Like all good things this blog has come to its end. It’s been fun, but I just don’t have the time for it anymore.
I wrote these theories over the span of four months, yet it feels so much longer. It’s astonishing how rich this world is and how much there is to explore in it.
Before these books I didn’t read any fiction, nor have I written much since college.
I was a show watcher and dumbstruck when (spoiler alert) Ned was killed and that was when I decided I had to read these books.
It has been the literary ride of my life.
Through this journey, it inspired me to learn the craft of writing myself. But before becoming a writer, I must become a reader. There is so much to learn, read and catch up on.
Thank you GRRM. If I ever get the chance to meet you someday, provided I remember how to breathe, I hope to tell you how much your work means to me.
P.S. I don’t post theories anymore, just bad jokes, but if you want to keep in touch or message me, my username is Daendrew at the Westeros.org and reddit forums.
Fire and Plush
I just received a package from Fantasy & Science Fiction with an autographed talking GRRM plush doll. With fire and plush, I took first place in their last paragraph of A Dream of Spring competition.
I asked the doll for spoilers but he only told me to keep reading.
As I was opening the box, my direpup went in for George’s jugular and almost ran off with him.
How many fans can say they saved George R. R. Martin? No one can say.
I just opened the latest edition of Fantasy & Science Fiction (print only) where they held a “game of prose” competition to guess how GRRM would finish the last paragraph of A Dream of Spring.
I won first place.
A Feast for Spring
They feasted on jellied calf-brain soup, honeyed chicken and an emerald green salad with sundried mulberries drizzled atop slices of swan. Rivulets of red and brown gravy meandered the contours of the greens. In the center was a whiskerfish, with its eyes of onyx and jet starring blankly at the men who ate of its flesh. To the left Tyrion could see Queen Sansa, First of Her Name, reaching for a tray of blood oranges and Dornish plums arranged in the shape of a direwolf; its jaws were dripping with juices of sweetblood.
Dinner had come.