More than ten years after A Dance With Dragons hit shelves, George R. R. Martin is once again confronting the question that has followed him everywhere: when will The Winds of Winter finally be finished? The answer, at least right now, is brutally honest — sometimes, he’s just “not in the mood.”
In a wide-ranging new profile, Martin reflects on the weight of success, the explosion of Westeros into a sprawling media empire, and the creative paralysis that has stalled the long-awaited sixth A Song of Ice and Fire novel. While he insists he still wants to finish the saga, the reality is far messier than fans would like.
Martin reveals he’s written roughly 1,100 manuscript pages of The Winds of Winter, a number he’s circled for years now. But progress comes in fits and starts. When he sits down to write, he often rereads what he’s done, hates it, and rewrites instead of moving forward. Other days, he jumps between characters like Tyrion and Jon Snow, chasing momentum that doesn’t always arrive. Although, he admits he is bothered by the quality of his own writing:
“I will open the last chapter I was working on and I’ll say, ‘Oh fuck, this is not very good.’ And I’ll go in and I’ll rewrite it. Or I’ll decide, ‘This Tyrion chapter is not coming along, let me write a Jon Snow chapter.’ If I’m not interrupted though, what happens — at least in the past — is sooner or later, I do get into it.”
George R.R. Martin Is Devastated by Fan Fury
The author acknowledges the cruel irony of it all: Game of Thrones becoming one of the biggest TV phenomena of all time is both the best and worst thing that ever happened to his books. The success opened doors to spinoffs, stage plays, video games, bars, bookstores, and film projects — but every new opportunity became another distraction pulling him away from the page.
Martin was also left devastated by an interaction with an idiot at a recent convention who claimed his age and his distractions are preventing him from finishing.
“They say, ‘He lied to us, he is going to die soon, look how old he is’. Nobody needs that shit.”
Still, Martin is adamant about one thing: no one else will finish The Winds of Winter for him. There is no backup writer, no secret contingency plan. If the book remains unfinished when he’s gone, then that’s simply how it will end — unfinished, like Dickens’ The Mystery of Edwin Drood.
Ironically, Martin remains energized when talking about other stories.
He lights up discussing Dunk and Egg, admits he’s started new novellas set in Winterfell and the Riverlands, and continues expanding Fire & Blood. The passion for the world hasn’t disappeared — it’s the specific weight of Winter that feels suffocating.
“I’m not necessarily tired of the world,” Martin says. “But sometimes I’m not in the mood for that.”
