A story ended before it's time
I know it is tacky as all hell, but as wannabe-cultured and pretentious as I am I'd like to begin this announcement with a quote from one of my favourite Shakespearean plays:
First my fear; then my courtesy; last my
speech. My fear is, your displeasure; my
courtesy, my duty; and my speech, to beg
This is an excerpt from the epilogue of King Henry IV Part II, a play I would wager most of you who speak English as a first language are at least somewhat familiar with, and these lines above are spoken by an unnamed Dancer, most likely played by Shakespeare himself. He goes on to state that he was recently in an "displeasing play", and he later apologises for the poor quality of the current performance, promising a better conclusion in the last two plays of Henriad: Richard III and Henry V (not in that order).
I am not Shakespeare, and this is not a play. This certainly isn't even "high literature". But in the same vein I would feel the same. I, too, fear the displeasure of you, my readers. I too, must announce my duty to you regardless. And lastly, I too would ask you to forgive me.
I will not continue on this story.
Due to the start of a very eventful school year and a close member of my family coming ill with cancer I had to take a break from this story. Since then I have practiced my own writing, thought little has come of it; also, I started learning three new languages, and utterly failed at caring for that sick family member. She is now dead, and after having spent some months mourning I thought to return to this story.
And yet, I cannot bring myself to. After having spent the last seven months at least partially present in a literature science class at one of Sweden's top universities I simply find this story too... let's just go with shit.
I find the story too shit to finish. It is messy, confused, accidentally sexist, inconsistent in tone and unorganised in structure. My own raised standards will not allow me to complete this FanFiction in good conscience. Thus, this version of The Wolf that Kissed the Rose dies here.
I do apologise for this, just as I apologise for not writing sooner. There is no excuse for a failing work-ethic, and I have failed all of you who would like to see this story finished. Still, I cannot be untrue to my own convictions. Without my demands on myself, I am nothing.
But I am not dead, and I am still a fan of Westeros and the Game of Thrones. This story might be dead - but as the Cthulhu-worshipping fantasy counterparts to my own culture state: what is dead may never die.
I am already working on a rebooted version of this story, with a title still in the works. Call it tWtKtR 2.0 for now. And this time I will endeavour to find one or more Beta-writers to light a fire under my proverbial arse and make sure I don't riddle the text with typos and donkey-ish grammar. The new story will revamp some story-lines, start at an earlier place in the canon, and retain many elements from the old story whilst scrapping some others. Overall, I hope it will make for a better finished product.
If you'd like to be part of that creative process, or just like to lend feedback to me of any sort (I fully expect threats and plenty of wailing and gnashing of teeth, but I am hopeful for at least some happy few to make themselves known) do send me PM;s and tell me all about it. For now it's a "come one, come all"-type of situation.
The first chapter on the new story should be up by the end of this week. Hopefully it will be better than this one, making it so that I haven't been typing out of my arse for the duration of this post.
And so, with my sincerest apologies,
Ola / KaiserKou
The best is yet to come