Dear George R.R. Martin;
I’ll be frank. I love your Song of Ice and Fire series. No, not love. Adore. Worship. Envy. Not since Tolkien and Douglas Adams have I so looked forward to reading, to losing myself in a tale, to visiting with characters who feel like friends…and enemies (I’m looking at you, Cersei Lannister). In fact, my attachment to these books runs so deep that some days, I admit, I’m more involved in the fate of these characters than I am in the humans around me (a little pathetic, I know, but have you seen the humans around me lately? LOL, humans around me. I’m just kidding! Mostly…)
These books are brilliant. They’re riveting. Pound for pound (which, as you know, is about how much each book weighs; 2lbs in hardcover), they provide more action, more intrigue, more compelling characters, and more damn good prose than any other fantasy – nay, than any other fiction – out there today (just my humble opinion).
Like you’ve done to so many of my fantasy-phile brethren, you have ticked me off. You have raised my nerd ire. Why? You haven’t finished this frickin’ thing. Finish this frickin’ thing!
Look, I know you have a life, other ambitions, family, and friends. That TV show. I have something that resembles a life, too, (just don’t tell my other family). But we need you to wrap this up. We need resolution. We need to see a definitive, epic battle between men and Others, where masses die, kingdoms fall, loved ones are reunited, and dragons swoop down and burn shit up. I’m tellin’ ya, I better see dragons burn shit up.
See, it’s not just that I think you’re going to pull a Robert Jordan and pass away before you complete the series (I’ll kill you if you do that!) In reality, I’m more afraid that you’re going to take longer than you need to tell the story. I’m afraid you’re going to pad it with side stories and details that don’t matter and drag this thing out to lengths it doesn’t need to be taken.
I know you probably have editors salivating at your door, begging you to keep this gravy train chugging as long as possible, but please, I beg of you. Don’t take that path. Tell the story and nothing more. If Tolkien can tell the quintessential, genre-defining fantasy epic in three slender volumes of lush prose, if Douglas Adams can tell a singular (in every sense of the word) sci-fi tale in a scant four book trilogy, you can complete A Song of Ice and Fire in the promised seven books, six if you really tried.
So, what do you say, Mr. Martin? Why don’t you put down that script and complete the books - and our lives - first. Is that really so much to ask?