My friends often inform me that my life is a sitcom. If that is the case, then I have a bone to pick with the writers.
Olive here. I did not intend for everyone’s first impression of me to be of a rage filled tirade against an innocent piece of electronic paper. However, that is the way the proverbial cookie crumbles, I suppose.
This is the episode where I thought I was going to meet a big name in adult fantasy literature. Emphasis on the “thought.”
If you do not know Patrick Rothfuss, he is the New York Times bestselling author of The Kingkiller Chronicles, an epic fantasy series. He is also witty and brilliant.
Last year, he came to town on a book tour for the second book in his series, The Wise Man’s Fear, and because of horrible circumstances that were out of my control (that I also can’t seem to remember) I was unable to go and see him.
However, the literature gods smiled upon me, and brought him back to my town again this year. I had the date set in my calendar for over a month, and was organizing carpools with friends who were also fans. We even planned to show up early so as to get good seats and beat the crowds. I’m talking HOURS early.
I would just sit and read until he got there. The wait would have been worth it.
Please notice how I say: “would have.”
Also out of my control were situations that required my wisdom teeth surgery to be scheduled THAT EXACT SAME DAY.
The most heartbreaking part was that I was blissfully unaware of this until a week before the event.
I thought I was going to meet Patrick Rothfuss, and have him sign my copies of The Name of the Wind (Book One), and The Wise Man’s Fear (Book Two). As an added bonus, authors Terry Brooks, Peter Orullian, and Shawn Speakman had been invited to sign copies of an anthology titled Unfettered that they and Rothfuss all contributed to.
I thought I was going to meet four authors and come home with three signed books.
Instead I was stuck on a couch with a swollen mouth and sore jaw.
To top it off, now the pictures are arriving. Everyone who met Rothfuss got a picture with him in a sassy, fun pose of some sort. To think that I missed my chance to meet, and take a picture with New York Times bestselling author Patrick Rothfuss in a hilarious pose puts me on the brink of tears.
Now here is what pushes me over the edge into outright crying mode.
Rothfuss was wearing his “Joss Whedon is My Master Now” t-shirt.
One of the major things anyone reading my posts should know about me is that I am a MAJOR Joss Whedon fan. I pretty much worship the ground he walks (ahem, writes) on.
So if you haven’t yet figured out what all this means, it’s this:
I MISSED MY CHANCE TO NERD OUT ABOUT JOSS WHEDON WITH PATRICK ROTHFUSS.
This has pretty much solidified my resolve to meet Patrick Rothfuss in life. There is no way I can ignore the fact that fate, and my sadistic sitcom writers, decided to place his book signings that close to me and then tug them just out of reach.
The only conclusion is that I must become immortal until I meet Patrick Rothfuss.
That, or I save up money once I become successful and buy a plane ticket to one of his book events.
That’s Olive-logic for you.
UPDATE: The second I finished writing this, my friend who WAS able to go to the event informed me that he is going to go watch Rothfuss play D&D tomorrow.
I’m now in the fetal position.
Cookie Image via WeHeartIt by Alito.
Patrick Rothfuss Image via PatrickRothfuss.com, photographer unknown.
Crimson Chin Gif via blindedbytheunseen on Tumblr.
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