“i don’t have the tears to cry anymore. but…i at least have to keep yu safe” // “i promise you, mika. even if i have to sell out the whole world to do it, i’ll make sure you’re turned back into a human.”
When a king brands us pirates, he doesn’t mean to make us adversaries. He doesn’t mean to make us c r i m i n a l s. He means to make us monsters. For that’s the only way his God-fearing, taxpaying subjects can make sense of men who keep what is theirs and fear no one. When I say there’s a war coming, I don’t mean with the Scarborough. I don’t mean with King George or England. Civilization is coming, and it means to exterminate us.
Everytime someone talks shit about my beautiful chubby jewish baby being a “bad protagonist” or an “annoying character” or EVEN a fucking “Nazi Hugger” all I can think about is poor Rebecca being like…
highlights of the author meetup w/ megan whalen turner
•"Gen, who has impulse control issues,“
•how she was determined to not write a book about a Quest and then ended up sort of writing book(s) about a Quest
•how she got into a fight with a friend one time about how to say “Avonlea” and wouldn’t say she was wrong for a long time, so we’re allowed to pronounce the names in her books however we want.
•”(it’s about) a Thief, who has bad impulse control,“
•Conspiracy of Kings is about Sophos learning to “put his big boy pants on”
I don’t think one can really articulate their thoughts on life through writing, but I’ve been asked to try, so here it goes. I think we’re all connected. Maybe not in a way that makes much sense, but I don’t think anyone is ever truly alone. You, reading this, are not alone. We may never meet, I may never be more than a character in a story to you, but that doesn’t matter. I think that when we pour a little bit of ourselves into paper and ink, those stories pour a bit of themselves back into us, too, and that makes us closer than you can imagine. Life is strange and difficult. You’ll sometimes feel completely lost. You’ll fall in love with the voices in your head. You’ll look in all the right places at all the wrong times for something that you think will make you happy. You’ll be forced to go through so much pain. But just know that, through it all, you are not alone. I’m with you, the character in the story that you poured a bit of yourself into when you took the time to read. I’m with you.
(Maybe we can never completely separate fictional characters from our own perspective and understanding—can we ever separate anything from that, really?—and they may not really reciprocate what we feel about them (be it love or hate), but that feeling itself is enough to change us. The more we pour our life, our time, our perception, our love and hate into the characters, the more we feel about them, then the more we are different from our past selves who had not poured and had not felt. And who knows, maybe that will lead to other changes. Maybe we’ll one day feel differently towards another incident, or make a different decision, because of what we’ve read and felt before? The characters are with us and we are not alone. I feel very blessed, or loved, to have met the characters I love.)