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Quote: I have stared in fear and awe before at fantasies where it seemed that every character went over-the-top with master plans and webs of complex political intrigue. It’s especially true of villains. Impulsive villains who get in trouble because they simply attacked on instinct are not common in fantasy, probably because fantasists seem to feel that if you have a “quick” temper, you’re automatically a good guy. (And yes, I’ve complained about that before, too). -- Show all different levels of planning, by limyaael.

I'm *so* getting one of my bad guys to do this. Can I ramp up the sneakiness of one and down the sneakiness of the other, in the novel, or does that screw something else up? I mean, I've got a bigoted aristocrat who thinks the heroine is incapable b/c she's a commoner. He thinks he's doing the best thing for his people by preserving the aristocracy, even at the cost of falling behind economically, so the southern counties rebuild first. Because, to him, the aristocracy is the most important thing to a people's welfare. Because he buys into the idea of an aristocracy, chosen by God. Even though doing so means people are artificially kept in their 'natural' hierarchical roles, instead of moving around in the more egalitarian post-plague society of the southern counties. And why are they more egalitarian? Because they were hit harder by the plague to begin with. Someone has to step up or they're all going to die.

Naturally once things have stablized some, the commoner who calls herself a Duchess has got to go, she's an affront to this bigot's cherished ideals, and attempts to rebuild the aristocracy to its former glory. The assassination attempt in the north could be an impulsive act on his part, and that could be why it fails.

His right hand man is nearsighted, and subtle, and loyal. I sort of thought they gravitated toward one another because of both being twisty. But, is that necessary? Hmmmm. But I have a bit where my bigot is being sneaky in his own right. Maybe he could be inspired to it by events, instead of planning.

I've learned something odd

the past few years.

I like children. It shows in a particular line, in "My Daughter, the Martian", about them being human potential incarnate, and that is how I think about them. But, I think...I think I actually like them. I like them in the abstract, but I guess also in the physical as well. I like the love a parent and child share, it's the purest thing in town, and I am...envious of it, I guess. Not jealous. Not angry, just...somewhat wistful. I'll never regain it as a child, and I'll never have it as a parent because I'll never be a parent[*].

I was watching my professor today, who was leaving on a family trip this morning immediately after class, and brought his son with him to class as a result, watching them together, and it was very reminiscent of how my twin brother is as a father. Very gentle and loving and attentive, and maybe that explains why I like this professor so instinctively, because there's something that seems so familiar and admirable in that approach to the world, of caring so deeply. When it comes to empathy, I hold people to the standard of my brother, I think; he is a truly compassionate and caring human being. He rescues people. I've always felt forced and false next to him, like I'm here on the sufferance of others, even though I try to rescue people, too[**].

*My* children are ideas, and stories, and whatever words and acts and memories I leave behind me. That's why it's always been so important to me to leave my mark on the world, because it's the only way I expect I'll be remembered.

I remember having that parent-child love as a child with my mother, just like I remember the two-in-one-ness of being a twin before we started to develop distinct personalities, back when we still finished each other's sentences. No relationship has ever come close to that shared intimacy. I figured out relatively recently that maybe life is supposed to be that way, and I can't go looking for a mate who can recreate a twin-nature relationship, because such a person can't exist. I had talked myself around to try and start dating this year, but then Papa died, and now I don't trust my reactions to anything or anyone, where the heart might be concerned.

[*]Pretty certain, at least.
[**]That's not true. I try to protect them. To stand between someone weaker than me, and whatever the danger is. I'm not sure that's the same thing.