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George R.R. Martin is Only Fooling Himself at This Point
We will never see another book
If you chase two hares, you will not catch either one.
~ Russian proverb
Last week Hollywood Reporter reported that George R.R. Martin, author of the series upon which HBO’s Game of Thrones is based, inked a mid-eight figures deal with the network. The deal lasts five years and will reimburse Martin for working on five projects set in the world of Game of Thrones (yes, five projects… even for a hardcore fan like myself, that’s a lot of fucking projects for one universe).
Martin is also developing two non-Game of Thrones projects for HBO, a television show for Peacock, and a feature film. Nine projects in all, meant for one screen or the other.
Forget two rabbits – George is running after nine! And that doesn’t include the books. Face meet palm.
At this point you would be excused for forgetting Martin is an author. Or at least he used to be – these days he prefers producing. Is there a statute of limitations on how long you can call yourself a writer without actually writing?
For long suffering fans of the books, this is all business as usual. He took six years to write the fifth book in the series, A Dance with Dragons. That book was published in 2011, the same year Game of Thrones premiered. He has been working on the sixth book for nearly ten years, with no end in sight.
Of course, “working on it” is the procrastinators way of saying they’re doing anything but. (I speak from personal experience.) And certainly Martin has been writing, but it’s clear he’s also been distracted by the fruits of his deserved success: money, accolades, new projects.
The crazy thing is that Martin remains publicly convinced he’ll finish not just book six, but the seventh and final book too. He surely has private reservations, unless he’s completely delusional.
I am a big fan of Martin. He is a wonderful writer, the kind who brings a certain poetry to the prose. Yes, Brandon Sanderson is ridiculously prolific, but he also writes like he’s trying to put out multiple books every year; Sanderson considers his style invisible in that it doesn’t call attention to itself, but in practice it is ugly in its plainness. He’s the James Patterson of Fantasy. If you are going to bother writing something, why not make it as beautiful as you can?
Patrick Rothfuss is another literary fantasist – his stuff is even prettier than Martin’s – who also has been putting off the next book in his fantasy series in favor of Other Things; I guess I have a type: chubby bearded procrastinators.
Martin will turn 73 this year. That means he’ll be nearly 78 when his deal runs out and he’ll (maybe) have time to focus solely on the books again. But approaching 80, will he still have the will? Or would he rather live out his days in comfort, without the distractions of work?
And make no mistake about it – Martin considers writing work.
Some writers enjoy writing, I am told. Not me. I enjoy having written. ~ George R.R. Martin
Martin has always enjoyed the fruits of his labor much more than the labor itself. It’s no wonder he takes on new (non-writing) projects and squanders time like a much younger man – it’s what he’s wanted all along. The ability to revel in what he’s already done.
He may contend that the books are still a priority, that he is still working on them, but his actions speak far louder than his words. Nobody is buying that BS any more. It makes you wonder if his platitudes are meant for us or for himself.
I like to write. You like to read. Let’s be friends.
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