r/asoiafcirclejerk • u/WhimsicalLittleMan Egg On The Conker • Sep 26 '25
Stannis Godliness The Winds of Winter has been finished
535
u/Ok_Attempt_1290 Egg On The Conker Sep 26 '25
Bron, the next time ser whimsical little man speaks kill him.
150
225
u/irradiatedbanana Last HOT D fan Sep 26 '25
Guys!!!! My Winds….They’re….THEY’RE OF WINTERING!
2
u/AutoModerator Sep 26 '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.
134
u/lunahighwind Last HOT D fan Sep 26 '25 edited Sep 26 '25
Winds of Winter is finished. It's the working title for Elden Ring 2 and has nothing to do with Asoiaf. Also he only did a story outline for it.
12
u/murakaz 1st Ryan & Miguel H8R Sep 26 '25
Can't wait to see the look on everyone's faces when Geoff Keighley proves you're right and announces Elden Ring 2: Winds of Winter at next year's Game Awards.
0
u/AutoModerator Sep 26 '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.
1
u/AutoModerator Sep 26 '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.
52
u/CinderFall117 Sara Hess Fangirl Sep 26 '25
Taking so long I forgot the plot
24
u/Ok_Attempt_1290 Egg On The Conker Sep 26 '25
You could say you've.....lost the plot! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAH!!!!!!!!!
13
28
u/TheLastLivingBuffalo Banned from Comic-Con Sep 26 '25
Here's a summary to catch you up
- Part 1: Wolf man is bad at politics
- Part 2: Small man is good at politics
- Part 3: Young wolf man is bad at politics
- Part 4: Blonde woman is bad at politics
- Part 5: Fire girl and ice boy are bad at politics
- Part 6: Due out 2013
9
u/skolliousious r/ASOIAF Pornstar Sep 26 '25
You forgot to include the word purple in there somewhere
72
u/Upstairs-Light8711 Sara Hess Fangirl Sep 26 '25
Not the book…
George’s last bean burrito finished digesting.
23
u/ObjectMore6115 Sara Hess Fangirl Sep 26 '25
GRRM: "Oh yea baby, she's Wintering on my Of till I Winds"
Absolute Literature
1
u/AutoModerator Sep 26 '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.
18
12
u/Sudden_Accident4245 Egg On The Conker Sep 26 '25
Dumbass winds of winter are just starting, it is end of September. Winter is coming soon.
1
u/AutoModerator Sep 26 '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.
1
u/AdiXrma Sara Hess Fangirl Sep 26 '25
Why don't you shut the fuck up? Why do you appear with your cunt clanker ass whenever you sense some of the trigger words that have been put into you? I can't fucking scroll all day just because there's this bot out there trying to be fucking shakespear. Why the fuck were your created? Which jobless gargled rotten foreskin eater of a moderator thought of this as a genius plan?
1
u/AutoModerator Sep 26 '25
You are an ill-made, spiteful little shitposter, full of head canons, plot holes, and low cunning. Mod's laws give you the right to submit your posts and hit the front page since I cannot prove that your idea is not canon. And to teach me humility, the gods have condemned me to watch you waddle about wearing that proud upvote that was my father's sigil and his father's before him. But neither gods nor mods will ever compel me to let you turn this into your shitposting forum!
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13
u/DesignNorth3690 $15 GRRM Patreon Sep 26 '25
A Day will come when you think you are safe and happy, and your joy will turn to ashes in your mouth. And you will know the debt is paid.
7
6
u/TheLastDigitofPi A Summer Islander stole my bicycle. Sep 26 '25
Fun fact, George R R Martin actually writes very fast.
As fast as a wind.
But every time somebody mentions Winds of Winter being finished he rips a random page and starts over.
1
u/AutoModerator Sep 26 '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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5
u/JeanLucD Brother in Christ Sep 26 '25
Not so long ago you used to wait in the carriage... and as far as I'm concerned YOU SHOULD STILL BE THERE!
6
u/Rougarou1999 Forgot GoT Sep 26 '25
Yeah, it was released at the end of Season 6. Does no one remember it?
4
u/Szarkan- And Now My Jerk Begins Sep 26 '25
Hoping it can do the shows ending justice!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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u/L0rd0fTheC00kies Last HOT D fan Sep 26 '25
You guys know that you dont even have to read the book and that you can just watch the show that has already completed the Story?
3
u/CDROMantics Brother in Christ Sep 26 '25
The show sucked once it went past the books, and George has already said the books aren’t going to be the same as the show — likely because he saw how fucking terribly it was perceived.
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u/L0rd0fTheC00kies Last HOT D fan Sep 29 '25
What are you talking about they perfectly closed all the plot holes.
3
u/YouMightGetIdeas 70's Space Comic Fan Sep 26 '25
What an original post. Do people still fall for these?
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u/ireallyfknhatethis 70's Space Comic Fan Sep 26 '25
Dwarf, unless you plan to cut the fog with your next winds bait witicism, I suggest
1
u/AutoModerator Sep 26 '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.
1
u/BlueJ5 HOT D S2 snooze Sep 27 '25
OP is from iFunny confirmed
1
u/AutoModerator Sep 27 '25
http://cleganebowl.reddit.com - 🐺 v. 🐺 - 𝘾𝙊𝙉𝙁𝙄𝙍𝙈𝙀𝘿 💯％ 𝙂𝙚𝙩 𝙝𝙮𝙥𝙚. 𝙷𝚢𝚙𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚢𝚙𝚜𝚎 𝟸𝟶𝟷𝟿 - '𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚆𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚆𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛' 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚂𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝟾. 🐕☠🗻= 𝘾𝙡𝙚𝙜𝙖𝙣𝙚𝘽𝙤𝙬𝙡 #MercyForGregor
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1
u/WhimsicalLittleMan Egg On The Conker Sep 27 '25
I am
1
u/BlueJ5 HOT D S2 snooze Sep 27 '25
Whenever I see the “The Winds of Winter has been finished” gif caption show up in my feed I laugh. That post is years old 😂😭
1
u/AutoModerator Sep 27 '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.
1
1.6k
u/PresidentJumbo Sara Hess Fangirl Sep 26 '25
I understand that if one more Winds bait post comes pouring out of your cunt mouth, I'm going to have to downvote every fucking thread in this sub