Kill the boy, Jon Snow. Winter is almost upon us. Kill the boy and let the man be born.

In order to get inside their skin, I have to identify with them. That includes even the ones who are complete bastards, nasty, twisted, deeply flawed human beings with serious psychological problems. Even them. When I get inside their skin and look out through their eyes, I have to feel a certain - if not sympathy, certainly empathy for them. I have to try to perceive the world as they do, and that creates a certain amount of affection.

As much as I love historical fiction, my problem with historical fiction is that you always know what's going to happen.

Inside the room, a man and a woman were wrestling. They were both naked.

Know the men who follow you and let them know you. Don't ask your men to die for a stranger.

And when you have it, what then? Some secrets are safer kept hidden. Some secrets are too dangerous to share, even with those you love and trust.

Sorcery is the sauce fools spoon over failure to hide the flavor of their own incompetence.