WIRED Book Club just wrapped up their readthrough of The Name of the Wind and to cap off their introduction into The Kingkiller Chronicles, they have interviewed author Patrick Rothfuss about his writing process, magic systems, and why he considers his first draft such a “hot mess.”
Perhaps the most inspiring bit for writers is Rothfuss’ admission that it took 15 years to shape his first novel from an initial draft into the addictive magical romp we love. A lot of personal growth and work went into crafting The Name of the Wind.
When discussing the first draft of The Name of the Wind, Rothfuss explained to WIRED that “Science has no scale to measure the hotness of that mess.” His ideal going into the book was to create “something a little new and a little different. But at the same time, I wanted it to be familiar and warm and exciting in nostalgic ways.” This was already a challenging balance to strike, and as he finished the first draft he realized that striving for that balance produced a story that seemed disconnected from itself.
I had no idea what I was doing in terms of structuring a story. I put words together fine. I could write dialog and scene. I could even make an interesting chapter. But a book is so much more than a series of interesting chapters. And that’s what it took me a fucking decade to figure out.
These early struggles of learning to inject more tension into the book “made [Rothfuss’] life a hell for 15 years.” As he worked he also had to learn to write beyond his own experience. WIRED asked him about writing the character of Denna in particular:
The truth is, Denna has always been the hardest character to bring into this book. Part of that is because I started writing it in ’94 when I was, like, a 20-year-old straight white boy. To say that I didn’t understand women is a vast understatement—and also implies that I understand what it’s like to exist as a woman now, which is also not the case. The other part is that, narratively, she’s the one thing that Kvothe can’t opine on in an objective way. It’s so hard. I’ve made mistakes all over, but if I have a genuine failure in this book, it’s my lack of ability to do with Denna as much as I wish I could have.
Rothfuss also notes that The Name of the Wind underwent such a radical reworking over the course of those 15 years that main story threads vital to the novel, such as Auri, Devi, and the mystery of the school archives, were barely present in the initial draft. “There was no Devi in the early books. There was so much that wasn’t in those initial drafts, simply because I had no idea what I was doing in terms of structuring a story.”
Experienced fantasy readers may be surprised to learn that while the story constantly shifted and morphed, the sympathetic magic system in Rothfuss’ Kingkiller Chronicles has remained stable thanks to its scientific underpinnings:
It’s hard to get more scientific [than sympathy]. I literally have the math for a lot of these things. I have run the numbers about how much heat it takes for this and that, and accounting for slippage, or whatever. I can look at my chalkboard here and see all of the delta calculations for how much energy it takes to boil gold. So I do the math…Once I explain that framework to you, if my characters are clever using the framework, then you can appreciate their cleverness at a different depth, and it’s very satisfying. You cannot get that same satisfaction in a world that does not have a cohesive, understandable, and explicit system.
The secondary magic system in the series, Naming, is a bit more… hand wavy, but Rothfuss has put just as much consideration into it as he has for sympathy:
Well, for one, it’s super hard to actually do the math and have a cohesive system that actually bears up under the scrutiny of intelligent readers. Two, you miss one of the other things that magic has to offer in a story, and that is a sense of delight and wonder. Sympathy is many things, but it’s usually not wondrous. You never get true shock and amazement. So I wanted both. I wanted my cake and to eat it, too. On the other end of the spectrum is magic the art of which cannot be explained.
Finally, WIRED asked my favorite question: who makes it into the coveted Author’s Favorite Character spot?
Auri will always be very close to my heart. Elodin is also a treat. But it does change, and sometimes a character I really start out liking gets on my nerves—because it’s hard to keep writing them, and then they piss me off and I end up liking them less. In some ways, it’s harder to like Kvothe, both as a writer and, I suspect, as a reader. It’s way easier to be infatuated with somebody than to be in a long-term relationship with them.
In addition to specific answers about his books, Rothfuss also had a more free-ranging discussion of how his life as a writer differs from the mythology of what it is to be a writer. He emphasizes the hard work it takes, and talks about bad habits and laziness that people can fall into as they’re starting out. It’s especially interesting to hear his take on slowly drafting an epic story. Rather than dwelling on his initial inspiration, or talking about writing workshops, Rothfuss gives the sense that he simply wrote and wrote and re-wrote, painstakingly learning his craft with each new draft.
Because Rothfuss was willing to take the time to dig in and retool these drafts, he was able to create a great work of fantasy. You can (and should) read the whole interview over at WIRED – there’s a treasure trove of fun facts for Rothfuss fans, and some great advice for writers.
And it is such a shame that people don’t consider the amount of work that Pat puts into his books when they complain about his speed. As it says in The Forbidden Kingdom, “must taste bitter before taste sweet.
Cool. So about 10 more years to get Doors of Stone then?
I fully support Pat taking whatever time he needs to write the book he wants to write.
I fully support Pat taking on other endeavors and enjoying some daily down time.
If he were to post a yearly status update on Book 3, I think his impatient fans would ease up a bit.. All anyone knows is that he may have started writing it and he’s probably not done yet.
If writing is that hard, you’re doing it wrong.
I wrote ‘The Court of the Air’ in 12 months and had so much fun doing it, it felt like only a couple of weeks had passed.
Mr. Hunt, I am happy for you. But you lead me to believe you don’t know very much about writing based on that comment, your own experience notwithstanding. You would dismiss the work of many great writers (Gustave Flaubert occurs to me, off-hand) on the basis of how much care and time they take over their craft. I can’t draw comparison between Mr Flaubert and Mr Rothfuss (I haven’t read Mr Rothfuss), but devotion to just the right word or phrase, devotion to producing art, is not “doing it wrong”. Speed is good, adequate, for receiving a paycheque but perhaps not the legacy or influence an author may want to strive for. Exceptions, again (Dickens).
@5 while @4’s response was rather flippant, yours is really no better.
Some authors are fast AND good. In the same way that some painters naturally excel at facets like composition, color palette, technique, I’m sure there are many writers who excel at prose, world building, plotting, etc, without having to devote a lot of time or headspace to it. Also, time invested does not implicitly mean good art.
I’d prefer an author who is fast and brilliant, but brilliant alone works too. Which Rothfuss is. And I may complain about the wait, but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate his work, or his effort. I think we’d all be better off (authors included) if you just take the complaints as compliments–people want to read your work so bad they just can’t wait!
I think we agree that speed is not a pre-determinant of quality (it was the “doing it right” comment that rubbed me wrong, I make no assumption that Mr. Hunt wrote something poor). There are the fast-and-good authors like the Dickens exception I already cited, at least in his early years. And there’s our current champion example in genre, Brandon Sanderson, who sets an almost inhuman pace at producing quality prose. While at the same time there’s GRRM, whose work is just as good while producing it at the other end of the speed scale.
The thing is, with Rothfuss and Martin, they are not serious writers. I’m aware of the things they get up to from reading their blogs. I would estimate that either one only spends 50% or less of their time actually writing. Rothfuss said recently that he didn’t write a word for 6 months when he met his girlfriend. They are very busy with the fandom they created but not with actual writing.
Plus I think Rothfuss is scared. There was a longer than expected wait for Wise Man’s Fear and it received mediocre reviews. What was the extra time for? It certainly didn’t improve the quality.
@7. cecrow
I thoroughly enjoy Sanderson’s books and will be buying each of the Stormlight Archive in hardback. That said, Rothfuss’s writing is in a different class from Sanderson’s. Sanderson excels at ideas, and his books are awesome, but go to Goodreads and compare the favorite quotes from his books with quotes from Rothfuss’s and you’ll see what I mean.
It’s true that the fastest output requires the greatest dedication and time commitment. It’s also true that slower writers are not necessarily putting in the same daily hours. Maybe the words don’t some to them so easily, they don’t have the same confidence, never developed the focus, etc. I would never assume laziness. Maybe they are perfectionists who can’t rush the process without a lot of thought in between sessions. That creates downtime that needs to be filled. Writing for other projects is a great way to do that, keeping the writing muscle sharp. Or raising enormous amounts for charity. And sometimes life events will happen, whether it’s romance or health (e.g. Scott Lynch), that can interrupt even the most productive writer’s habits.
Re. Rothfuss, we’ll never know whether it improved the quality or not without reading his original draft. Rewrites are often based on editorial feedback, and we might trust the editor’s opinion that it needed more work. It could have been worse, maybe much worse.