"Get a life! It's just fan-fiction."

"Hey, folks, it's just fan-fiction; chill the [edited] out."

I've seen this on more than a few profiles. The author(esse)s spout this phrase to justify any and all things, because, after all: "it's just fan-fiction."

Yes, I know: "it's just fan-fiction," but one conforms to what one reads and what one writes, and the author(esse)s that thoughtlessly write this dismissive motto, I believe, have not looked deeply into the meaning of the words they write.

"It's just fan-fiction." So I can write about rape or coerced or forced abortion callously or even gleefully, says the author(ess).

"It's just fan-fiction." So I can murder an annoying character, says the author(ess).

"It's just fan-fiction." So I can proxy racist or sexist language, says the author(ess).

"It's just fan-fiction." But the author(ess) has written those words, and the author(ess) has thought those thoughts.

But "it's just fan-fiction" so there's no accountability to those words, and I, the reader, who take their meaning seriously need to get a life.

Hm.

It may be "just fan-fiction," but, silly me, I can't read stories that treat characters as objects or ends. Au contraire, I prefer to read and to write "just fan-fiction" that encourages me to think about things more than "just fan-fiction."

But that's just me, silly me, a bear with little brain, and, after all, it's "just fan-fiction," isn't it?

Or is it? Are you writing "just fan-fiction"? Or are you writing literature? Are you indulging in gratuitous ... whatever ... or are you writing about something that make you laugh so hard you cry, or cry so hard you [well, in my case, cry more] have to laugh at yourself. Are you writing "just fan-fiction" that encourages our girls to think of themselves as just objects in order to receive any love at all ("Oh, in the fanfics I read Edward sexes Bella all the time, so for my BF to like me I have to put out")? Maybe you can write "just fan-fiction" where the girl is the heroine? Where the reader sees [predominately] herself as a person of worth and with self-worth: as a writer or poet or Amelia Earhart or Jane Austen or Bella Swan or ... herself ... the person nobody else can be: a person of value, a lovable person on her own terms, just as she is.

Nah! Who am I kidding? After all: "it's just fan-fiction" so I should just get a life.

Or is my getting a life the point at all? Ever?


If somebody reads my fanfic, and they not only get a life, but they ...

... start writing their own essays and stories?

... start seeing hope in their bleak work-a-day world?

and they ...

... stop thinking themselves as a victim of ... something ...

and they ...

... don't take their own life ... what's the worth of that?

Is the point of your fanfic for me to get a life?

I hope so.

I sincerely hope that your fanfic is so compelling, so touching, so meaningful, that I find, in it, a reason to keep breathing where I had no reason before.

Just fan-fiction? Yes. But it also can be Art, it also can be Literature.

For someone, it can be more than "just fan-fiction."

That all depends on you, my dear author(esse)s.

MSR: summary sux, plz read!

"Writing a story about something."

Do you know what I hate? I hate it that many fan fiction author(esse)s write "[blah-blah-blah]; summary sux; story defiantly better inside, rly, so read it, eh?"

If you're summary "sux," and that's a synopsis of your story, I'd want to read your story for which reason?

Oh, and are you going to misspell "definitely"? Just curious.

Why the above rant?

Because, I, too, am "writing a story about something."

Is it fiction? Well, yes, ... and no. Is a relationship fictional? Perhaps. Is this one? Perhaps.

Is it an angsty piece? Well, yes, defiantly (did I get the spelling of "definitely" au courant?) ... and no. Is life all sweetness and light? No. Is this piece? No. But is life lived in pure bleakness? No. Does this piece wallow in it? That answer depends on you, my dear reader.

Is it fan-fiction? Well, yes, ... and no. My Bella (now just a girl without a name yet) and my Rosalie are Twilight canonical characters, researched thoroughly (in the canon, I might add), represented accurately as a real human teenage girl with ... well ... with "self-image" issues, and a "real" vampire girl with a tanker truck-load of baggage. A "real" vampire girl with a real problem of dealing with real bloodlust, all the time, while she's really determined to understand this mortal that she has resolved that she must murder. Well, "kinda" resolved.

Is it femslash?

How do I answer that one? Is there sex? No. So it's not femslash, right?

My cara spoza, reading this story says that the feelings between the two protagonists ... well ...

So, defiantly not femslash because there's no lemonade at any of the meals served in Bella Fourche, SD, ... right?

And, anyway, is that all that people do all the time? Do you and everybody you know sex it up all day every day? [Don't answer that, please, where — o, where! — has the bedroom door gone?] So, when you meet somebody who so blows you away, do you throw caution and care to the wind to throw her into bed? This is The One, now, not a one night stand. You screw this up, and you've really screwed it up for yourself and for her, for realz, yo.

That's me: keeping it realz, yo ... in the fiction-y, angsty, femslash-y way that I write.

So, I'm "writing a story about something." It's called "My Sister Rosalie." It's on twilighted.net and fanfiction.net under my nom-de-plume geophf. It's helped some people and offended others. Maybe the imagery in the story will give you some ideas for your art? I'd love to see them.

So, but, yeah. I sympathize with you ... I really do. Writing a summary is hard, and you're working so hard to make your story just right, so why bother writing a good summary ... no ... why bother writing the perfect summary?

I'll tell you why: because your summary is the doorway to your story. You write a summary that "sux" ... then what does that say about your story? What does it say about the writer? If you will not expend the effort to make the only thing most people will ever see about your story ... do you really wish for people to read your story? If you think your summary "sux" because you say it does ... what does that really say about your story?

P.S. Please, please, please remember, my dear author(esse)s definitely to use the word "definitely" when you are certain about something. I know you are a defiant young person and all, writing fan-fiction, but, really, you did pass fifth grade English, haven't you? The only way you can answer this question credibly? Proper word choice, spelling, grammar and punctuation. I have readers from all over the world; I choose to represent the best of myself and my country of origin. Do you represent yourself with any pride in your self-worth?

Edward

Um, please reread the original posting here before reading on.

So, ladies and (at least one) gentlemen. Edward. I've already touched on him, very slightly and sympathetically, elsewhere, but a comment today triggered this pensée.

The comment was in the mode of the following: "Well, geophf, Edward loves Bella, obviously, so ..."

One thing those who have worked with me, is that, just as one must never say "never" in this Eternal Now, one must never say "obviously" to geophf ... unless it is obviously so.

My poor, poor beta can attest very well to that. She's a young thing, but has the constitution of iron. She needs it, working with me. Poor girl.

Back on point.

"Edward loves Bella, obviously."

Edward "loves" Bella.

Hm.

Pardon me for deconstructing the obviousness of this statement, but, I am a bear of very little brain, and to understand something, I must take the meal in in small bites.

The first bite is this one. I had thought that for someone to love someone else, that they must respect them? And, yes, I had said in my other post that Edward treats Bella with respect and had given examples, ... but does he?

Allow me to play my own devil's advocate for a moment here, okay?

Okay.

So, poor me, but I thought a part of respecting somebody else is to listen to them and to consider what they say?

I mean, if our pastor can mention my man Martin in a homily, then I suppose it's okay to mention something about Ich und Du here, no?

So, is there one example, at all, in the canon where Edward listens to Bella and considers what she says?

Anyone? Anyone at all? Bueller?

Hm. No voluteers? So I guess I'll volunteer the canon.

• Twilight: Bella begs Edward to hear her out on the race to escape James. Does Edward listen? I answer that: no. Alice and Emmett do, but not Edward. Only by force majeure does he turn the vehicle away from a reckless dash to nowhere with no plan.


• New Moon, pre-catatonic-Bella: Bella begs Edward not to leave her, saying that she'd die without him. Does he listen? I answer that: no. We could have skipped both New Moon and Eclipse if he did.
  
  And, just now, coming off a reread of New Moon, I have to say: thanks for that, Edward.


• New Moon, post-attempted-suicide-Bella: Bella begs Edward to change her, again, for the thousandth time. Does he listen? I answer that: no. So she puts it to a vote of the family, and she gets force majeure. Does he listen then? I answer that: no. Jasper's and Emmett's wrecked plasma TV wishes he did, though. And Alice wishes that, too (nice vision that: Bella sucked dry because Alice was unable to control the blood lust).


• Eclipse: Bella begs Edward to stay with her in the big fight with Victoria's newborns, the Cullens and the wolves. Does he listen? I answer that: no. She had to tell him that catatonia à la New Moon (that is "New Moon II: Fuller and Bluer") awaited to get him to stop brushing her off. She, by her self-admission, has to become a monster, something alien to herself, to get Edward to stop and take in what she is begging him. And if she didn't do this? Victoria and Riley against just Seth? Hm. Well that would have saved us all from Breaking Dawn (a book I happen to like but that some do not, I am told) and the next two points ...


• Breaking Dawn, Book I: Bella begs Edward not to destroy the fœtus, her baby ... their baby. Does he listen? I answer that: no. So instead he offers up his wife to Jacob, the "No doesn't mean no so I'll just assaultkiss you right now because that's what you really want" rival for Bella's affections when he can't get force majeure from his family to perform a forced, non-consensual, abortion on the girl.
  

  À propos de rein, is Rosalie the only character in the canon who ever listened to Bella and who helped her? Is that why Rosalie is so reviled, because she listened to our girl and stood up to the whole world to stand by Bella? Selfishly listened, yes, but listened and then acted on that listening?
  
  I mean, not even Alice, who considers Bella her BFF and all that, took Bella in Twilight because of listening to Bella. And all those make-overs, kidnappings and shopping trips? Did Rosalie ever force her will on Bella? No. But did Alice? Hm. And Alice is the good girl and Rosalie the bitc-... well, you know, because Rosalie's not "nice" and Alice "is." Hm.



• Breaking Dawn, Book III: Bella begs Edward to teach her some techniques for the impending Volturi confrontation. Does he listen? I answer that: no. So now she decides to attack Alec and then, for the love of G-d, Demetri, as an undisciplined newborn because it's too hard for Edward contemplating teaching her fighting because he doesn't want to see her in that light. See her shredded by Demetri? Oh, that's fine, but see her as ... what? Capable? Strong? A warrior who can fight back? Perish that thought! His Bella must be that Anne of Green Gables that she so did not wish to be (cf Eclipse, ch 20 "Compromise") and that he only ever saw her as.

Your counter-arguments are as follows, aren't they:

• Oh, but Edward loves Bella because he says he does.
  
  I answer that: no.
  
  So everything everybody says all the time is the truth, eh? I'll give you that Edward believes what he says here, but I will not give you that he loves Bella. No, he loves what he thinks that he thinks who Bella is, not Bella, herself, at all. There is a difference between love and infatuation. Edward was drawn to her because of her singing blood and then intrigued by the silence of her mind. But love? Show me that he shows her real respect, and then let's talk about love, baybee.


• Oh, but Edward wanted to marry her and everything before they, well, you know.
  
  I answer that: no.
  
  So, Bella was eager for the Altar? Edward wanted to marry Bella because Edward wanted to marry Bella. Bella's thoughts and feelings on this matter were brusquely brushed off.


• Oh, but Edward loves Bella because he knew he was bad for her and left her in New Moon! See, he does love her, because he does something totally unselfish, something entirely for her good, even as it crushes him to do it.
  
  I answer that: no.
  
  I actually already answered this one, but let's reopen this case.
  
  Edward left Bella because he thought he knew what was in her best interest. Obviously, he thought, she being a young mortal clueless girl, she has no idea what's good for her. After all, he has nearly a century on her. He's wise; she's not.
  
  The thing about wisdom ... it doesn't come for free because of some passage of some number of years. And wisdom might just be saying that "ya know, she was right, Edward, and you were wrong the last time, so you just may consider thinking outside your self-absorption ..." But wise Edward knows best. Knows this so well that he goes against what every single person tells him, leaving her defenseless with Victoria out and about with a definite grudge and an easy target. Hm. So, yah, he "loves" her because he (it turns out, literally) throws her to the wolves.


• Oh, but Edward really loved Bella after they were married and after she was changed because he became this lovey-dovey doormat that she was throughout the series and unrecognizable as Edward was in the three previous books and the first half of Breaking Dawn.
  
  I answer that: no.
  
  Love changes you? Sure. Love removes your spinal column? Sure, at times.
  
  Love blinds you to the person you love? No. That, my dear readers, is not love.
  
  Love is not blind. Only blind fools who have never loved say that. Love opens your eyes to the beloved, and you begin to see her, for the first time, every time, even just a little bit, for who she really is, and you love that person, because that person is real, not the chimera you've been deluding yourself into chasing.
  
  Spineless Edward, in Breaking Dawn, Book III, was just as guilty as self-absorbed Edward was, because Spineless Edward was just as blinded as self-absorbed Edward was to (now) his Bella. They both put her up on a pedestal.
  
  Sure, admire your beloved, but for what she is, how she is and who she is. Adore her, however? Idols are adored; persons are not. Idols are objects, but your beloved should not be objectified, for she is a person. Adore her, and you objectify her.

Sorry, folks, but "Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always preserves." [1 Cor 13:4-7]

So, I ask you, did Edward do any of these things? Or did he always and everywhere do the opposite?

Edward.

Men everywhere are so jealous of him because twenty-two million girls are saying to their BFs "But Edward would do ..."

Here's how to out-Edward Edward.

Your GF likes fig newtons. She doesn't care about the flowers. You like getting your girl flowers. Sure, get her flowers, but realize who you are getting the flowers for. You. So get her the fig newtons when you get her the flowers (which is, oh, at least monthly after you've been married for fourteen years ... not saying that I would know this from personal experience or anything ...).

Here's how to out-Edward Edward.

When your GF is talking to you about something, then think, for a second, that it means something to her, perhaps it's something important to her, even if she's talking about, not football, but, ick, girlie-girl stuff ... ya know, about relationships or some girl thing like that. Listen to her. Hear what she says. Say it back to her, so she knows somebody, oh, my G-d! listened to her for once in her life. Then consider what she said, and maybe not watch ESPN tonight but ... um, do the dishes after supper (I know! The horror!) and talk about her day for a change. And maybe not do what she's begging you, because, in this particular case, you must make a decision against her judgment or desire, but do consider her in your decision. Do. Edward never did, so when you do consider her words, you've done something for her that makes you better than she could possibly imagine.

Here's how to out-Edward Edward.

She likes to dress up and go to prom (exactly unlike Bella). You'd rather grind WoW. Get a tux and take her to prom, and turn off the cell phone, and, you know, hang with her. And dance with her. "Oh, but I can't dance." I "can't," either. They do have classes, you know. And you do love your girl, so you'll go to classes to teach yourself how to dance, and you'll do it for her, because you love her.

Here's how to out-Edward Edward.

Read her fan fiction and leave a positive review. For everybody to read. Even though you'd rather bathe in salt water and mustard after diving into a pool filled with broken glass.

Ich und Du.

Listening means more than letting the sound waves touch your ears ... even Edward does that. The person speaking is a person ... treat her as such, and you will out-Edward Edward.

Every single time.

Credo

I write.

I do not write things that make me sad.

No. I am sad, and from that sadness, I write. I write to cope, and I write to hope.

Neither of which I do very well at all.

Yes. I have no reason to be sad, and no excuses, either. But I am. This is how I am. This is what I am. This is what I write.

I am an unreasonable man, and the world ... well, the world doesn't like unreasonable men, and it doesn't change just because a wish is begging it to.

So I write.

Your Reviews

You do know what a writer of fan fiction feels when [predominantly:] she receives a review?  So many profiles on fanfiction.net and so many chapter notes on twilighted.net show how desperately appreciated reviews are.

Even one word reviews.  Even just one word of encouragement.

Do you know how an authoress feels when she receives a review?  She wants to receive another one.  She keeps checking her email.  She checks her watch.  Thirty seconds have gone by ... she checks her email.  No new reviews.

The high of getting those encouraging words are replaced, for a while, by despondency and despair.  But then she bucks up.  She knows there's only one sure way to get another review, and that is to publish that next chapter or story.  So she grits her teeth and looks at that G-D blank computer screen for hours.

But then she starts typing, and then she types some more, and then she gets into it, and the words start flowing, and she loses herself in it.  She gets lost in her world, and she gives herself over to it, completely, and she writes now, and she writes and she writes and she writes, and if she's truly lost to herself ... completely ... in this world, then, maybe there's something that touches a reader ... touches another girl somewhere in the world who needed to read that before she did something or before she didn't do something, and reading it make her stop or reading it helped her to go on and to go forward and to live and to read some more, and maybe even to write something and to share that with the world and to save another girl.

Do you know what your review does?  Maybe it helps an author to write one more chapter.  Maybe it helps a reader to read that new chapter and to love it and to decide: I need to do this.  The words are burning in my mouth, and I must spit them out onto my keyboard, and I must put that first chapter out there.  And she gets her first review ever.  And she knows, she finally knows, that she's alive.  She finally found her voice, she finally had something to say.  She finally had something to say to somebody who told her "luv ur story, update soon plz," and it gave her a reason to write her next chapter until she becomes accomplished and confident in what she writes, and that confident, accomplished writing touches someone's soul somewhere.

And that fire burning in her mouth inflames the heart of that soul that had turned cold or sullen or despairing.

Do you know what your review does?

Maybe it saves somebody's life, did you ever think of that? Maybe somebody was dead, even though they were punching their ticket at school or at work or at nowhere doing nothing, and your review encouraged a writer to write and what that writer wrote, because in part of your review, gave somebody hope.

Your review is hope, and that is the most precious commodity in the world.

And of the 80,000 members of twilighted.net only a quarter of them ever review a chapter.  You, by your review, have put yourself in the top quarter of all twilighted.

Now, your review doesn't make the writer write.  The writer writes, or the writer does not, no matter how good your review is, no matter how many entreaties she receives (and, boy, have I begged writers for their next chapter, and a year later ... nothing).

Frankly, although you may say in your review "update soon!" it is actually I who is the one who cannot wait to read the next chapter in my story.  What happens during quiet time?  And why, oh, why! is that next chapter not out yet? 

Won't somebody please write it?

Oh, that falls on me?

Why — oh, why! — can't I just be the reader and somebody else write "My Sister Rosalie"?

Writing is hard.  Writing is so, so, ... so very gut-wrenchingly hard.  I hate writing.  MSR's "Mirror, Mirror" nearly killed me.  "Vasilii" in "Thirteen Ways" nearly did me in.  And RLT?  OMR!  Nearly every single chapter was a finisher for me, except, of course, the birds and the bees talk by Gwendolyn.  Gotta love Rosalie's mother, ... no wonder she has such a twisted view of Esmé, eh?  And then Rosalie turns right around and becomes what her mother is to a totally innocent girl ... her maid, that is, but ... hm, that description fits for our Bella, too, now, doesn't it?

Since writing is hard, then why write? Well, there's the compulsion of it (I must write), there's the act of creating something that's tangible (I wrote that), there's the pleasure of reading something that you wanted to read (that's why you wrote it, no?), and there's the reviews where somebody, somewhere, finally said to you:

Good job!

How often do you hear that at home or at school or at work? And you have three reviews for your story that says "Good job!" ... isn't that three more times you've heard that, like, ever, like, in your life?

You write, no? If you do write, and you've received a review, then you know what it's like. If you don't write, then write! But if you're not yet ready to write, leave a review and trust me on this one, there is nothing like it, and you are giving the authoress a priceless treasure ... a priceless treasure that only costs you one mouse click and a few words.

Do you see what your review does? It breathes life into the authoress' story: she keeps writing because there are readers saying that they like reading it, and so the story does not die on the vine, but continues to grow, organically. Your reviews are the rain that water the plants; your reviews are the sun that allow the flowers of our stories to open to you.

So, write a review (again), please?

But what do I write in my review, geophf? you ask.

Glad you asked.

Here are the rules:

1. Doesn't matter, just select the "submit review" option when you finish the chapter — and not a second later — and write a review. Even if that review is just one word: "good" or "more" or whatever. You read the chapter, so write the review. Right now.


2. See rule number 1.

So those are the rules.

(*ahem*)

But there are a few lemmas to writing reviews. And they are these:

1. Every word you write is read by your employer or a judge of a twific contest you are entering. And, even though you are using an alias, they know it's you. So keep it clean and courteous. Don't believe me? I didn't either, until three employers laid out copies of everything I wrote on the 'net (including aliased works). Good thing I kept it clean.


2. A good review is any review. And any review is a good review. Full stop. A substantive review says something about this chapter and tells the authoress what you thought about that something or how you felt about it and why. A good review is nice; a substantive review may help the authoress write a better chapter next time.

How important are reviews? Oh, pretty, very, essentially important, I'd say.

Case in point. I was ready to pack it in: at the end of "Compulsion" chapter of MSR I was going to write "... and then Rosalie returned to find Bella dead. The end." Because why? Because I had just written ten chapters with no feedback even though I had one hundred readers per chapter. I figured, why continue if none of the readers were interested enough to comment on what I had poured my heart into?

But later, after I pushed through my despondency and continued writing, anyway, came out of that story the idea of "Thirteen Ways," and then I received a PM from an authoress saying that story had inspired her to write her own fiction. If I had quit, she wouldn't have read that story that wouldn't have existed, ... would she be writing now?

But eventually I did receive some encouragement and some reviews, and I did continue, and somebody did see something in that continuation that inspired them. That's what your reviews do: they encourage. Your reviews encourage, and they are so easy for you not to write, aren't they? "Oh, I'll get to that 'later.'" you say, where you know full well that 'later' eventually means 'never.' Don't say that and don't do that, please. All it takes is for you to hit the 'submit review' button, write some words, and, guaranteed from me at least, you'll get a thank-you PM response, and you'll have encouraged the writing you enjoy reading, and you'll show others that this particular work has something worthwhile in it to read.

When you review, you win (you get more chapters to read); the authoress wins (you send happiness to the authoress), and somebody else wins (you just may, indirectly, touch somebody else's life). A review is a win-win-win.

A review is full of win.

Thank you for your reviews. Please, please, please: keep'm comin', eh?

Writing and the "Real World"

You know, we writers love to complain. We love to complain how our jobs get in the way of our writing, how life gets in the way of our writing, and how our writing gets in the way of our writing.

Yeah, that last one. You ever get an idea, and that idea starts you writing, and that writing brings forth ideas that require whole new stories and whole new plot lines and whole new ...

Not that I'm talking from experience, or anything like that. But let's just say that my flagship story ("My Sister Rosalie") has gone from a one-shot to a three volume novel with three side stories of the first volume ("Rose by a Lemon Tree," "Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird," and (unpublished) "The Hurt Chair"). And the funny thing is the following: "My Sister Rosalie" was just an aside of my "main" idea about Lilly and Lucas in high school ... that I haven't gotten around to starting.

Ugh, I'm living a cliché: I'm a writer of a three-volume novel, just like Miss Prism in "The Importance of Being Earnest." I even write earnestly, for goodness sake!

As the French say: le Sigh!

But that pesky real world: where would we be without it? Isn't it amazing how life imitates art? For example, I write a chapter about Bella and (not-)blueberries ("Just Say It"), and come to find my cara spoza can't stand them in her oatmeal. Go figure!

Or, I write about economy and the Great Depression ("With the Depression On") and that recalls to me what my own grandfather went through during those troubled times.

Or, my meditations on what a vampire is (want), and isn't (angelic will), in an unpublished fragment that will, thankfully, never see the light of day, lead me to ruminations about, of all things, DDR.

I mean, seriously! The "real world" shows up all over the place, even in introductory snide side comments from our much put-upon vampire about gratitude.

So, writers, the next time you complain about the real world getting in the way of your writing, don't. Benjamin Franklin reminds us that he who does not have enough is silent, and he who has enough, complains (or: "It is the working man who is the happy man. It is the idle man who is the miserable man." This is Big Ben's reminder to me to stop complaining about writing and just get to the actual work of writing). After all, you have been given a gift. Who writes? Nearly nobody in the world writes, ... but you do. And, sometimes, even, your writing saves somebody from despair, or maybe even inspires somebody else to write. Only you can sing your song.

Sing it.

Learning from history: Efficacious Caius

The sad and beautiful thing about history, besides its existence and essence, is that 1) it repeats itself because 2) hardly anyone takes the time to study it and to learn from it. Vampires do need to study it and to learn from it, that is from the history that they themselves have not experienced, and the smart ones, like Jasper, do just that. A philosophy major vampire with his nose in a book? Those are the most dangerous kinds.

Take, for example, the Volturi. They are the most dangerous vampires in the world. Why? Because they know their history. Arguably the most dangerous one is the most ignored one: Caius. He knows how to get rid of problems: eliminate them. Period. And he follows the Rule to the letter, because he knows there's nothing more dangerous and unmanageable than a frenzied crowd. Aro could and should learn a lesson or two from Caius.

That's not saying he hasn't. Caius is one of the Three for a reason. Caius is no pawn. He knows the score: he just takes the most direct path, because he knows, from his three thousand years of experience, that most problems are most easily solved directly. Diplomacy? Pfft! Aro can play his games, but the cohesiveness of the Volturi is built from victory to victory. And behind most of those victories (besides the big public splash that Marcus made in the Carpathian suppression) is Caius with his very simple, straightforward and direct approach.

And Caius doesn't need to sing out his merits, because he knows that lack of attention isn't a bad thing at all: a lot can get done when nobody else is watching your every move (are you listening, Aro?). Vampires being out of the limelight isn't just because of the Rule (Caius: "Yes, it is!") but also because of all the other, accidental, benefits that flow from that inattention.

Mobs: unruly, undisciplined, ineffectual: dangerous because they are so chaotic.

The Volturi. Hm. Quite the opposite of a mob, aren't they! And they have been in power for more than three thousand years.

There's quite a bit people could learn from history. But then, they'd have to learn, now, wouldn't they? And that might interrupt their ESPN time.