"There was a point when duty and principle could no longer co-exist in peace. When that happened, a man had to choose or compromise or run."
1114 new words, in a new scene. I'm jumping all over the place in terms of time, but the idea of writing a step-by-step account of their journey did not appeal one bit. (There can be too much mud, despite the New Mired.)
I'm beginning to have more of a handle on what is eating Jehan, and what de Faumont knows. I've said all along that while Grass King is Aude's book, this one is Jehan's, and the details of what he was doing on his military service are starting to line up.
The book still needs a title, however, (the working one is Twin Cities Burning, but that feels very much like a place-holder to me). Grass King had its in place from the get-go, as does The Drowning Kings (which I must get back to). Living With Ghosts got its name fairly late on and I've never been entirely happy with it. Valdarrien never had one at all -- that's its use-name, not the one for company use. I'll either find something or I won't. These things, with me, are not always effable.
Next up is visiting the deadly R, who was a very good boy yesterday, when I took him to the vet.
Skirt of the day: panelled teal.
New words: 1041
Project: The Drowning Kings
First new line today: He said, ‘I’m sorry. About the dog.’
Gif is uncertain and Owain isn't sure he knows how to talk to girls.
Why, I ask myself, do I not only give the dog a name from a very early nursery rhyme, but then bang my head against a nasty textual problem in the two lines therein that I need to translate? Mutter, mutter, mutter... There's nothing like Welsh history to send you to the dogs (and the dictionary) sometimes.
The builders left early today, as they have run out of stuff to do without their digger,a nd that doesn't arrive till Monday. So all is nice and quiet. A friend of a neighbour has come round and collected the marquis' ancient Honda CM125 motorbike, intending to rebuild it, and the marquis is happy that it's finally found a new home. The cats are fascinated by the new aspects in their garden -- no shed! Lots of bits of ex-shed leaning on the hedge to be sniffed and marked! Big open sandpit! Wheel-barrows! Ish likes the new things to investigate, Mooncat like having new people to supervise and everyone likes the new tunnels behind the leaning bits of wood, but Horus is rather baffled by the sudden reduction in branches and height of one of his climbing trees.
Skirt of the day: denim. It's cooler weather and I have no brain.
I've been thinking about characters and how we become invested in them -- and, indeed, how we become invested in other people's characters. On some level, it makes sense that I'm invested in Gracielis and Thiercelin and Jehan and Aude and Owain. They started out in my head. It is a delightful surprise when people not in my head like them too.
But I also invest hugely in other people's characters. I care about them, I want to spend time with them, I want to see them succeed and grow. Most of the time, this stays within sensible bounds, but every once in a while the irrational button goes off and that weird little inner voice says 'mine!'
I am all about Aramis. Those of you who've known me a while will know this. Aramis is my ur-hero, my archetype, my perfect fantasy. If Aramis is in it, I will read it (or watch it), even though I know that the only true fix will come from reading about him in the works of Dumas. I am possessive of him: when another person mentions investment in him, I can feel myself bristle. My Aramis (my> marquis!>). It's crazy. This is someone else's creation, built on a minor figure from French history about whom we know almost nothing. I don't want to share him. There is currently a series of mysteries featuring the Musketeers which I buy and read religiously even though the writer -- in my head -- has my Aramis all wrong. In my head, I know he's not mine, he's a character everyone can read about and think about. My adult self knows to play nicely, and is delighted when someone writes something or films something where they have him right (for my value of right). My child self wants to hang on to her things.
I'm not the only person who does this, I suspect. We can become extraordinarily attached to characters and react very badly when something happens to them, even in canon, that hurts them. In my head are various other places where certain characters did not die, did not leave, did not make choice X. This love for the fictional, this engagement, is clearly something we can all do. There is something about Aramis that just works for me, that resonates with me, that works with the way I work, something archetypical, perhaps, that slight, dark, dangerous thing.
So, here's my question: do you do this too? And why?