draque wrote:
It's better to leave people wanting more than agreeing "It's time for her to lay off this story."
Tryslmaistan... was a gift. It's just about as juicy a creative fruit as anyone could hope to have fall on their head. I could literally mine that universe to the day I drop and still not even scratch the potential. I mean... damn.
But how long until both I, and the readers, start to get sick of it? "JDR only ever had one idea, and it's all she ever writes about". I'd be one-note Jenny, and I'd come to resent that, and resent even the gift of the universe of Tryslmaistan. Then the writing would suffer.
I could still come back, though, later, with fresh eyes and a new appraisal of the place.
And who knows? Maybe someday somebody might even think enough of the universe that they would want to tell stories in it. It could happen. Stop laughing. It worked for Lovecraft. Yeah, I know he was competent and good and talented and stuff. It could still happen. It could. Maybe the whole planet might catch the Tard Flu, and then my work would be seen as great. It could happen.
And if it did, my only request would be that the established physics thus far be respected, and that I be remembered as the one who discovered it. A universe is a big place. A lot of stories can happen there.
How could I not one day return to my golden, shining Tryslmaistan?