Foreword to SNOW. Proof that RJ is a cock!

A Message to the Reader

What's it like to sell e-rights to something? I'll tell you.

So here I am, sitting in my nice cool scriptorium, well, not so cool, August in Charleston being what it is, but still: stone walls, stone floor, a little ledge under the old table for me to put my feet on, a nice sharp quill in hand, a good clean piece of vellum before me, working hard, the cowl of my robe thrown back, my sleeves rolled up to keep them out of the ink, yeah, yeah, that's great initial, if I do say so, yeah! I'll get this book finished in time, yeah!.

When the great wooden doors are flung open, and framed in the doorway is a stout fellow with a balding head, a vastly smiling countenance, and a broadly checked jacket. His purple trousers break deeply on the top of his two-tone shoes.

"Hi!" he says, smile widening even more, revealing an amazing quantity of gold fillings. "My name is Gutenberg!" And from one of his deep, very deep, pockets he retrieves a slightly crumpled business card. He bounds forward and lays the card on my snowy, clean vellum. There are letters on it that were never drawn by hand, or my name isn't Robert Jordan.

"May I call you Bob?" he says, and doesn't wait for an answer. "Listen, I have a whole new way of communicating what you do! Trust me Bob. Trust me. I'll make you rich beyond the dreams of avarice. Just sign here."

He pulls out - did I mention his very deep pockets? - a screed of some kind of slick stuff ( I think he mutters something about "damned old fax paper") on which those odd newfangled letters seem to glow, almost like little flames.

This is what it felt like to sell the e-rights to the Prologue of Winter's Heart. I hope you enjoy it.

And I hope that contract stops bursting into flames every midnight...

Yes, this really happened just this way. Or my name isn't Robert Jordan.

hur sant var det där egentligen?
om det var det låter det som allas vår RJ på samma sätt avsvär sig allt ansvar för att ha sålt prologen, samtidigt som han använder ett ungdomligt språk jag iaf inte trodde om honom och hans ironi är i toppslag även den, för..han heter ju inte Robert Jordan... =)

Och i slutet ser det än en gång ut som han bara driver med oss...

Kolla upp äktheten på den där och återkom tack...

men eftersom jag kopierade den från Wotmanias hemsida i ett av MB inläggen och eftersom den lät åt helvete falsk så trodde jag det.