Scarecrows are shaped and dressed like humans to fool birds from a distance—but if you get close enough, you see the shape and outerwear are a disguise. You can modify a lot about a scarecrow to make it look more human, but the closer a person gets to it, the less human it appears. I liked the idea of Sister’s husband physically resembling a scarecrow, and trying to acquire the pieces that would make him look human without his disguise—one Marianne is never able to see, but her family responds to favorably, which sets her apart.

I would like to think that if I were a father, I’d be as friendly a presence in my child’s life as this protagonist, but alas, life has not provided the hard evidence. I like to create characters different from myself, but at longer lengths have often given myself a little Hitchcockian cameo at the edge of the action. Closest thing to me in any recent work is the title character in “The Old Horror Writer” at Nightmare Magazine.

My first RPG character was for basic D&D, and he was an elf. Basic didn’t have classes and races as distinct things, so elves were a kind of fighter/wizard combination. I loved that character, and the adventures we had have stuck with me for nearly thirty years. So I’m partial to elves and spellcasters from that experience. The odd spells of D&D have always fascinated me, as well as the names. It’s probably no surprise to any RPG veteran that Briggsby’s name is meant to be a reference to an old-school wizard.

This is where the “strange effect” of fiction is really quite powerful. Being able to sympathize with people completely unlike ourselves helps open our minds to what others in the real world are going through. I try to remember this when I find myself judging people whose ambitions have lead them astray. We have a political and corporate climate right now that makes it easy to lose sympathy for people. There are some folks out there who are reviled by many, and I think it would break our hearts to learn how much some of them loathe themselves.

True fact: when I first read Orwell’s 1984 (back when I was a tiny!Merc and didn’t quite get a lot of the political commentary), I was miffed that things like the Ministry of Truth and the Ministry of Love were not literal. Tiny!Merc was outraged that these names were, in fact, hiding something quite different. When I grew older and eventually got the irony, it really became all that much scarier. Naming something that has connotations of positive concepts when the thing is really fucking terrifying is a mind game all its own.