There are two kinds of writers, according to Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon demiurge George R.R. Martin. Some, like Martin’s idol and inspiration, J.R.R. Tolkien, are architects, meticulously planning out their intricate worlds and the hundreds of characters and story lines that exist within them. Others, like Martin himself, are gardeners, planting seeds and knowing what they’ll eventually blossom into, but without any knowledge or control of what shape they’ll take along the way as they grow. The gardener’s job isn’t to draw and execute blueprints; it’s to prune and cultivate the blossoms into a pleasing shape.
I haven’t read The Wheel of Time, the 15-volume epic-fantasy saga by the late author (and close friend of Martin’s) Robert Jordan and, following Jordan’s death, his collaborator and chosen successor, Brandon Sanderson. A cursory search indicates Jordan, at least, was more of a gardener type — he labeled himself a “discovery” writer — and it stands to reason: A planned trilogy doesn’t wind up a dozen books longer than expected if you’ve got it all mapped out in an outline in a notebook or hard drive somewhere.
After watching the season-three premiere of The Wheel of Time — one of three episodes debuting this week — I’m not convinced that creator-showrunner Rafe Judkins and writer Justine Juel Gillmer are architects or gardeners. They’re more like Abstract Expressionist painters, dipping their brushes into big cans of epic-fantasy stuff and just splashing them all across the canvas. It may seem random or haphazard, and it’s definitely overwhelming to look at at first. But eventually, a picture emerges, one that clearly communicates the artist’s ideas and emotions. Even if it’s difficult to make them out now, hey, that sure is a lot of bright-colored paint they flung at the wall, isn’t it?
I reviewed the season premiere of The Wheel of Time for Vulture.
