Fantasy author George R.R. Martin has finally reveals why
work on his signature Song of Ice and
Fire fantasy series is taking so long. In an exclusive exclusive, he reveals the truth. Exclusively:
George R.R. RoboCop's first experimentation with cybernetics was only a modest success.
The truth is, I finished The
Winds of Winter three months ago. Not only that, but I had the whole last
book mapped out and ready to go. I was just about to send the titanic manuscript
to my editor when, as so often happens on deadline day, a massive rip in the
fabric of the space/time continuum formed in my office.
I heard this voice cry out “STAY THY HAND” and a figure
emerged. He was dressed in leather over high-yield body armour, with his left
arm replaced by some kind of laser minigun. He also had a magnificent and
well-kept beard. With a shock, I realised I was looking at myself, only
transformed into a Terminator-style cyborg from some kind of alternate timeline.
I had to admit that I looked kind of badass.
“GEORGE!” cried the other me. “I have some come from some
kind of alternate timeline where you have become a Terminator-style cyborg.” “Aha!”
I said. The other me continued: “You must not publish The Winds of Winter! That is where it all started going wrong.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “Many millions of fans are
waiting for this book. You would ask me to deny them?”
“Yes!”
The alterno-George went on to explain that for many years
the Earth had been scrutinised by a hostile alien race known as the Litmongers.
They had planned to invade the Earth and lay waste to human civilisation before
summoning their dark god Cthulhu to unleash a millennium of pain and torment
upon the survivors.
“Wait, Cthulhu is real?” I said, both horrified and impressed.
“Sort of. The Litmongers are great readers of human
literature, particularly speculative fiction, and so created a malevolent
entity modelled on the works of Lovecraft, which they use to subdue worlds.”
As RoboMartin continued to explain, at great length - with
enjoyable-but-unconcise tangents into the aliens’ complex caste structure, heraldry
and dietary preferences - the Litmongers had been poised to invade Earth in the
summer of 1996 but one of their number had stumbled across a copy of A Game of Thrones. The cruel aliens had
been so gripped by my expertly-crafted narrative of feuding kingdoms and subtly-complex-yet-relatable
human characters (“So venomous they could eat the Borgias” – SFX Magazine) that they had stayed their
hand, waiting for the series to conclude. Their patience had been worn thin by
the wait for later books in the series, their arguments about whether to invade
Earth and plunge seven billion souls into horrific torment or wait a bit longer
to find out who Jon Snow’s dad was spilling over and manifesting themselves in
bitter flame wars on the human internet.
“So I have to keep writing Song of Ice and Fire novels forever to keep humanity safe from
utter obliteration?” I asked, feeling both the despair of art being subsumed by
commercial requirements but also the financial security that comes from having
a reliable income stream. “I’m not sure my fans will buy that. Well, not all of
them.”
“Indeed!” said the Other Me. “In my timeline, after publishing
The Winds of Winter the Litmonger
faction that favoured invasion finally won the argument, after a particularly
punishing online debate over the twist that Jon Snow is capable of time travel
and is in fact his own father.”
“What?” I cried. “That was a tremendous, well-foreshadowed
revelation. I was very disappointed they went in a different direction on the
TV show.”
“Anyway,” said the Alternative Bearded One, moving hurriedly
on. “The Litmongers invaded in full force, sweeping across the globe in a tidal
wave of terror before finally triumphing. Even the mighty forces of the
American military under President Sanders were unable to stop them.”
Clearly there were other changes between our timelines. But now
the full weight of the horror wrought upon that world struck me. “So there was
no hope? No victories to speak of?”
“Well, the Litmongers destroyed the United States from west
to east, so technically the Giants won the NFL that year by dint of the other
teams all being driven insane before being immolated ahead of them.” Ah, almost
worth it. We fistbumped.
“So what can I do?”
“Stall! The Litmongers have a limited time before they must
return to their own world through hyperspace, after which it will be millennia
before they can regroup and return. After another (indeterminate) you can publish The Winds of Winter safely, without it resulting in the utter
ruination of lifekind as we know it.”
“Very well.” I knew with a heavy heart that this was the way
it would have to be.
“Also, that storyline you ditched where Melisandre imbued
Stannis with the power of R’hllor and turned him into the Human Torch? Do that,
that was awesome.”
Alterno-GRRM again tore open a hole between realities, ready
to return to the hellscape that had been his homeworld. “Wait!” I cried. “You
do not have to live your life in that terrible place, you can stay here and
survive in peace.”
“A tempting offer. Tell me, are there any other changes
between our realities?”
After explaining our changed political situation, MechaMartin
considered a moment, whilst the tormented shrieks of uncounted legions lost
beyond all hope seeped through the gate behind him.
“Well, sometimes the devil you know, eh?” he finally
concluded, before stepping through the portal and shutting it behind him.
So there you have it, loyal readers. The Winds of Winter can only be published when doing so would not
result in the extinction of humanity, and that time will be goto 50%%%%*$$$&…
6 comments:
FAKE NEWS
Seems legit
Not the Litmongers!!!
I love Werts yearly april fools joke. My personal favorite was the report that Michael Bay was hired to direct/produce a film adaption of Gene Wolf's Book of New Sun series. Sadly I believed the article untill I was mostly done reading it.
That really is a fantastic picture of George
Yeah, I think Martin is going to delay until he perishes or the world does.
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