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Hey! so I just finished going on the forums and I haven’t seen this come up yet. Can we confirm that when Yumi was going to the pools each morning that was Virtuosity’s perpendicularity? First I think it is highly important that she does the same ritual every day. Dip in pool of water. With meditation to keep her focused on her purpose to create art and help her people. Which with a still mind would prevent her from accessing the investure at the shard pool. Also very important to note when she left the first pool. Painter found it odd she was wet. When they first bathed together. This could exactly be investure based condensation like that seen on shard blades. Second in the book Hoid clearly makes note she is a highly invested entity. (Enough to come back as a cognitive shadow because she wanted to) but where is she getting this investiture from? Third Small note but with all this extra investiture it probably makes her stacking rocks easier. (Like a Windrunner lashing) Fourth how can we consider this as an ecology? Brandon loves to create and play out far out scenarios. We know the father machine was able to expand its pattern of acquiring investiture. After an error caused it to behave not as the scholars intended. Why not entrap a highly invested being that every day would refresh. So it created a system everyday she gets dunked and harvested for energy. Creating lies, so that she believes every day she is going to a different town. In reality if the planet was as hot as she described. A planet where people wear clogs to prevent burns. I believe normal water would be very hard if not impossible to find. I still think her creating art was a crucial step, as that was how she attracted spirits. But instead of giving it to the towns folk, she was actually giving it to the father machine. Like giving breaths. please let me know what you think!

Welcome to a bonkers, off-the-rails Shardcast. We're talking Tress and Yumi. We're talking Midnight Essence and the nightmares. We're talking about smoke. Black smoke! Yes, that's what we are doing for over two hours. Can you guess where we go in this episode and how many bizarre terms we mention? Well... you'll find out! This episode we have Eric (Chaos), David (Windrunner), Evgeni (Argent), and Grace (thegatorgirl)! Thumbnail by Aliya Chen: https://www.brandonsanderson.com/standalones-cosmere/#secretproject3 Here are all the Annotations Brandon has done: https://www.brandonsanderson.com/brandon-sanderson-online-library/#annotations 00:00 Intro & Podcast Topic 2:54 Show and Tell 5:55 Black Smoke Before Secret Projects 23:58 Midnight Essence 41:39 Nightmares and the Father Machine 1:49:34 Red Smoke vs. Black Smoke 2:02:02 Shades 2:13:17 Who's That Cosmere Character If you like our content, support us on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/17thshard For discussion, theories, games, and news, come to https://www.17thshard.com Come talk with us and the community on the 17th Shard Discord: https://discord.gg/17thshard Want to learn more about the cosmere and more? The Coppermind Wiki is where it's at: https://coppermind.net Read all Words of Brandon on Arcanum: https://wob.coppermind.net Subscribe to Shardcast: http://feeds.soundcloud.com/users/soundcloud:users:102123174/sounds.rss Send your Who's That Cosmere Characters to [email protected]

The light coming from "the star" that can be seen from Komashi is the only light that penetrates the shroud. The shroud is pure investiture. So I'm thinking, what pierces/counteracts investiture? Silver! Could this be silver light?!? Hoid says he thinks the light has something to do with Virtuosity splintering herself, because apparently she did that near "the star" (aka UTol). What do you think the light is and why can it pierce the shroud when light from their sun cannot?

I know that I was not the only one who thought about this when reading through Yumi and the Nightmare Painter, and I have seen people mention a thing or two about it in various places, but I figured it would be good to compile thoughts all in one place. What are people's thoughts/opinions about the connections between the people of Komashi and the Shin people? There are just a few choices that seem too intentional to me to not have been on purpose. These are the few things that I have personally noticed about it. Things suggesting there might be a connection: The people of Komashi use the honorific "-nimi" (At least they did 1700 years ago), just like we see Szeth do in Stormlight. Both the Komashi and the Shin do not walk on stone. Things suggesting that there might NOT be a connection: We know that of the people groups on Roshar, the Komashi specifically look the most like Vedens who very much do NOT look like the Shin. The Komashi do not walk on stone because of its heat (they use clogs to elevate themselves off of the stone instead of touching it directly with their skin), whereas the Shin do not walk on stone because they view stone as holy and it would therefore be sacrilegious to do so. Now, on that last note, I do think it is interesting to take a look at the religion of Shinovar. It is stated that they do not worship stone itself, but the spirit of the stone. Considering that on Komashi, one, they have spirits, and two, the spirits are the ones who give heat to the ground, making it unable to be walked upon, I could see some distant connection between them and the Shin here that got warped through time and generations. This is without mentioning the fact that Komashi spirits are drawn in by the stacking of stones, adding more to why stones themselves would be seen as holy. On top of all of that, the religion of Shinovar sees the sun as the "god of gods" which seems to be a sentiment that very much would be agreed upon by people of Komashi because of the whole situation with the Shroud (given there would likely be some timeline issues with that). BUT, all in all, there seem to be a lot of interesting connections between the Shin people, how they talk, and their religion and the Komashi. So, any thoughts on this? Anything I did not bring up or notice?

"Why do we tell stories?" You are all readers, so you've all undoubtedly read countless books in your lifetime. Books that you enjoyed, books that you loved, and... books that you've forgotten. I wish those groups never overlapped, but when I was looking back on my reading history the other day I ran into tons of books that I remember enjoying, but are doomed to forever be forgotten. And yet every once in a while a story comes along that changes you. A story that means so much, something so incredibly personal, that it just won't let you go. Those are the stories we remember. Five days ago, I finished reading the ebook files for Yumi and the Nightmare Painter. I've never forgotten a book in five days, so it may not mean that much when I tell you that Yumi and the Nightmare Painter is a story I remember, so I'll say this instead: Yumi and the Nightmare Painter was one of the most satisfying journeys Brandon Sanderson has ever taken me on. It's not just a book I liked reading, it's a book I want to think about. It's beautiful. Every part of that story had me hanging on the interactions between those two main characters, Yumi and Painter. Every quiet moment, every conversation, had me loving these two characters. But though this book was a masterpiece of character development, and a study on how to write a romance that feels believable, there was something more to the book, something that made me want to remember it forever. To figure out what it is, I think we should start with the ending. (So if you haven't read it I honestly don't know what you're doing here...) I know there are people on the Shard and otherwise on the internet who will say that the ending of Yumi and the Nightmare Painter is unrealistic, and would have wanted it to end with Yumi's death. I know your type, those people who hate happiness and just want an ending that proves that stories are sometimes sad, and an ending that goes against the normal "happy ending" cliche. (I'm talking to you, Wit. And obviously Dan Wells, but that goes without saying.) There will be others among you that dislike the ending because it's too much of a fake out, making some people (but definitely not me, because I never feel emotions, so don't be ridiculous) burst into tears, just to burst into tears again when it turns out that Yumi is actually alive. (Again, not me.) So my question is: What's the point? Why did Brandon decide on this fake-out ending? Was it a simple "Gotcha, you thought she was dead, but turns out you're wrong!" Or was there more to it? I've always thought that the last line of a book should be twice as significant as the first. The first line, for all intents and purposes, is just clickbait. Make people intrigued, make them want to know more, etc. But the last line is what readers remember. The final tone. That last line, be it dialogue or narration, decides if the ending is happy or sad. I think it's no coincidence that the last thing Yumi says in the book is a plea to Painter. "Remember me." Those two words killed me. They broke my heart, right along with Painter's. And then I wanted to throw the book across the room when the next chapter was an epilogue. And the only question I could ask myself is: "What was the point?" My thoughts aligned perfectly with Wit's question in the epilogue. The same question I began this essay with. "Why do we tell stories?" I have finished five complete stories and started many others, but recently I've been feeling more burned out then I ever have before. I just finished writing my greatest book yet, and before revising it I decided to dive into the sequel. I've never had to write a sequel before, and suffice it to say it's the hardest book I've ever written. I wonder daily: "Will I ever finish this book? Or will it all go to waste. Am I supposed to be a writer? Because a writer could write a sequel..." And it goes on and on. The pressure feels incredible, because now for the first time in my life there are people counting on me. And so I keep asking myself the same question. What is the point? Why am I wasting hours upon hours writing stories, when I don't know if I'm a good enough writer for those stories to ever be seen? Why do these stories mean so much to me? I'm not writing for the money, and I hope I'm not writing in pursuit of fame, so why do I tell stories? Why do I spend hours writing essays that are probably only ever going to mean something to me? It wasn't until I read Yumi and the Nightmare Painter that I discovered the answer to this question. I write stories to remember, and just as importantly I write stories to be remembered. That may be equally selfish as writing for the purpose of becoming famous, but I want to be clear, it's not the same. I don't write stories to be known, I write stories to be remembered. It's not about having a crowd of admirers, it's a plea as simple and intimate as Yumi's plea to Painter. Remember me. And so perhaps Wit's question in the epilogue of the book could be restated, as "Why do we remember?" And that's a question which is much more complex, and much more interesting to me as a reader, and a writer. That's the question that I feel like the book is asking. What is the point of memories? "There's an old joke that mentions lost items always being in the last place you look for them. It doesn't say anything about memories though. Those, once lost, are the sort of things you don't even know to look for." As a society I fear we are often told to forget. Some people discourage the teaching of parts of history, because of the terrible things people did in the past. Governments cover past sins, because they don't want people to remember their mistakes. The same is true for the lies families tell about their ancestors. And perhaps the biggest and most crushing lie that I've heard people tell is the concept of "moving on." To many people all you have to do to move on is forget the past. Whether it be tragedy or bliss, no good comes from "dwelling on it" now. And... this is a lie that is so easy to believe that for years I told it to myself. I lost someone I loved, and for the longest time the easiest path was to pretend I'd never loved her in the first place. I couldn't remember her because it was too painful, so I told myself that I'd "moved on." In reality, I had forgotten. Why do we remember, when all memory brings, is pain? Maybe we all fondly remember brighter days, days when we were happy. And now we only wish our life could compare. What is the point? I suspect that Brandon Sanderson knew exactly what he was doing with the ending of Yumi and the Nightmare painter, because it's right where the story is at its most heartbreaking that he asks the most important question. And this entire beautiful book is the answer. It's not about the plot. Stories were never about events, they're about people. That's what separates a story I'll remember from one I'll never think about again. People are worth remembering. It was the characters that made Brandon Sanderson's third secret project memorable. It was Yumi, and her plea to remember. It was Painter, not giving up on her. But for him, it's more than remembering her. When bringing her back he tells her "I know you." I don't think a lot of people realize what "moving on" really is. It's not about forgetting the past, it's about remembering it. Knowing it. Not in the way you remember a painful event, but in the way you remember a great story. Once again in the words of our narrator wit, “Memory is often our only connection to who we used to be. Memories are fossils, the bones left by dead versions of ourselves. [...] Enjoy memories, yes, but don’t be a slave to who you wish you once had been. Those memories aren’t alive. You are.” Yumi thought she wanted to be remembered, but in reality she wanted to be known. That's what brought her back, not someone who remembered her but someone who knew her. Memories are snapshots, fossils, images of people we'll never really know. But stories? Those are something so much greater. They're somehow alive, even if the people inside them never will be. We all have our own story to tell. Every human on earth has a story. This essay is my last plea to you, remember. It's not about remembering me, who is nothing more than a profile picture to most of you, it's about remembering your own story. And that my friends is the answer to Wit's question. That's why we tell stories. Because every story is about a person who deserves to be known. And when I remember a masterpiece like Yumi and the Nightmare Painter, perhaps I'm really remembering my own story. And that's why it means so much to me. We don't tell stories for the endings, happy or sad, we don't tell stories for the plot, we tell them because that's how we remember, in a way that can actually change us. Even when the story was at its most heartbreaking, Yumi's story was worth telling. And even when it's at its weakest, your story is too. Thank you all, for taking the time to read the ramblings of a tired author, if you have any thoughts I'd love to hear them. I know it's unusual for people to post topics like this, but I've always been fascinated by themes, and it's rare that that aspect of a book is discussed. I love you guys, I hope you all have a great life.