Unfettered by Terry Brooks
FOREWORD
by Patrick Rothfuss
Can I be honest here? I don’t read forewords.
Can I be painfully honest? I don’t even know what forewords are for.
Am I supposed to somehow convince you to buy this book? Are you, even now, standing in a bookstore, reading this, your gut roiling with indecision?
That doesn’t seem to make sense to me. For one thing, you can see the folks in this anthology. You’ve read their names on the cover. It couldn’t be more impressive if it included Lord Vishnu and Optimus Prime. If those names didn’t convince you, what could I possibly say that might tip you over the edge?
I mean, it is true that owning this book will make you roughly 38 percent more attractive. Its mere presence on your shelf boosts your metabolism too. And there’s the fact that touching it on a daily basis is proven to cure scrofula and reverse baldness.
Seriously, what do you expect? I’m in the book. And I’m a professional liar. You can’t trust my opinion on this matter. Of course I’d like you to buy it.
Maybe you’ve already bought this book, and now I’m supposed to somehow reassure you, make it clear you’ve spent your money wisely. Is that the point of a foreword? Am I just trying to help you stave off the chilly hand of buyer’s remorse?
It seems to me that in both those cases, you’d be better served just reading the book rather than looking here for answers. I mean, honestly. We’re 250 words in at this point. If you’d just skipped this foreword, you’d already be on the second page of one of the stories…
Well, fine. If you’re here, I guess you want something else. And given that I don’t know what I’m supposed to write in a foreword, I’m just going to tell you a story.
Back in 2007, my first book was published. Also in 2007, my mom died of cancer.
In 2007, I also met Shawn Speakman. I found out that he’d had cancer in the past and had beaten it. My thoughts at the time were an odd mingling of confused (“What? You can do that?”) and thrilled (“Yeah! Take that, goddamn cancer!”).
Then he contacted me in 2011 and told me that he’d gotten a new cancer. It’s hard to describe how I felt. “Pissed off” sums it up fairly well. But there was also a sense of unfairness to it all. Nobody should have to deal with that shit twice.
When I asked for details, I was glad to hear that it was very treatable. Very beatable. I think I said something like, “Damn. That’s really awful…but congrats on getting a really good cancer.”
Those of you who have had personal brushes with cancer will understand this statement; the rest of you, probably not so much.
But there was bad news. Shawn couldn’t get health insurance because he’d had cancer before. That meant his treatment was probably going to bankrupt him.
When he told me about his plans for an anthology to raise money for his bills, I said I’d be happy to give him a story. It was a no-brainer for me, as it allowed me to if not spit directly into cancer’s eye, then at least glare at it angrily from across the room.
The fact that other authors have joined this anthology in such numbers shows what good folks sci-fi and fantasy authors are. I have a grudge against cancer. It was an easy choice for me. But a lot of them are merely doing this to help out a friend in a tight spot.
And by buying this book, you’ve helped too. Thanks for that. You’re a good person.
All right, I’ve wasted enough of your time here. On to the stories.
Patrick Rothfuss
Author
May 2013
INTRODUCTION
On Becoming Unfettered
When I was diagnosed with cancer in 2011, fear entered my life.
But not the fear you might think.
Cancer is a frightening disease. I think it is the initial uncertainty that strikes at the soul. Will I live? Will I die? Mortality is not a topic many contemplate until it is suddenly thrust upon them. It is too late for reflection by then, the fight just to survive eclipsing everything else. In my case, I had survived a different cancer ten years earlier and I had come to terms with my mortality then. So during my 2011 bout with Hodgkin’s lymphoma, those who knew me were not worried. They had seen me be a tough bastard before; they knew I would be one again.
I knew the same. I would bring my considerable emotional strength to bear and survive. I was not worried about dying.
I was worried about bankruptcy.