Season Three

There’s something magical and terrifying about the third of anything. The third book in a series. The third movie in a sequence. The third goal in a hockey game. The third album from a musician. The third can make or break a writer, producer, hockey team, singer, you name it. The first is an introduction. The second is laying more groundwork. The third is where lines are drawn, favourites are named and fates are decided.

Today begins season 3 of HBO’s Game of Thrones. This is the season the producers envisioned when they pitched the show to the network. Much of the content has been culled from the third book in A Song of Ice and Fire (by my hero George R.R. Martin), which in my mind was the book that made the series of novels. Inside, I am running around screaming. This is the season where the story really starts. I’ve been watching trailers for weeks, pouncing on every new link that pops up online. This is the season where my heart will be in my mouth the whole time even though I know what’s coming – or maybe because I know what’s coming. And by the gods, the producers had better not pull a Downton Abbey with the finale or I may just lose my mind.

Somehow, I doubt they will.