I am back in my fortress of solitude again, my isolated mountain cabin.\u00a0\u00a0 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.\u00a0\u00a0 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.<\/p>\n
It is curious how my life has evolved.\u00a0 I mean, once upon a time, I actually wrote my books and stories in the house where I lived, in a home office.\u00a0\u00a0 But some decades ago, wanting more solitude, I bought the house across the street and made THAT my writer’s retreat.\u00a0\u00a0 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.\u00a0 But that worked for a while.<\/p>\n
Things started getting busier, though.\u00a0\u00a0 So busy that I needed a full-time assistant.\u00a0\u00a0 Then the office house had someone else in it, not just me and my characters.\u00a0\u00a0 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.\u00a0\u00a0 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…<\/p>\n
Despite all the help, I was drowning till I found the mountain cabin.<\/p>\n
My life up here is very boring, it must be said.\u00a0 Truth be told, I hardly can be said to have a life.\u00a0\u00a0 I have one assistant with me at all times (minions, I call them).\u00a0 The assistants do two-week shifts, and have to stay in quarantine at home before starting a shift.\u00a0\u00a0 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.\u00a0 Then I start to write.\u00a0\u00a0 Sometimes I stay at it until dark.\u00a0\u00a0 Other days I break off in late afternoon to answer emails or return urgent phone calls.\u00a0\u00a0 My assistant brings me food and drink from time to time.\u00a0\u00a0 When I finally break off for the day, usually around sunset, there’s dinner.\u00a0\u00a0 Then we watch television or screen a movie.\u00a0 The wi-fi sucks up on the mountain, though, so the choices are limited.\u00a0\u00a0 Some nights I read instead.\u00a0\u00a0 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.<\/p>\n
I sleep.\u00a0 The next day, I wake up, and do the same.\u00a0 The next day, the next day, the next day.\u00a0\u00a0 Before Covid, I would usually get out once a week or so to eat at a restaurant or go to the movies.\u00a0\u00a0 That all ended in March.\u00a0\u00a0 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.\u00a0 I lose track of what day it is, what week it is, what month it is.\u00a0\u00a0 The time seems to by very fast.\u00a0\u00a0 It is now August, and I don’t know what happened to July.<\/p>\n
But it is good for the writing.<\/p>\n
And you know, now that I reflect on it, I am coming to realize that has always been my pattern.\u00a0\u00a0 I moved to Santa Fe at the end of 1979, from Dubuque, Iowa.\u00a0\u00a0 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.\u00a0\u00a0 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.\u00a0\u00a0 There was no fandom in Santa Fe; that was all down in Albuquerque, an hour away.\u00a0 I went to the club meetings every month, but that was only one night a month, and required two hours on the road.\u00a0\u00a0 And I had no job to meet new people.\u00a0\u00a0 My job was in the back room at the house on Declovina Street, so that was where I spent my days.\u00a0 At night, I watched television.\u00a0\u00a0 Alone.\u00a0\u00a0 Sometimes I went to the movies.\u00a0\u00a0 Alone.<\/p>\n
That was my life from December 1979 through September 1981, when Parris finally moved to Santa Fe, following Denvention.\u00a0\u00a0 (Not quite so bleak, maybe, I did make some local friends by late 1980 and early 1981, but it was a slow process).\u00a0\u00a0 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.<\/p>\n
Ah, but work wise, that same period was tremendously productive for me.\u00a0\u00a0 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.\u00a0\u00a0 Some short stories as well.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 My life, such that it was, was lived in my head, and on the page.<\/p>\n
I wonder if it is the same for other writers?\u00a0\u00a0 Or is it just me?\u00a0\u00a0 I wonder if I will ever figure out the secret of having a life and writing a book at the very same time.<\/em><\/p>\n I certainly have not figured it out to date.<\/p>\n For the nonce, it is what it is. \u00a0 My life is at home, on hold, and I am spending the days in Westeros with my pals Mel and Sam and Vic and\u00a0 Ty.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 And that girl with no name, over there in Braavos.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I am back in my fortress of solitude again, my isolated mountain cabin.\u00a0\u00a0 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.\u00a0\u00a0 But all that […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[50,19],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/georgerrmartin.com\/notablog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6403"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/georgerrmartin.com\/notablog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/georgerrmartin.com\/notablog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/georgerrmartin.com\/notablog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/georgerrmartin.com\/notablog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=6403"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"https:\/\/georgerrmartin.com\/notablog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6403\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6409,"href":"https:\/\/georgerrmartin.com\/notablog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6403\/revisions\/6409"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/georgerrmartin.com\/notablog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=6403"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/georgerrmartin.com\/notablog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=6403"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/georgerrmartin.com\/notablog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=6403"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}