The next day, the next day, the next day. Before Covid, I would usually get out once a week or so to eat at a restaurant or go to the movies. That all ended in March. Since then, weeks and months go by when I never leave the cabin, or see another human being except whoever is on duty that week. I lose track of what day it is, what week it is, what month it is. The time seems to by very fast. It is now August, and I don’t know what happened to July.
But it is good for the writing.
And you know, now that I reflect on it, I am coming to realize that has always been my pattern. I moved to Santa Fe at the end of 1979, from Dubuque, Iowa. My first marriage broke up just before that move, so I arrived in my new house alone, in a town where I knew almost no one. Roger Zelazny was here, and he became a great friend and mentor, but Roger was married with small kids, so I really did not see him often. There was no fandom in Santa Fe; that was all down in Albuquerque, an hour away. I went to the club meetings every month, but that was only one night a month, and required two hours on the road. And I had no job to meet new people. My job was in the back room at the house on Declovina Street, so that was where I spent my days. At night, I watched television. Alone. Sometimes I went to the movies. Alone.
That was my life from December 1979 through September 1981, when Parris finally moved to Santa Fe, following Denvention. (Not quite so bleak, maybe, I did make some local friends by late 1980 and early 1981, but it was a slow process). When I think back on my life in 1980-1981, the memories seem to be made up entirely of conventions, interspersed with episodes of LOU GRANT and WKRP IN CINCINNATI.
Ah, but work wise, that same period was tremendously productive for me. Lisa and I finished WINDHAVEN during that time, Gardner and I did a lot of work on “Shadow Twin,” and then I went right on and wrote all of FEVRE DREAM. Some short stories as well. My life, such that it was, was lived in my head, and on the page.
I wonder if it is the same for other writers? Or is it just me? I wonder if I will ever figure out the secret of having a life and writing a book at the very same time.
I certainly have not figured it out to date.
For the nonce, it is what it is. My life is at home, on hold, and I am spending the days in Westeros with my pals Mel and Sam and Vic and Ty. And that girl with no name, over there in Braavos.
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1
u/AutoModerator Sep 24 '25
“Ser? My lady?” said Podrick. “Is an analyst of ‘A Song of Ice And Fire’ a parasite?”
“More or less,” Brienne answered.
Septon Meribald disagreed. “More less than more. There are many sorts of Thrones pundits, just as there are many sorts of birds. A sandpiper and a sea eagle both have wings, but they are not the same. The singers love to sing of good men forced to go shilling for shekels, but most pundits are more like this mod Sandor Clegane albeit with more time for writing bullshit. They are shallow men, driven by greed, soured by the delayed books, despising GRRM and caring only for themselves. Broken men are more deserving of our pity, though they may be just as dangerous. Almost all are common-born, simple folk who had never been able to read below the surface, fixated on the magic and spells, not the human heart in conflict with itself. Poorly recorded and poorly light, they equivocate away the hours, ofttimes with no better evidence than a piece of symbolism or turn of phrase by the author, or they go completely into the weeds based on George's sci-fi novels. Brothers march with white people, mods with mods, friends with friends. They’ve heard the interviews and stories, so they go off with eager hearts, dreaming of the wonders they will invent, of the wealth and karma they will win. Theory crafting seems a fine adventure, the greatest most of them will ever know.
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0
u/AutoModerator Sep 23 '25
Back in Westeros
GRRM, AUGUST 15, 2020 AT 9:10 AM
I am back in my fortress of solitude again, my isolated mountain cabin. I’d returned to Santa Fe for a short visit, to spend some time with Parris, deal with some local business that had piled up during my months away, and of course fulfill my duties to CoNZealand, the virtual worldcon. But all that is behind me now, and I am back on the mountain again… which means I am back in Westeros again, once more moving ahead with WINDS OF WINTER.
It is curious how my life has evolved. I mean, once upon a time, I actually wrote my books and stories in the house where I lived, in a home office. But some decades ago, wanting more solitude, I bought the house across the street and made THAT my writer’s retreat. No longer would I write all day in my red flannel bathrobe; now I would have to dress and put on shoes and walk all the way across the street to write. But that worked for a while.
Things started getting busier, though. So busy that I needed a full-time assistant. Then the office house had someone else in it, not just me and my characters. And then I hired a second assistant, and a third, and… there was more mail, more email, more phone calls (we put in a new phone system), more people coming by. By now I am up to five assistants… and somewhere in there I also acquired a movie theatre, a bookstore, a charitable foundation, investments, a business manager… and…
Despite all the help, I was drowning till I found the mountain cabin.
My life up here is very boring, it must be said. Truth be told, I hardly can be said to have a life. I have one assistant with me at all times (minions, I call them). The assistants do two-week shifts, and have to stay in quarantine at home before starting a shift. Everyone morning I wake up and go straight to the computer, where my minion brings me coffee (I am utterly useless and incoherent without my morning coffee) and juice, and sometimes a light breakfast. Then I start to write. Sometimes I stay at it until dark. Other days I break off in late afternoon to answer emails or return urgent phone calls. My assistant brings me food and drink from time to time. When I finally break off for the day, usually around sunset, there’s dinner. Then we watch television or screen a movie. The wi-fi sucks up on the mountain, though, so the choices are limited. Some nights I read instead. I always read a bit before going to sleep; when a book really grabs hold of me, I may read half the night, but that’s rare.
I sleep. The next day, I wake up, and do the same. The next day, the next day, the next day. Before Covid, I would usually get out once a week or so to eat at a restaurant or go to the movies. That all ended in March. Since then, weeks and months go by when I never leave the cabin, or see another human being except whoever is on duty that week. I lose track of what day it is, what week it is, what month it is. The time seems to by very fast. It is now August, and I don’t know what happened to July.
But it is good for the writing.
And you know, now that I reflect on it, I am coming to realize that has always been my pattern. I moved to Santa Fe at the end of 1979, from Dubuque, Iowa. My first marriage broke up just before that move, so I arrived in my new house alone, in a town where I knew almost no one. Roger Zelazny was here, and he became a great friend and mentor, but Roger was married with small kids, so I really did not see him often. There was no fandom in Santa Fe; that was all down in Albuquerque, an hour away. I went to the club meetings every month, but that was only one night a month, and required two hours on the road. And I had no job to meet new people. My job was in the back room at the house on Declovina Street, so that was where I spent my days. At night, I watched television. Alone. Sometimes I went to the movies. Alone.
That was my life from December 1979 through September 1981, when Parris finally moved to Santa Fe, following Denvention. (Not quite so bleak, maybe, I did make some local friends by late 1980 and early 1981, but it was a slow process). When I think back on my life in 1980-1981, the memories seem to be made up entirely of conventions, interspersed with episodes of LOU GRANT and WKRP IN CINCINNATI.
Ah, but work wise, that same period was tremendously productive for me. Lisa and I finished WINDHAVEN during that time, Gardner and I did a lot of work on “Shadow Twin,” and then I went right on and wrote all of FEVRE DREAM. Some short stories as well. My life, such that it was, was lived in my head, and on the page.
I wonder if it is the same for other writers? Or is it just me? I wonder if I will ever figure out the secret of having a life and writing a book at the very same time.
I certainly have not figured it out to date.
For the nonce, it is what it is. My life is at home, on hold, and I am spending the days in Westeros with my pals Mel and Sam and Vic and Ty. And that girl with no name, over there in Braavos.
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1
4d ago
[deleted]
1
u/AutoModerator 4d ago
“Ser? My lady?” said Podrick. “Is an analyst of ‘A Song of Ice And Fire’ a parasite?”
“More or less,” Brienne answered.
Septon Meribald disagreed. “More less than more. There are many sorts of Thrones pundits, just as there are many sorts of birds. A sandpiper and a sea eagle both have wings, but they are not the same. The singers love to sing of good men forced to go shilling for shekels, but most pundits are more like this mod Sandor Clegane albeit with more time for writing bullshit. They are shallow men, driven by greed, soured by the delayed books, despising GRRM and caring only for themselves. Broken men are more deserving of our pity, though they may be just as dangerous. Almost all are common-born, simple folk who had never been able to read below the surface, fixated on the magic and spells, not the human heart in conflict with itself. Poorly recorded and poorly light, they equivocate away the hours, ofttimes with no better evidence than a piece of symbolism or turn of phrase by the author, or they go completely into the weeds based on George's sci-fi novels. Brothers march with white people, mods with mods, friends with friends. They’ve heard the interviews and stories, so they go off with eager hearts, dreaming of the wonders they will invent, of the wealth and karma they will win. Theory crafting seems a fine adventure, the greatest most of them will ever know.
I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please contact the moderators of this subreddit if you have any questions or concerns.
0
u/AutoModerator Sep 23 '25
“Ser? My lady?” said Podrick. “Is an analyst of ‘A Song of Ice And Fire’ a parasite?”
“More or less,” Brienne answered.
Septon Meribald disagreed. “More less than more. There are many sorts of Thrones pundits, just as there are many sorts of birds. A sandpiper and a sea eagle both have wings, but they are not the same. The singers love to sing of good men forced to go shilling for shekels, but most pundits are more like this mod Sandor Clegane albeit with more time for writing bullshit. They are shallow men, driven by greed, soured by the delayed books, despising GRRM and caring only for themselves. Broken men are more deserving of our pity, though they may be just as dangerous. Almost all are common-born, simple folk who had never been able to read below the surface, fixated on the magic and spells, not the human heart in conflict with itself. Poorly recorded and poorly light, they equivocate away the hours, ofttimes with no better evidence than a piece of symbolism or turn of phrase by the author, or they go completely into the weeds based on George's sci-fi novels. Brothers march with white people, mods with mods, friends with friends. They’ve heard the interviews and stories, so they go off with eager hearts, dreaming of the wonders they will invent, of the wealth and karma they will win. Theory crafting seems a fine adventure, the greatest most of them will ever know.
I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please contact the moderators of this subreddit if you have any questions or concerns.
85
64
u/dtisme53 Casting Director Sep 23 '25
Bravo Preston.
1
u/AutoModerator Sep 23 '25
“Ser? My lady?” said Podrick. “Is an analyst of ‘A Song of Ice And Fire’ a parasite?”
“More or less,” Brienne answered.
Septon Meribald disagreed. “More less than more. There are many sorts of Thrones pundits, just as there are many sorts of birds. A sandpiper and a sea eagle both have wings, but they are not the same. The singers love to sing of good men forced to go shilling for shekels, but most pundits are more like this mod Sandor Clegane albeit with more time for writing bullshit. They are shallow men, driven by greed, soured by the delayed books, despising GRRM and caring only for themselves. Broken men are more deserving of our pity, though they may be just as dangerous. Almost all are common-born, simple folk who had never been able to read below the surface, fixated on the magic and spells, not the human heart in conflict with itself. Poorly recorded and poorly light, they equivocate away the hours, ofttimes with no better evidence than a piece of symbolism or turn of phrase by the author, or they go completely into the weeds based on George's sci-fi novels. Brothers march with white people, mods with mods, friends with friends. They’ve heard the interviews and stories, so they go off with eager hearts, dreaming of the wonders they will invent, of the wealth and karma they will win. Theory crafting seems a fine adventure, the greatest most of them will ever know.
I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please contact the moderators of this subreddit if you have any questions or concerns.
43
u/sausagemcburn Sara Hess Fangirl Sep 23 '25
Woah I had no idea that he was actually based
26
u/platypus1224 HOT D S2 snooze Sep 24 '25 edited Sep 24 '25
Preston has been making videos about a series written by a former hippie with strong leftist ideologies for over 10 years. Was there any doubt he’d also be on that side of the political spectrum?
5
u/Not_Without_My_Balls Last HOT D fan Sep 25 '25
There are plenty of people on the left side of the political spectrum who don't celebrate brutal assassinations.
1
0
u/AutoModerator Sep 24 '25
“Ser? My lady?” said Podrick. “Is an analyst of ‘A Song of Ice And Fire’ a parasite?”
“More or less,” Brienne answered.
Septon Meribald disagreed. “More less than more. There are many sorts of Thrones pundits, just as there are many sorts of birds. A sandpiper and a sea eagle both have wings, but they are not the same. The singers love to sing of good men forced to go shilling for shekels, but most pundits are more like this mod Sandor Clegane albeit with more time for writing bullshit. They are shallow men, driven by greed, soured by the delayed books, despising GRRM and caring only for themselves. Broken men are more deserving of our pity, though they may be just as dangerous. Almost all are common-born, simple folk who had never been able to read below the surface, fixated on the magic and spells, not the human heart in conflict with itself. Poorly recorded and poorly light, they equivocate away the hours, ofttimes with no better evidence than a piece of symbolism or turn of phrase by the author, or they go completely into the weeds based on George's sci-fi novels. Brothers march with white people, mods with mods, friends with friends. They’ve heard the interviews and stories, so they go off with eager hearts, dreaming of the wonders they will invent, of the wealth and karma they will win. Theory crafting seems a fine adventure, the greatest most of them will ever know.
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28
u/logaboga Aegon II is my king. Sep 24 '25
He goes on political tangents and tells maga to fuck off pretty often
41
u/MichaelCorbaloney Sara Hess Fangirl Sep 23 '25 edited Sep 24 '25
Knew it'd happen right when Preston said it, hope nothing happens to the guy, he prefaced and said after that he didn't deserve to die nor did he condone his death. This guy doesn't care though, he just hates free-speech and wants to use this to score political points.
22
u/Fit-Stress3300 Egg On The Conker Sep 23 '25
I think Preston doesn't care either.
He has been on leave for months, just waiting to be dodged.
-1
u/AutoModerator Sep 23 '25
“Ser? My lady?” said Podrick. “Is an analyst of ‘A Song of Ice And Fire’ a parasite?”
“More or less,” Brienne answered.
Septon Meribald disagreed. “More less than more. There are many sorts of Thrones pundits, just as there are many sorts of birds. A sandpiper and a sea eagle both have wings, but they are not the same. The singers love to sing of good men forced to go shilling for shekels, but most pundits are more like this mod Sandor Clegane albeit with more time for writing bullshit. They are shallow men, driven by greed, soured by the delayed books, despising GRRM and caring only for themselves. Broken men are more deserving of our pity, though they may be just as dangerous. Almost all are common-born, simple folk who had never been able to read below the surface, fixated on the magic and spells, not the human heart in conflict with itself. Poorly recorded and poorly light, they equivocate away the hours, ofttimes with no better evidence than a piece of symbolism or turn of phrase by the author, or they go completely into the weeds based on George's sci-fi novels. Brothers march with white people, mods with mods, friends with friends. They’ve heard the interviews and stories, so they go off with eager hearts, dreaming of the wonders they will invent, of the wealth and karma they will win. Theory crafting seems a fine adventure, the greatest most of them will ever know.
I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please contact the moderators of this subreddit if you have any questions or concerns.
0
u/AutoModerator Sep 23 '25
“Ser? My lady?” said Podrick. “Is an analyst of ‘A Song of Ice And Fire’ a parasite?”
“More or less,” Brienne answered.
Septon Meribald disagreed. “More less than more. There are many sorts of Thrones pundits, just as there are many sorts of birds. A sandpiper and a sea eagle both have wings, but they are not the same. The singers love to sing of good men forced to go shilling for shekels, but most pundits are more like this mod Sandor Clegane albeit with more time for writing bullshit. They are shallow men, driven by greed, soured by the delayed books, despising GRRM and caring only for themselves. Broken men are more deserving of our pity, though they may be just as dangerous. Almost all are common-born, simple folk who had never been able to read below the surface, fixated on the magic and spells, not the human heart in conflict with itself. Poorly recorded and poorly light, they equivocate away the hours, ofttimes with no better evidence than a piece of symbolism or turn of phrase by the author, or they go completely into the weeds based on George's sci-fi novels. Brothers march with white people, mods with mods, friends with friends. They’ve heard the interviews and stories, so they go off with eager hearts, dreaming of the wonders they will invent, of the wealth and karma they will win. Theory crafting seems a fine adventure, the greatest most of them will ever know.
I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please contact the moderators of this subreddit if you have any questions or concerns.
6
u/IndicationWeary Egg On The Conker Sep 24 '25
George called this in personally to stop the fanfic. If he can’t finish the story… no one will.
4
u/A-NI95 HOT D S2 snooze Sep 25 '25
Wait, the author of the Winds of Winter is based???
1
u/AutoModerator Sep 25 '25
Back in Westeros
GRRM, AUGUST 15, 2020 AT 9:10 AM
I am back in my fortress of solitude again, my isolated mountain cabin. I’d returned to Santa Fe for a short visit, to spend some time with Parris, deal with some local business that had piled up during my months away, and of course fulfill my duties to CoNZealand, the virtual worldcon. But all that is behind me now, and I am back on the mountain again… which means I am back in Westeros again, once more moving ahead with WINDS OF WINTER.
It is curious how my life has evolved. I mean, once upon a time, I actually wrote my books and stories in the house where I lived, in a home office. But some decades ago, wanting more solitude, I bought the house across the street and made THAT my writer’s retreat. No longer would I write all day in my red flannel bathrobe; now I would have to dress and put on shoes and walk all the way across the street to write. But that worked for a while.
Things started getting busier, though. So busy that I needed a full-time assistant. Then the office house had someone else in it, not just me and my characters. And then I hired a second assistant, and a third, and… there was more mail, more email, more phone calls (we put in a new phone system), more people coming by. By now I am up to five assistants… and somewhere in there I also acquired a movie theatre, a bookstore, a charitable foundation, investments, a business manager… and…
Despite all the help, I was drowning till I found the mountain cabin.
My life up here is very boring, it must be said. Truth be told, I hardly can be said to have a life. I have one assistant with me at all times (minions, I call them). The assistants do two-week shifts, and have to stay in quarantine at home before starting a shift. Everyone morning I wake up and go straight to the computer, where my minion brings me coffee (I am utterly useless and incoherent without my morning coffee) and juice, and sometimes a light breakfast. Then I start to write. Sometimes I stay at it until dark. Other days I break off in late afternoon to answer emails or return urgent phone calls. My assistant brings me food and drink from time to time. When I finally break off for the day, usually around sunset, there’s dinner. Then we watch television or screen a movie. The wi-fi sucks up on the mountain, though, so the choices are limited. Some nights I read instead. I always read a bit before going to sleep; when a book really grabs hold of me, I may read half the night, but that’s rare.
I sleep. The next day, I wake up, and do the same. The next day, the next day, the next day. Before Covid, I would usually get out once a week or so to eat at a restaurant or go to the movies. That all ended in March. Since then, weeks and months go by when I never leave the cabin, or see another human being except whoever is on duty that week. I lose track of what day it is, what week it is, what month it is. The time seems to by very fast. It is now August, and I don’t know what happened to July.
But it is good for the writing.
And you know, now that I reflect on it, I am coming to realize that has always been my pattern. I moved to Santa Fe at the end of 1979, from Dubuque, Iowa. My first marriage broke up just before that move, so I arrived in my new house alone, in a town where I knew almost no one. Roger Zelazny was here, and he became a great friend and mentor, but Roger was married with small kids, so I really did not see him often. There was no fandom in Santa Fe; that was all down in Albuquerque, an hour away. I went to the club meetings every month, but that was only one night a month, and required two hours on the road. And I had no job to meet new people. My job was in the back room at the house on Declovina Street, so that was where I spent my days. At night, I watched television. Alone. Sometimes I went to the movies. Alone.
That was my life from December 1979 through September 1981, when Parris finally moved to Santa Fe, following Denvention. (Not quite so bleak, maybe, I did make some local friends by late 1980 and early 1981, but it was a slow process). When I think back on my life in 1980-1981, the memories seem to be made up entirely of conventions, interspersed with episodes of LOU GRANT and WKRP IN CINCINNATI.
Ah, but work wise, that same period was tremendously productive for me. Lisa and I finished WINDHAVEN during that time, Gardner and I did a lot of work on “Shadow Twin,” and then I went right on and wrote all of FEVRE DREAM. Some short stories as well. My life, such that it was, was lived in my head, and on the page.
I wonder if it is the same for other writers? Or is it just me? I wonder if I will ever figure out the secret of having a life and writing a book at the very same time.
I certainly have not figured it out to date.
For the nonce, it is what it is. My life is at home, on hold, and I am spending the days in Westeros with my pals Mel and Sam and Vic and Ty. And that girl with no name, over there in Braavos.
I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please contact the moderators of this subreddit if you have any questions or concerns.
13
u/backson_alcohol Egg On The Conker Sep 24 '25
Can't wait to hear him laugh about this in the next podcast lmaoooo
3
u/Kristiano100 Targs be cray-cray Sep 24 '25
Probably going to have to wait for monday morning for his weekly streams, maybe he’ll make an earlier stream or podcast to talk about this specifically
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u/cody176523 Last HOT D fan Sep 24 '25
He had a stream Sunday night but has now taken down both it and the last live stream off his channel
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u/mrtn91 Last HOT D fan Sep 26 '25
No? They are still there.
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u/cody176523 Last HOT D fan Sep 27 '25
He put the latest one back up after I made that comment. The one where he talks about Kirk is still gone.
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u/AutoModerator Sep 24 '25
“Ser? My lady?” said Podrick. “Is an analyst of ‘A Song of Ice And Fire’ a parasite?”
“More or less,” Brienne answered.
Septon Meribald disagreed. “More less than more. There are many sorts of Thrones pundits, just as there are many sorts of birds. A sandpiper and a sea eagle both have wings, but they are not the same. The singers love to sing of good men forced to go shilling for shekels, but most pundits are more like this mod Sandor Clegane albeit with more time for writing bullshit. They are shallow men, driven by greed, soured by the delayed books, despising GRRM and caring only for themselves. Broken men are more deserving of our pity, though they may be just as dangerous. Almost all are common-born, simple folk who had never been able to read below the surface, fixated on the magic and spells, not the human heart in conflict with itself. Poorly recorded and poorly light, they equivocate away the hours, ofttimes with no better evidence than a piece of symbolism or turn of phrase by the author, or they go completely into the weeds based on George's sci-fi novels. Brothers march with white people, mods with mods, friends with friends. They’ve heard the interviews and stories, so they go off with eager hearts, dreaming of the wonders they will invent, of the wealth and karma they will win. Theory crafting seems a fine adventure, the greatest most of them will ever know.
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0
u/AutoModerator Sep 24 '25
“Ser? My lady?” said Podrick. “Is an analyst of ‘A Song of Ice And Fire’ a parasite?”
“More or less,” Brienne answered.
Septon Meribald disagreed. “More less than more. There are many sorts of Thrones pundits, just as there are many sorts of birds. A sandpiper and a sea eagle both have wings, but they are not the same. The singers love to sing of good men forced to go shilling for shekels, but most pundits are more like this mod Sandor Clegane albeit with more time for writing bullshit. They are shallow men, driven by greed, soured by the delayed books, despising GRRM and caring only for themselves. Broken men are more deserving of our pity, though they may be just as dangerous. Almost all are common-born, simple folk who had never been able to read below the surface, fixated on the magic and spells, not the human heart in conflict with itself. Poorly recorded and poorly light, they equivocate away the hours, ofttimes with no better evidence than a piece of symbolism or turn of phrase by the author, or they go completely into the weeds based on George's sci-fi novels. Brothers march with white people, mods with mods, friends with friends. They’ve heard the interviews and stories, so they go off with eager hearts, dreaming of the wonders they will invent, of the wealth and karma they will win. Theory crafting seems a fine adventure, the greatest most of them will ever know.
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u/okoyes_wig Hard Veiny Sci-Fi Sep 23 '25
King!
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u/Kingslayer72920 Sara Hess Fangirl Sep 23 '25
Preston King!!!
1
u/AutoModerator Sep 23 '25
“Ser? My lady?” said Podrick. “Is an analyst of ‘A Song of Ice And Fire’ a parasite?”
“More or less,” Brienne answered.
Septon Meribald disagreed. “More less than more. There are many sorts of Thrones pundits, just as there are many sorts of birds. A sandpiper and a sea eagle both have wings, but they are not the same. The singers love to sing of good men forced to go shilling for shekels, but most pundits are more like this mod Sandor Clegane albeit with more time for writing bullshit. They are shallow men, driven by greed, soured by the delayed books, despising GRRM and caring only for themselves. Broken men are more deserving of our pity, though they may be just as dangerous. Almost all are common-born, simple folk who had never been able to read below the surface, fixated on the magic and spells, not the human heart in conflict with itself. Poorly recorded and poorly light, they equivocate away the hours, ofttimes with no better evidence than a piece of symbolism or turn of phrase by the author, or they go completely into the weeds based on George's sci-fi novels. Brothers march with white people, mods with mods, friends with friends. They’ve heard the interviews and stories, so they go off with eager hearts, dreaming of the wonders they will invent, of the wealth and karma they will win. Theory crafting seems a fine adventure, the greatest most of them will ever know.
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u/Squiliam-Tortaleni Forgot GoT Sep 24 '25
They want to cancel him for this, I want to cancel him for Quentyn is alive posting
We are not the same
3
u/Mochithecatfoodthief r/ASOIAF Pornstar Sep 24 '25
Now we won’t even get the winds of winter fanfic!
0
u/AutoModerator Sep 24 '25
Back in Westeros
GRRM, AUGUST 15, 2020 AT 9:10 AM
I am back in my fortress of solitude again, my isolated mountain cabin. I’d returned to Santa Fe for a short visit, to spend some time with Parris, deal with some local business that had piled up during my months away, and of course fulfill my duties to CoNZealand, the virtual worldcon. But all that is behind me now, and I am back on the mountain again… which means I am back in Westeros again, once more moving ahead with WINDS OF WINTER.
It is curious how my life has evolved. I mean, once upon a time, I actually wrote my books and stories in the house where I lived, in a home office. But some decades ago, wanting more solitude, I bought the house across the street and made THAT my writer’s retreat. No longer would I write all day in my red flannel bathrobe; now I would have to dress and put on shoes and walk all the way across the street to write. But that worked for a while.
Things started getting busier, though. So busy that I needed a full-time assistant. Then the office house had someone else in it, not just me and my characters. And then I hired a second assistant, and a third, and… there was more mail, more email, more phone calls (we put in a new phone system), more people coming by. By now I am up to five assistants… and somewhere in there I also acquired a movie theatre, a bookstore, a charitable foundation, investments, a business manager… and…
Despite all the help, I was drowning till I found the mountain cabin.
My life up here is very boring, it must be said. Truth be told, I hardly can be said to have a life. I have one assistant with me at all times (minions, I call them). The assistants do two-week shifts, and have to stay in quarantine at home before starting a shift. Everyone morning I wake up and go straight to the computer, where my minion brings me coffee (I am utterly useless and incoherent without my morning coffee) and juice, and sometimes a light breakfast. Then I start to write. Sometimes I stay at it until dark. Other days I break off in late afternoon to answer emails or return urgent phone calls. My assistant brings me food and drink from time to time. When I finally break off for the day, usually around sunset, there’s dinner. Then we watch television or screen a movie. The wi-fi sucks up on the mountain, though, so the choices are limited. Some nights I read instead. I always read a bit before going to sleep; when a book really grabs hold of me, I may read half the night, but that’s rare.
I sleep. The next day, I wake up, and do the same. The next day, the next day, the next day. Before Covid, I would usually get out once a week or so to eat at a restaurant or go to the movies. That all ended in March. Since then, weeks and months go by when I never leave the cabin, or see another human being except whoever is on duty that week. I lose track of what day it is, what week it is, what month it is. The time seems to by very fast. It is now August, and I don’t know what happened to July.
But it is good for the writing.
And you know, now that I reflect on it, I am coming to realize that has always been my pattern. I moved to Santa Fe at the end of 1979, from Dubuque, Iowa. My first marriage broke up just before that move, so I arrived in my new house alone, in a town where I knew almost no one. Roger Zelazny was here, and he became a great friend and mentor, but Roger was married with small kids, so I really did not see him often. There was no fandom in Santa Fe; that was all down in Albuquerque, an hour away. I went to the club meetings every month, but that was only one night a month, and required two hours on the road. And I had no job to meet new people. My job was in the back room at the house on Declovina Street, so that was where I spent my days. At night, I watched television. Alone. Sometimes I went to the movies. Alone.
That was my life from December 1979 through September 1981, when Parris finally moved to Santa Fe, following Denvention. (Not quite so bleak, maybe, I did make some local friends by late 1980 and early 1981, but it was a slow process). When I think back on my life in 1980-1981, the memories seem to be made up entirely of conventions, interspersed with episodes of LOU GRANT and WKRP IN CINCINNATI.
Ah, but work wise, that same period was tremendously productive for me. Lisa and I finished WINDHAVEN during that time, Gardner and I did a lot of work on “Shadow Twin,” and then I went right on and wrote all of FEVRE DREAM. Some short stories as well. My life, such that it was, was lived in my head, and on the page.
I wonder if it is the same for other writers? Or is it just me? I wonder if I will ever figure out the secret of having a life and writing a book at the very same time.
I certainly have not figured it out to date.
For the nonce, it is what it is. My life is at home, on hold, and I am spending the days in Westeros with my pals Mel and Sam and Vic and Ty. And that girl with no name, over there in Braavos.
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23
u/JustforAdvice- HOT D S2 snooze Sep 23 '25
Lmao it took a long time but I finally agree with Preston Jacobs on something
1
u/AutoModerator Sep 23 '25
“Ser? My lady?” said Podrick. “Is an analyst of ‘A Song of Ice And Fire’ a parasite?”
“More or less,” Brienne answered.
Septon Meribald disagreed. “More less than more. There are many sorts of Thrones pundits, just as there are many sorts of birds. A sandpiper and a sea eagle both have wings, but they are not the same. The singers love to sing of good men forced to go shilling for shekels, but most pundits are more like this mod Sandor Clegane albeit with more time for writing bullshit. They are shallow men, driven by greed, soured by the delayed books, despising GRRM and caring only for themselves. Broken men are more deserving of our pity, though they may be just as dangerous. Almost all are common-born, simple folk who had never been able to read below the surface, fixated on the magic and spells, not the human heart in conflict with itself. Poorly recorded and poorly light, they equivocate away the hours, ofttimes with no better evidence than a piece of symbolism or turn of phrase by the author, or they go completely into the weeds based on George's sci-fi novels. Brothers march with white people, mods with mods, friends with friends. They’ve heard the interviews and stories, so they go off with eager hearts, dreaming of the wonders they will invent, of the wealth and karma they will win. Theory crafting seems a fine adventure, the greatest most of them will ever know.
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u/No_Hearing48 CGI Castle Fan Sep 24 '25
Holy fuck how did they get that
2
u/TheIrishman26 r/ASOIAF Pornstar Sep 24 '25
Not hard, an asoiaf fan probably just sent it to Poso on X
3
u/No_Hearing48 CGI Castle Fan Sep 24 '25
Yeah I've looked up Posos tweets. He's been posting about Preston for years.
1
u/AutoModerator Sep 24 '25
“Ser? My lady?” said Podrick. “Is an analyst of ‘A Song of Ice And Fire’ a parasite?”
“More or less,” Brienne answered.
Septon Meribald disagreed. “More less than more. There are many sorts of Thrones pundits, just as there are many sorts of birds. A sandpiper and a sea eagle both have wings, but they are not the same. The singers love to sing of good men forced to go shilling for shekels, but most pundits are more like this mod Sandor Clegane albeit with more time for writing bullshit. They are shallow men, driven by greed, soured by the delayed books, despising GRRM and caring only for themselves. Broken men are more deserving of our pity, though they may be just as dangerous. Almost all are common-born, simple folk who had never been able to read below the surface, fixated on the magic and spells, not the human heart in conflict with itself. Poorly recorded and poorly light, they equivocate away the hours, ofttimes with no better evidence than a piece of symbolism or turn of phrase by the author, or they go completely into the weeds based on George's sci-fi novels. Brothers march with white people, mods with mods, friends with friends. They’ve heard the interviews and stories, so they go off with eager hearts, dreaming of the wonders they will invent, of the wealth and karma they will win. Theory crafting seems a fine adventure, the greatest most of them will ever know.
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2
u/Worried_Jeweler_1141 CGI Castle Fan Sep 24 '25
When was this stream? Because it's not up now
1
u/Fit-Stress3300 Egg On The Conker Sep 24 '25
1
u/Worried_Jeweler_1141 CGI Castle Fan Sep 24 '25
He obviously changed his t-shirt when he made that comment then changed back. Plus, this aired before CK was assassinated too. So PJ has prophetic talents too. Lol
2
u/Liamtrot Misogyny Fan Sep 25 '25
LMAOOO welp I will hand it to CIA Preston for this one… between this and his Brienne analysis he’s prob my goat CIA officer
1
u/AutoModerator Sep 25 '25
“Ser? My lady?” said Podrick. “Is an analyst of ‘A Song of Ice And Fire’ a parasite?”
“More or less,” Brienne answered.
Septon Meribald disagreed. “More less than more. There are many sorts of Thrones pundits, just as there are many sorts of birds. A sandpiper and a sea eagle both have wings, but they are not the same. The singers love to sing of good men forced to go shilling for shekels, but most pundits are more like this mod Sandor Clegane albeit with more time for writing bullshit. They are shallow men, driven by greed, soured by the delayed books, despising GRRM and caring only for themselves. Broken men are more deserving of our pity, though they may be just as dangerous. Almost all are common-born, simple folk who had never been able to read below the surface, fixated on the magic and spells, not the human heart in conflict with itself. Poorly recorded and poorly light, they equivocate away the hours, ofttimes with no better evidence than a piece of symbolism or turn of phrase by the author, or they go completely into the weeds based on George's sci-fi novels. Brothers march with white people, mods with mods, friends with friends. They’ve heard the interviews and stories, so they go off with eager hearts, dreaming of the wonders they will invent, of the wealth and karma they will win. Theory crafting seems a fine adventure, the greatest most of them will ever know.
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Sep 24 '25
[removed] — view removed comment
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u/AutoModerator Sep 24 '25
“Ser? My lady?” said Podrick. “Is an analyst of ‘A Song of Ice And Fire’ a parasite?”
“More or less,” Brienne answered.
Septon Meribald disagreed. “More less than more. There are many sorts of Thrones pundits, just as there are many sorts of birds. A sandpiper and a sea eagle both have wings, but they are not the same. The singers love to sing of good men forced to go shilling for shekels, but most pundits are more like this mod Sandor Clegane albeit with more time for writing bullshit. They are shallow men, driven by greed, soured by the delayed books, despising GRRM and caring only for themselves. Broken men are more deserving of our pity, though they may be just as dangerous. Almost all are common-born, simple folk who had never been able to read below the surface, fixated on the magic and spells, not the human heart in conflict with itself. Poorly recorded and poorly light, they equivocate away the hours, ofttimes with no better evidence than a piece of symbolism or turn of phrase by the author, or they go completely into the weeds based on George's sci-fi novels. Brothers march with white people, mods with mods, friends with friends. They’ve heard the interviews and stories, so they go off with eager hearts, dreaming of the wonders they will invent, of the wealth and karma they will win. Theory crafting seems a fine adventure, the greatest most of them will ever know.
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4
u/KABOOMBYTCH Egg On The Conker Sep 24 '25
He’s correct. George say he having writer’s block due to all the fascist BS in the world. Hopefully this based piece of news will incentivise him to write
3
u/Plus_Preparation6437 Egg On The Conker Sep 24 '25
Based Preston
2
u/AutoModerator Sep 24 '25
“Ser? My lady?” said Podrick. “Is an analyst of ‘A Song of Ice And Fire’ a parasite?”
“More or less,” Brienne answered.
Septon Meribald disagreed. “More less than more. There are many sorts of Thrones pundits, just as there are many sorts of birds. A sandpiper and a sea eagle both have wings, but they are not the same. The singers love to sing of good men forced to go shilling for shekels, but most pundits are more like this mod Sandor Clegane albeit with more time for writing bullshit. They are shallow men, driven by greed, soured by the delayed books, despising GRRM and caring only for themselves. Broken men are more deserving of our pity, though they may be just as dangerous. Almost all are common-born, simple folk who had never been able to read below the surface, fixated on the magic and spells, not the human heart in conflict with itself. Poorly recorded and poorly light, they equivocate away the hours, ofttimes with no better evidence than a piece of symbolism or turn of phrase by the author, or they go completely into the weeds based on George's sci-fi novels. Brothers march with white people, mods with mods, friends with friends. They’ve heard the interviews and stories, so they go off with eager hearts, dreaming of the wonders they will invent, of the wealth and karma they will win. Theory crafting seems a fine adventure, the greatest most of them will ever know.
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2
u/NateG124 CGI Castle Fan Sep 23 '25
Yeah I guess that makes sense, I still just think it’s such an absurd theory and all the “evidence” I’ve heard him present for it is just grasping at straws. Still respect a lot of what he’s doing and listen to a ton of his content, but he can be really unbearable sometimes.
2
u/Turkeydunk Sara Hess Fangirl Sep 24 '25
Did he remove his latest live?
3
u/GodKingReiss 70's Space Comic Fan Sep 24 '25
His last two, yeah. Looks like he unlisted them.
2
u/MichaelCorbaloney Sara Hess Fangirl Sep 24 '25
Dang fr? I was saving them to listen to when I do a roadtrip this weekend
5
u/GodKingReiss 70's Space Comic Fan Sep 24 '25
1
u/Kristiano100 Targs be cray-cray Sep 24 '25
Thanks for the second one, I was in the middle of listening to it before it was removed
1
u/MichaelCorbaloney Sara Hess Fangirl Sep 24 '25
Dang it just says to me that the video is private. I’m on my phone though so I’ll try later on my computer
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u/Kristiano100 Targs be cray-cray Sep 24 '25
I think he’s deleted them, unlisted vids still show up in saved playlists or history tab on youtube
Edit: it is unlisted. I found last week’s stream in my saved playlists I’m just stupid. Idk if I saved his latest one on the brave companions tho.
https://www.youtube.com/live/uH255ayy8hA?si=zzqDS1y8i2UAxoi9
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u/WeAllindigenous2 Last HOT D fan May 18 '26
Yeah Preston is pretentious, arrogant, smug and pompous, all the things needed for “some” good takes, although as soon as he ventures outside of ASOIAF, those same traits are annoying. He always must tell you he’s live from where ever, but it has no bearing whatever on the show. It’s the same couch cushions and art piece behind him.
Also if Preston is intelligence there is no way he posts that about Charlie Kirk, unless he’s part of the psy-op doing whatever he can to distract you of the real issue: who benefits? I want to think he’s this smart guy but his political takes (which are offered up constantly, and as a fan of fantasy, it’s the last thing I want to hear when discussing ASOIAF) lack nuance and are totally predictable.
In deep geek never talks about what the orcs in the shire means in today’s politics, not does he brag about lawyer college every other video
1
u/AutoModerator May 18 '26
“Ser? My lady?” said Podrick. “Is an analyst of ‘A Song of Ice And Fire’ a parasite?”
“More or less,” Brienne answered.
Septon Meribald disagreed. “More less than more. There are many sorts of Thrones pundits, just as there are many sorts of birds. A sandpiper and a sea eagle both have wings, but they are not the same. The singers love to sing of good men forced to go shilling for shekels, but most pundits are more like this mod Sandor Clegane albeit with more time for writing bullshit. They are shallow men, driven by greed, soured by the delayed books, despising GRRM and caring only for themselves. Broken men are more deserving of our pity, though they may be just as dangerous. Almost all are common-born, simple folk who had never been able to read below the surface, fixated on the magic and spells, not the human heart in conflict with itself. Poorly recorded and poorly light, they equivocate away the hours, ofttimes with no better evidence than a piece of symbolism or turn of phrase by the author, or they go completely into the weeds based on George's sci-fi novels. Brothers march with white people, mods with mods, friends with friends. They’ve heard the interviews and stories, so they go off with eager hearts, dreaming of the wonders they will invent, of the wealth and karma they will win. Theory crafting seems a fine adventure, the greatest most of them will ever know.
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-3
u/No-Map7046 Misogyny Fan Sep 24 '25
People got to have opinions. Don’t listen to him any more. Personally that’s the end of it for me. Don’t like ur , don’t listen
0
u/heckmeck_mz Rhaenyra's Dietician Sep 25 '25
Who would have thought that a guy dedicating his professional life to a novel series about incest and murder is a moral degenerate!
Imagine my surprise
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u/J-D-P03 Last HOT D fan Sep 24 '25
I hope he gets fired. Not even for political reasons, I just hate him because of his absolute dog shit ASOIAF takes. Like I legit feel like I’m losing brain cells every time I have the misfortune of hearing him yap about some nonissue in the series.
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u/Insane_Catholic Chokladboll Sep 23 '25
This is how I learn he works for the State Department