Word Wenches

And we're racing...

Anne here, where it's Melbourne Cup time and horse racing is in the air. The Melbourne Cup a cultural phenomenon, unlike any other race in the world, I suspect — not because of the racing, not because it's the one of the richest turf races in the world but because of the way it touches people all over the country who normally have no interest in racing. 

The Melbourne Cup is billed as "the race that stops a nation" and it's not just advertising hype, it's actually a pretty fair description of the race that's a national institution. In Melbourne, where I live, Cup Day is a public holiday and has been since 1877.

On Cup Day  at 3 o'clock, the time of the race, hundreds of cars on freeways all over the country simply pull over (illegally) while the drivers listen to the race. 

In workplaces and social groups across Australia, people who normally never listen to or watch a horse race, who've never been to a racecourse or laid a bet in their lives, will participate in a Cup Day Sweep where, for a sum of money you get to pull a horse's name out of a hat. The money is divided between 1st, 2nd and 3rd, with a small prize for last. And at 3 o'clock they'll stop work to watch the race on TV or listen on the radio.

In Melbourne, people come from all over the world to attend the race. Locals will also go to the racecourse, some from the early morning for an event called "breakfast with the stars" — the stars being the horses— others to have champagne picnics in the car park out of their car boots. 

But most don't go to the racecourse, they have picnics and parties, where sweeps will be drawn and hats will be worn. Hats are a huge part of the Melbourne Cup -- ranging from the glamorous to the ridiculous, and worn by men and women. It's said the Melbourne milliners flourish because of the Cup.

Even those who don't go to parties still incorporate some Cup fun into their day. This year some of my writing buddies and I were on deadline so we didn't go a-partying, but we still had an on-line sweep and sent pictures of cyber hats.

I love the Melbourne Cup, and yet I've never been to it. Pretty much all I know about about horse racing is from Dick Francis novels and from a very funny comedy show on radio years ago, called Punter to Punter. So why does this particular horse race, of all the other races in the year, appeal to me and so many others? I think it's because this race, more than most, is about stories. And stories touch people in a way that simple racing and betting doesn't.

It started with the first Melbourne Cup, back in 1861, when Victoria was a brash new colony, flush with money from the 1850 Gold rushes. There were 17 starters and at that time the prize - apart from the money (170 pounds ) - was not a cup at all, but a hand - beaten gold watch. 

That first race was a dramatic affair: one horse bolted at the gate and three more fell during the race — two of them died and a jockey was injured. Archer, an outsider from Sydney won, and the crowd marveled when they heard that to prevent the theft of the valuable horse by bushrangers, Archer, had been walked all the way to Melbourne by back roads and across country, a distance of 500 miles (800km.)  At least, that was the story everyone was told. Recently it came out that in fact the horse was brought to Melbourne by ship, but by then the legend was well established. 

 Since then more legends have emerged and I think these stories are what keep it in the public imagination. That and the glamour and fun of it all.   

In order to attract a bigger crowd to the fledgling Cup, the first secretary of the Victorian Racing Club, Robert Bagot (c. 1828-1881) decided to issue members with two ladies tickets, calculating that "where ladies went, men would follow". This was to prove a stroke of genius, and added a great deal to the party atmosphere of the cup. 

Click on the link to see a marvelous image of the Melbourne Cup of 1889. You can see that sophistication isn't a recent phenomenon. But it's not just a day for the rich and glamorous; the fact that it's a public holiday and some fun traditions ensure Cup Day is "the people's day."

These days we have 'Fashions On The Field'  with hundreds of entries, from top models and celebrities, to office workers and suburban wives. It's judged by international fashionistas and substantial prizes are awarded for the best-dressed man and woman. It's also a dress-up day in other ways, people wearing outrageous or silly outfits, group outfits or simply shorts and t-shirt.

But it's not just the glamour and party atmosphere that makes the cup catch the imagination of a nation — after all,most people aren't dressed up and at the races — it's the stories associated with the cup, starting from Archer, and continuing, stories of hardship and sacrifice and great strokes of luck, and mysteries, and dreams shattered and dreams come true.

Probably the greatest of all is the story of Phar Lap, in his day, the most famous horse in the world.  It was the depression, and Phar Lap, an awkward looking colt who started his career with a few unpromising starts, won his first race and then went on a winning streak that caught the public imagination. He won 37 of 51 races he entered in his short racing career and became a huge favorite with punters. 

    He won the Melbourne Cup in 1930, despite the handicap of carrying a huge 138 lbs (61.5 kg.) The following year there was public outrage when the handicappers forced him to run carrying an unheard-of 150 pounds (68 kg) and he came eighth. 

     Phar Lap was then taken to race in North America, but he died there in mysterious circumstances — murdered by the Mob, it's said -- and the whole country grieved. Such was the regard he was held in that his body was brought back, his great heart preserved and on display in the National Museum, his skeleton returned to his birthplace, New Zealand, and his hide stuffed, and mounted in a glass case in the Melbourne Museum where, nearly eighty years later, it's still the most popular exhibit.

    There is a bronze statue of him at Flemington Racecourse (where the Melbourne Cup is run) and I once saw a drunken young man climb up on it, cheered on by his equally drunken friends. An old chap stormed at him; "Oy, you young lout!  That's sacrilege, that is, climbing up on Phar Lap. Get off him at once, d'ye hear me?"  And the young man meekly climbed down— and apologized. 

  But that's just one of the many stories that make the Melbourne Cup more than just a horse race. Each year there are more; stories of humans and horses, hopes and dreams, euphoria and heartbreak — what more could a lover of stories ask for?

    So what about you.  Do you like horse racing?  Is there a special horse race in your area? Or have you a racing experience to share? Tell us your story. And if you're an Aussie, tell us what you did on Cup Day.

Beauty and the beholder

Anne here, dipping into the question box again. RevMelinda asked about the concept of beauty:  how important is it that a hero/heroine be physically attractive?  What other character traits/meanings does beauty (or lack thereof) communicate to the reader?  What were historical standards of beauty and how do they differ from our own time? And how do you mediate this for the reader?

An interesting set of questions, RevMelinda. (And for this you've won a book from me.)

A glance at various portraits through the ages of the beauties of their times will show how perceptions of beauty have changed dramatically over time. I might refer that part of the question to Wench Susan, who's rather better read in art history than I am.

For me, in my books, there's an important difference between beauty and attractiveness. I do try to make my hero and heroine very attractive — to the reader and also to each other. As a writer of romances, I'm aware that part of the appeal for readers of that they witness and to a degree participate in the progress of the central romance. So it's very important to me that readers get that sense of "coup de foudre" — that initial attraction that strikes like a thunderbolt— if there is one, that is.  It might not  be love at first sight, but it is noticing at first sight.

That said, it's an attraction as much of personality as looks. My heroes aren't always handsome, and not always physically perfect — I've had a fair share of wounded or damaged heroes. But they're always attractive, especially to the heroine, and I hope to the reader. As for heroines, my preference is for them not to be beautiful. 

Usually the first meeting of hero and heroine shows something significant about them, and is not so much about looks as attitude and maybe also situation.
I introduced one hero entering a ballroom thus: He stood out like a battle-scarred tomcat in a sea of well-fed tabbies. Separateness was a key to his personality, and a kind of theme in the book.

With my first book for Berkley, The Perfect Rake, beauty, or the lack of it, was a kind of theme. The heroine was the plain oldest daughter in a family of beauties, and her lack of beauty and her sisters' abundance of it fueled the plot.  The hero was charming more than handsome, and the heroine was beautiful only to him. In fact it was one of his most endearing characteristics that he never saw the plain girl that everyone else did.

Beauty is so subjective. 

I think it's important for characters to rise beyond their looks, and for looks to play a minimal part in their eventual fate. I hadn't expected to be asked to turn The Perfect Rake into the first book of a series, so it really was an accident — and not a very welcome one for me — that I ended up with 3 beautiful heroines for the next 3 books. Stunningly beautiful heroines were something very new to me as a writer. However when I thought about it, I realized that even beautiful women are often insecure and tend to focus on their faults instead of their beauty — I know; I used to teach at a girl's high school, and even the most stunning girls never thought of themselves as beautiful. Moreover these three heroines had been raised by a harsh grandfather, and each had their own vulnerabilities, and strengths that arose from that, which are far more interesting.

I remember reading in a script writing text once that "handsome" and "beautiful"  are impossible to act, and I now quote it to people who do my romance writing classes. Looks aren't generally the issue, character is. And those girls had plenty of character. And the right men saw beyond their looks to the character beneath.

Of course the pursuit of beauty is an age-old concern, and in some books I've included some home-made beauty recipes. I've had heroines apply crushed strawberries to their skin, place raw veal on it, and attempt to bleach freckles (which were regarded as a bad flaw) with lemon juice. In my first book I had the heroine making cold cream (which the hero, mistaking it for something edible, tastes before she can stop him.) 

"Are you trying to poison me?" He grimaced again and scrubbed at his mouth with his handkerchief. "What was that foul stuff anyway?"
"Spermacetti oil, white wax, almond oil," she said, between giggles. "I haven't yet added the lemon oil and lemon juice."
 He choked. "Spermacetti oil? You were planning to feed me whale oil? That's for burning in lamps!"

There are some recipes for home made cold cream here.

 As a teenager I was fascinated by the various home-grown aids to beauty, so it was easy to incorporate them as needed into my books. Many of these are age old remedies and my guess is that most women have tried some of them at some stage.

There were lots of hair treatments, I remember. There was the egg wash, where you massaged a whole egg into your clean hair and left it for 15 minutes, rinsing out afterward with luke-warm water. I mustn't have rinsed it properly, as I remember that saturday walking to the station to catch a train and feeling the distinct waft of warm egg accompanying me. It wasn't as bad as the beer rinse. That promised thick glossy hair, and I went to some considerable trouble to sneak a glass of beer. The instructions said to let the beer dry in your hair, then rinse. After ten minutes in the sun, I smelled like a brewery so once again, I had to turn around, go home and scrub it all out.

I tried lemon rinses (good for blondes and oily hair) rosemary rinses, supposed to make it extra glossy, and vinegar rinses — they were all fine and smelled pleasant — even the vinegar.

As for the complexion, lightly beaten egg white and a squeeze of lemon juice is excellent for refining and tightening the skin. Smooth honey, or yoghurt on your skin, leave it for a while and then wash it off with cool water — it leaves it feeling softer.  A face pack of oatmeal and lemon juice tightens and refines skin. I remember one time I made a little muslin bag that I filled with oatmeal and used it to wash my face every morning. There is no end to the home remedies people used, and I like to use them in my books when appropriate. In my current manuscript the the heroine keeps bees, so I'm incorporating some age-old uses of honey and beeswax. 

 I've also got lots of old recipes for home made medicines -- some of which will curl your hair, I'm sure, if only metaphorically.  But I'll save them for another day.

So let's open the question to readers. How important is it to you that a hero/heroine be physically attractive?  What other character traits/meanings does beauty (or lack thereof) communicate to you?
And what home beauty remedies (if any) have you tried?

Ask A Wench — Secondary Characters

Hi all, Anne here, introducing a new occasional feature of Word Wenchery — Ask a Wench. As many of you know, we invite people to submit questions to the wenches, and if a wench chooses your question to answer, you'll win a free book.  We have a long list of these questions, however some are not sufficiently meaty to fill a whole blog. But we don't want to ignore you, so in "Ask a Wench" we'll pose just one question, and give a variety of wenchly responses to it. 

To start AAW off, we've chosen a question sent in by Susan Klinger: "Has there ever been a secondary character who has surprised you and sprung to life so forcefully that s/he has jumped up, grabbed you by the throat, and demanded his/her own book?"   (For this question Susan wins a copy of my latest book TO CATCH A BRIDE)

So, over to the wenches... 

Mary Jo said : Susan, my mental imagery is much less vivid than that—I tend to think in terms of “a secondary guy got really interesting and I wanted to work out his story,” but indeed, it happens regularly.  And it’s always a guy. <G> 

The first time this happened was in my very first book, The Diabolical Baron, when the semi-villainous cousin, Reginald Davenport, showed unexpected signs of decency and humor at the end.  Friends loved him because he was a bad boy, I pondered and realized his bad behavior always came when he’d been drinking, and voila!  I wrote my alcoholic book, The Rake and the Reformer.

On another occasion, the brother of the hero of Shattered Rainbows moved from wallpaper to three dimensions toward the end of the book.  Stephen Kenyon’s story became my death and dying romance, One Perfect Rose.  The whole plotline of running away from home and joining a traveling theater company was inspired by Stephen making a remark about “Shakespearean tragedy” in Shattered Rainbows. Who knew my duke loved the theater? <G>   
 
 And so it goes.  I don’t want to waste a good man! MJP.

Note from Anne: (There's an excerpt here from Shattered Rainbows)

 Andrea said:

You would think that we could make our secondary characters behave, but against all reason, they often manage to take on a life of their own. In my most recent trilogy, the three heroines—who were all trained at a secret school for female spies— were the stars. Or so I thought. However, Alexandr Orlov had  other ideas.

I had fully intended to keep him in the shadows, playing the role of a cynical nobleman whose motives are shrouded in mystery. He was meant merely to tease, to tantalize the heroines with hints that he might be in league with the villain they sought. Did he stay in character? Hell, no. He displayed such rakish wit, seductive charm  and swashbuckling charisma that when it came to writing the second book of the series, I simply couldn’t refuse his demand to strut his stuff (he’s a rather cocky fellow) as the leading man.

As it turned out that I was wise to listen to his husky murmurs—he’s turned out to be one of my favorite heroes. (You may read his story in ‘Seduced By A Spy’, written under my Andrea Pickens nom de plume. There's an excerpt here.)

From Pat

Over the years, I’ve had a number of secondary characters spring to life and demand their own books. Sometimes I could oblige. Others, I unfortunately could not. I’d have to say one of the most forceful of those characters was Aidan in my MAGIC series. He simply walked out of the mists, onto the page, and completely took over a scene I was writing. I had no idea he existed until then, and over the course of the six-book series, he was enigmatic, mysterious, and thoroughly fascinating until I had no choice but to tell his story.  I love it when that happens!

From Anne:

I always have trouble with secondary characters wanting to take over a book or a scene and I usually have to prune them back. I have particular trouble with eccentric dowagers, although they don't usually demand their own stories.  But I have had secondary characters demanding their own stories, and, as Mary Jo said, it's usually a man who does it, though not always. (I once had a small girl who wanted her own story once she grew up. She got it in Perfect Kiss, the fourth book in a series advertised as a trilogy.)

 It even happened with the very first book I wrote (Gallant Waif) when the hero's best friend arrived on the scene and started to act heroic. In fact I had to prune him back quite severely so he didn't out-hero the hero!

I went to write his story in the next book, but the heroine I'd picked wasn't right for him and that hero morphed into someone different. I tried several more times and each time, because the heroine wasn't right for him, he morphed into someone else. It was very annoying because at the same time he (and readers) kept asking for his story.

I was talking about this with a writer friend of mine and she said: "Francis is so self-assured and in control — what he needs is a heroine who doesn't play by his rules." And she was right.  Almost instantly a heroine popped into my head; a dusty little street-urchin who was a long lost daughter of an aristocratic family. And when my cool, in-command hero attempts to rescue her, she refuses — for very good reasons. So I had my heroine and the bones of my story, but I'd left that publisher and had started a new series by then.

However that story and that hero and heroine kept nagging at me to be written, so I changed his name, gave him a slightly different background and friends, and put him in my new book, with the heroine I'd dreamed up for him all those years ago. The book is called TO CATCH A BRIDE, he's now called Rafe, but in many ways, he's the same character, and finally his story has been told, and I'm so pleased it has. If you want to read an excerpt click here.

So it seems a number of us have encountered secondary characters who demand a book of their own, contrary to our initial plans for them. And some of those characters have got their books, others haven't.

What about you? Have you encountered (or written) any secondary characters who you'd love to see in a book of their own? And which is your favorite secondary-character-to-hero story? I think mine is Dancing With Clara, an old Mary Balogh book, where Frederick, the bad guy from Tempting Harriet becomes the hero.

Honorary Word Wenches: Jeane Westin & Linda Fildew

Anne here, confessing that in the past few months I've been remiss in my duties to my guests. 

When I hosted Jeane Westin, author of the Elizabethan Historical Novel, THE VIRGIN'S DAUGHTERS,  as a guest here on Word Wenches, I thanked her, but I forgot to usherJeane into the ranks of that very exclusive group, Honorary Word Wenches.

Jeane, thank you so much for joining us on Word Wenches. The insights you gave us into the Elizabethan court were fascinating and I'm sure by now many or our readers have read and enjoyed THE VIRGIN'S DAUGHTERS. For your wenchly gift I  scoured the net and found you this beautiful embroidered Elizabethan style ruff, made by Amanda Kettlewell of the Embroiderers Guild.

Linda Fildew, thank you also for enlightening our wenchly readers about the delights of Harlequin Historical novels, in all their forms, and how to submit manuscripts. I know many of our readers were delighted to find a new source of books, and some new authors. I am delighted to usher you into the ranks of Honorary Word Wenches. 

Since I know you're the adventurous traveller type, I've chosen for your gift a trip to the Australian Outback, in the selfish hope that I'll get to catch up with you again.  

As Honorary Word Wenches, you are both, of course, entitled to put the initials H.W.W. after your name, to impress some and mystify others. <G>

Historical beekeeping

Anne here, writing about beekeeping.

Keeping bees has been in my family for generations - not as specialist apiarists, but in the same way people used to keep poultry and have a couple of fruit trees and a vegetable patch. We had all of those, and also bees. My great-grandparents were farmers and kept bees as a matter of course, but even after suburbanization, we continued with the bees. And although my parents and grandparents and various relatives had at least one or two hives in the back yard, and a normal sized hive (if there is such a thing) contains around 20,000 bees, I was hardly ever stung. 

So for many years I took bees for granted, and I stuck mainly to the eating honey side of things (which I'm pretty good at.) I'd never eaten bought honey in my life. However, eventually I found myself in a situation where my grandfather was long dead, my dad was too sick to handle the bees any more and I was running out of honey. I wanted to learn how to keep bees... but being busy, I put it off. 

Then the universe gave me a nudge when a swarm of bees landed in a tree in my garden. That's when I realized that despite my heritage, I knew nothing about keeping bees. My learning curve began. (The story of how I collected that swarm is here.  It involves a smoking dog food can, safety lace and I malign an innocent neighbor.) 

People who know about me and my bees have asked me, "When are you going to put a beekeeper in a book?" And until recently, I've muttered something vague and changed the subject, but now my current heroine has declared she keeps bees and so the time has come...

The thing is, people are remarkably romantic about the good old days of beekeeping, and they wax lyrical about the beautiful straw or willow skeps, shaped like "a proper beehive" instead of square modern wooden boxes. And the skeps are beautiful. But the old ways weren't exactly the good old days for bees.

In the wild, bees will nest in hollow logs and other cavities. They build honey comb from wax they make themselves, building it in long twisty sheets and lines, curving it into whatever shape will fit, leaving just enough space between the sheets for a bee to move. This is called "bee-space' and it's the same sized space, no matter where the bees build or how large or small the hive is. Wild honey comb is twisty and irregular shaped. Here are some examples.

Before the invention of moveable framed hives in 1851, bees were kept in a variety of containers including clay pots, hollow logs, and wooden boxes. However, one of the most common was a straw skep. 

Skeps are domed baskets woven from willow or straw or some similar material.They sometimes have sticks or frames for the bees to build the honeycomb from. In this picture of an upturned skep, (from this excellent site) you can see the sticks and the new-made white beeswax. The fresher the beeswax, the paler the color. 

When their home gets crowded, bees will fix the problem by splitting the hive. First the worker bees start to breed up a few new queens by feeding the chosen brood on royal jelly. The old queen and a bunch of her workers leave the hive and go in search of a new home, leaving the hatching brood with the rest of the workers along with plenty of food. This happens on fine, warm days in late spring and summer.

In the olden days, part of the beekeeper's usual routine was to catch new swarms from the forest or wherever, and transfer them to their own hive. In a straw skep the bees will make the combs in a wild fashion that's  still beautifully ordered to bees needs, but will be folded and twisted and all joined up and where brood, pollen, honey and bees are all mixed up. Like the picture below. Eggs, larvae, young bees, pollen and honey all in together, and the queen will be in the middle. The only way to get the honey is to destroy the hive. 

Many did this by simply killing the bees, with sulphur or by other methods. Of course many beekeepers tried not to kill the bees — they tried to drive them away with smoke, but it's not easy to do this — bees will not abandon their queen. Some beekeepers robbed the hive by cutting off some of the comb and hoping the queen was not caught in that section of the hive and others tried to minimize the destruction with various ingenious hive designs. But it wasn't until the invention of the modern removable framed hive that honey could be harvested without damage to the hive.

Everything bees produce is valuable —  wax, honey, pollen, propolis (which they use to seal holes or fill gaps in the hive) and royal jelly, so for many beekeepers in the past, the entire hive was the harvest, not just the honey, so hive destruction was inevitable. The wax was almost as valuable as the honey, and besides, more swarms could always be caught in the forest.

They used to break up the honeycomb and let the honey drain through fine linen. This was the best quality honey. Then they'd squeeze the honey from the comb —  this was lesser quality honey, and finally they'd press it for the lowest quality honey. Then they'd melt the wax, and the sediments —  dust, brood, pollen etc would sink to the bottom, while the purest wax would float to the top. Beeswax has multiple uses —  in cosmetic preparations, medicine, furniture making, candles —  the most expensive candles were of beeswax—  and much more.

Beehives weren't just valued for the honey and wax, though. Bees pollenate the flowers and while in the past they might not understand how it all worked, they did know that when there were plenty of bees, good harvests followed. So people kept bees on small farms and even on grand estates, and because (I'm talking about the UK here) winters were cold they built bee houses and bee shelters to keep the hives in. Here are some examples. They range from small rustic shelters like that on the left, to grand, purpose-built constructions like the one on the right.

Beekeeping has moved a long way since those days. It's a lot more scientific and humane. In modern hives, the bees make honey comb on straight, flat removable frames, and the beekeeper manipulates the frames to his own purpose, excluding the queen from the areas where honey is stored so the brood is laid in the lower frames while the honey is stored in the higher ones.  The beekeeper takes away the honey filled frames, replacing them with empty frames. They slice the top of the wax comb off —  the caps — and spin the honey out. The frames are left intact and put back in the hive, the bees clean up the honey and reuse the comb. The wax from the sliced-off caps is processed and sold, or recycled to make new bases for comb. There's less waste and the disturbance to bees is minimal.

I could go on forever, but I won't ;) So let's chat. Do you have a bee story? Are you scared of bees? Allergic? Have friends or relatives who keep them? Do you tell the bees your news? Do you like honey?  Or if you have any questions, ask and I'll do my best to answer them.

Guests and a New Feature

Good morning!  We have a fun October planned for our readers here at the Word Wenches, starting with:

Oct. 9 - Mary Jo will interview guest Shobhan Bantwal.  Shobhan refers to her stories as "Bollywood in a book."  Her books are romantic, colorful, action-packed tales that are rich with elements of Indian culture.

Oct. 16 - Susie Felber, Edith Layton's daughter, will visit the Wenches to talk about Edith's last book, To Love a Wicked Lord (Avon, 10/27), completed shortly before she passed away earlier this year. 

Oct. 19 - Ask-a-Wench debuts.  Each month, we will take one (or more) question(s) posed by our readers and discuss these questions in a blog.  Questions can come from any number of sources:  from your replies left in the comments section, from our master list of blog topics suggested by readers, and even from your e-mails.  (To submit questions via e-mail, send a message to our site manager/den mother, Sherrie Holmes.)  Anne will be hosting the first Ask-a-Wench, and has already chosen a few related questions gleaned from readers.  Other Wenches may contribute to AAW posts, depending on the questions.  We enjoy interacting with our readers and felt this would be a great opportunity for lively discussion.

So mark your calendars!  We have a busy October lined up.

Jo's Virtual Housewarming Party

This is a group blog from all of us. 

Blame it on Mercury retrograde--the planets decided to mess with the Wenches, and we've had to reschedule today's post by Candice Hern (Part III of her great series on women's fashion magazines).  So heads up:  Candice will appear this Friday. 

And today?

Well, as you know, our nomadic Wench, Jo, has moved back to England, and she'll be settling into her new house (photo below) in Whitby on October the 2nd.  So the Wenches got together and threw a virtual

housewarming party for her.  We had so much fun today that we decided to open it up to our readers!  Feel free to let your imagination run wild.  Post your virtual housewarming gift (click on "comments" at the bottom of this post.)  While you won't be able to include pictures, you can use your fertile imaginations to describe your gift, or provide a link to a picture of the gift.

To get you started, here's what some of the Wenches (and 1 lowly administrator) have given to Jo:

Pat Rice:  An elegant, wood-paneled library and a comfy leather club chair to go in it.

 

Mary Jo Putney:  Along with Pat's library, I offer this velvet cloak to keep her warm as the icy winds blow in off the North Sea. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Anne Gracie:  I send her a walled secret garden [and gardener], so she can have a lovely wind- free place to sit in the sun and read, or snip herbs for her cooking or simply be.

 

(That's the "gardener" on the left)

 

 

Andrea Pickens/Cara Elliott:  Jo, here's a little something for exploring the North Sea coastline. [and your own personal Horatio Hornblower to captain it]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sherrie Holmes: a butler, a maid, and a cat. The butler will keep your household running smoothly, the maid will keep things tidy, and the cat will keep your lap warm.

Now it's your turn!  Money's no object, since these gifts are virtual.

Book clubs

Anne here, pondering book clubs.  
Years ago a friend invited me to join her book club. I refused. Nicely, but firmly. 

"Too much like my work," I said, attempting diplomacy. At the time I was teaching English and English Literature and the thought of reading and discussing worthy books that other people chose — in my own time! — was not my idea of fun. In those days any time I had for free reading was precious and I wanted it to be entirely untrammeled, unregulated and with no need to justify my choices to anyone.

"But it's great. It makes me read," my friend said. "I have to read books that I otherwise wouldn't. It's good for me."

I shuddered. Spare me books that are good for me. Too Victorian-era for words. Besides, I don't need anything to make me read. I read constantly and always have. To me reading is a joy, not an ought-to-do. 

"It's fun," my friend persisted. "We all meet at each other's places and bring food. You'll make new friends." 

"Sorry I just don't have the time," I lied.

And for years I've maintained that position. That original book club has continued to flourish and once a month my friend reads her book (or not) and happily heads off to the meeting. It's a social occasion as much as anything and over the years strangers have become good friends. And I've met some of them socially and they're lovely. But I'm not sorry I refused the invitation.

I can't claim to be entirely outside the bounds of book clubs. I've been a member of an on-line Georgette Heyer reading group for more than ten years. But I've read and reread all the Heyers so often it doesn't really count. I join in the discussion if I feel like it and remain silent a good part of the time. 

I'm not saying I don't enjoy discussions about books. I love books and love talking about them with other people. It's the organizing of it I recoil from. Oh, I know if you're in a group you need to be practical, but for me planning to read in advance takes the joy out of it. I usually have several books on the go at any one time, and a teetering to-be-read pile standing by to tempt me to stray if the mood strikes for something different. 

Most people assume the book club is a fairly modern phenomenon, and in some ways it is. Certainly book clubs are more popular now than ever, nourished by the internet, but it's by no means a new thing.

According to Lisa Rufle,  the origin of the bookclub can be can be traced back as early as the 1720s.  And K.A. Manley writing about the Sedbergh Book Club (1728—1928) here said: "Country book clubs...mark a transition between the informal lending of books among friends and neighbours and the desire to instiutionalize and formalize such a practice." He (she?) adds: "Reading is a personal and intense experience, but the book club added a social and sociable, dimension."

The earliest documented book club existed in Meppershall, Bedfordshire in 1704 and contained twelve gentlemen who subscribed one pound annually and divided the books among themselves at the end of each year. Since this is the first documented book club, it's very likely that others existed in earlier times, but as Manley points out, "the idea of a group of men meeting in private to discuss the latest productions of the printing presses would have been considered subversive, and, in the previous century, heretical."

In the Regency era, circulating libraries were extremely popular, and formal and informal gatherings of readers to discuss the latest offerings became common. 

Rachel Jacobsohn, author of The Reading Group Handbook, wrote about a reading group comprised of " white glove-wearing, hat-wearing, tea-drinking, elitist old white women" from the late 1800s. This exclusive group was restricted to members who inherited a place among the coveted club. These early book clubs were formed for a mix of educational and social purposes, and were exclusive, open only to the educated, moneyed classes. (Pic: Olathe Ladies Reading Circle, now celebrating its 125th anniversary.)

However I would argue that there was another kind of book club, where ordinary unprivileged people gathered to share and discuss a story. These were people who could not read, who came together so that an educated reader could read aloud to them.  

The stories of Charles Dickens are a case in point. They were serialized, and as each new episode was released, unlettered folk would gather to hear it read,  perhaps as they were working, perhaps in a tavern, or in someone's home. Being read aloud to was a common pastime then, for all walks of life, and you can be sure the listeners would discuss each episode thoroughly afterward.

Dickens, knowing this widespread practice, wrote with that in mind, honing his writing to sound well to the ear, to conjure up images that would be taken up by listeners, by using punctuation and spelling to assist the reader to grasp the accents and expressions of the characters, and  by using life-like dialogue to bring alive the characters to a greater extent than many writers before him. It certainly expanded his fame far beyond an audience of educated readers.

It wasn't only fiction that was spread this way. The Mechanics Institute Movement was begun in 1799 when Dr George Birkbeck conducted a series of free lectures for the working men of Glasgow. (In those days "mechanic" meant any man who worked with his hands -- ie an artisan or tradesman. The movement spread throughout the British Empire, as well as the USA, and part of the program was the reading and discussion of books, ideas and technical matters in groups, for literacy was still an uncommon skill for working people. (Pic: Cigar Makers Being Read To in a Cuban cigar factory. Ca. 1900-1910.)

So book clubs have a long, varied and honorable history. I can appreciate their benefits, in the past and now, but I've never been tempted to join one -- until recently. 

I can't quite believe it, but not only have I joined a book club, I actually seem to have started it. It came about when a small group of authors I communicate on line with decided we'd like to push our reading boundaries a little, and discuss some books as writers, not just readers. So there it is; I now belong to a book club and have to eat my words as well as read them.

So do you belong to a book club? If so, tell us about it.  Is it organized formally or informally? Is it internet based or face to face. What do you like about it?
Or are you still going it alone, reading as the whim takes you, unregulated, untrammeled and free?

To Catch a Bride: An Interview with Anne Gracie

by Mary Jo 

Anne, you’ve been on quite a roll lately!  At the August Romance Writers of Australia conference in Brisbane, you were the essential member of the all day workshop on storytelling we did together (I’d have been helpless without your teacher skills); you were presented with the organization’s service award for the year: and then you won the Ruby award (RWAust’s RITA) for best long romance of 2008 for The Stolen Princess, first in your Devil Riders Regency historical series.
 
Then while you were recovering from the conference, word arrived that Library Journal had given you a starred review for your new September release, To Catch a Bride.  Way to go!  Among other things, LJ said:
 
“English Regency society and the back streets of early 19th-century Cairo spring to vibrant life in this enthralling and thought-provoking tale of survival, secrets, and social class.   VERDICT: Threaded with charm and humor, this action-rich, emotionally compelling story is the third in Gracie's popular "Devil Riders" series. Though it stands on its own, it is sure to entice readers to read the others.” 
 
MJP:   Having been fortunate to read the book early, I couldn’t agree more.  So, for starters, can you tell us about your Devil Riders series?  How did you come up with it, how long will it be, are there any ongoing themes?
 
AG: Thanks, Mary Jo. I wanted to do a series about four men, friends since school, who'd been at war together. When I discussed it with my editor, she suggested I make all the men younger sons, who not only had to adjust to peacetime, but who had to make their own way in the world. It's strayed a little from that beginning -- as you know, characters tend to have a life of their own once they hit the page. The series was originally supposed to be four books, but it might stretch to more. I don't know yet.  My publisher will decide on that. I have no shortage of stories. Or heroes.

As for themes, I don't consciously set out to write books with themes, I just work on characterization and plot. But redemption through love is often a theme that crops up in my work.
 
MJP:  Can you tell us about To Catch a Bride?
 
AG: It's a story about Rafe, a younger son who grew up estranged from his father and older brother. Now his brother, the Earl of Axbridge, married for ten years but childless, has urged Rafe to marry. It's Rafe's duty to provide the next generation, the son who will eventually inherit the title. (After the Earl, then Rafe dies.)

Rafe agrees, but then discovers his brother has made an unholy bargain with his bride-to-be. So on a whim, he agrees to look for the long-lost granddaughter of Lady Cleeve -- she's missing in Egypt. All he has is this sketch of her, when she was 12.
 
 MJP:  I adore exotic settings, and loved that part of TCAB is set in Cairo.  The setting seemed very authentic to me.  How hard was it to research?
 
AG: Research is a mix of so many factors. For a start, I had visited Egypt briefly when I was a child, and my father was there as a young man, so I have photos from that time and an echo of sensory details. Mostly I used travellers' diaries from the Regency period and books published about Egypt at that time. And I use maps — I love maps —and images such as engravings and paintings of the period to help me imagine that world. I use a lot of images -- I made a really spectacular collage for this story, but I can't show it because it gives too much of the story away. Here are a couple of images that helped me.
 
MJP:  Were there any Really Cool Facts that turned up in your research, but you couldn’t fit them into the story?  If so, now is your chance to tell us about them!
 
AG: I became really interested in attitudes to the plague. Yes, the plague -- bubonic plague that wiped out half of Europe a few centuries before. It still um... plagued Egypt during Regency times -- I knew there was disease, but I hadn't realized it was the actual plague.

I became fascinated by the factions that had formed around beliefs as to how one caught/prevented it. Some contemporary accounts refer with utter scorn to the ridiculous notions of contagionists, and there were all sorts of mad (to us now) beliefs about how you caught it and how to prevent it. Pretty much everyone, from all factions, was agreed that there was no cure for it, once caught.

I also came up with a Really Cool Cat that I did manage to incorporate into the story.  ;) An Egyptian Mau cat - the breed wasn't established as such, but the antecedents of the Mau were there (and Mau is Egyptian for cat) and when I saw this picture, I couldn't resist.  
 
MJP: The hero, Rafe Ramsey, received a well-deserved KISS award from Romantic Times magazine.  Was he challenging to write?
 
AG: Not really. As all good heroes are, he was a bit recalcitrant at times, but once I stopped trying to make him do what he didn't want to do, he moved along just fine. I love writing the sort of hero who thinks he's in perfect control of his life. It's so much fun when he meets the heroine and suddenly his well-ordered world turns upside down. And Rafe is lovely -- he's so cool and elegant and buttoned-down, and yet so protective and honorable.  
 
MJP:  The heroine, Ayisha, is a rare handful.  Was she a challenge to develop, or did she spring into your mind fully formed? 
 
AG: Pretty much fully formed. I was talking to a friend of mine about Rafe  and the kind of heroine who'd bring out the best in him, and she said, he's always cool, and in control. What you need is the sort of girl he's never had to deal with, who doesn't play by his rules. And suddenly Ayisha sprang into life. She's had a tough life, and she's got serious secrets -- the kind of thing that could destroy her. But she has a wonderful zest for life, and she battles to make a good life for herself and those she loves. She's very loyal and loving and she and Rafe are really made for each other -- though neither one of them realizes it at first.
  
MJP:  What’s are you working on now? 
 
AG: I'm writing Nash's story. I'd started the fourth story of the series and realized by the end of the first chapter that this hero wasn't Luke at all, but was Nash. It's a lighter story — Nash is a bit of a bad boy. The way he's shaping up, he's a little bit like Gideon in Perfect Rake. Possibly naughtier. And the heroine keeps bees. Being a beekeeper myself, I've always wanted to write a story with bees in it, but you can't force these things. I was well into this story when I suddenly realized she kept bees. 
 
MJP: Here’s an excerpt which gives a good idea about Rafe and Ayisha: 

He felt her body soften under his. Rafe relaxed. The skirmish was over. Miss Cleeve had decided to be sensible.



"Having exchanged compliments, I suppose I should introduce myself. Rafe Ramsey, at your service." He released her and started to sit up.



A mistake. The moment she felt him shift off her, she exploded into action. He wrestled her back down beneath him. In three seconds he had her pinned under him again, only not quite so neatly this time. Lord, but the girl was all bones. And piss and vinegar.



"This is extremely tiresome of you, you know. I mean you no harm."



"You'll break my arm," she growled.



"Probably," he agreed. "If you keep struggling like that. It won't be intentional on my part — "



At that moment a ray of moonlight lit her face. Rafe stared at his prisoner. She was... lovely. Her eyes were rather fine — blue, or green, or somewhere in between — fringed with dark lashes and set at an intriguing angle. Her nose was small and straight, her lips full and lush. And her skin, under the truly amazing amount of dirt, felt soft and smooth.



"My God," he whispered. "What a rare little beauty."



She jerked her head back and biffed him on the nose, hard. 



"Oof!" It hurt like the very devil. He had to hand it to the little demon. She didn't give up easily. Without letting go of her wrists, he managed to plant an arm over her head and held it pressed to the floor. His nose ached. His eyes watered.



She gave him a smug look.



"Whoever brought Cleopatra to Rome wrapped in a rug knew his business," he told her with feeling. 



The rather fine green eyes narrowed to furious cat-slits.

the full extract is here:

http://www.annegracie.com/books/CatchaBride.html  

:
MJP:  Any final words about the book?
 
AG: I had a lot of fun writing this one. I hope people like it. I'm a little worried about readers reactions to the Egyptian setting, which is a fair part of the book. I love the occasional venture into other countries, but I'm told many readers hate foreign settings in books. What do you think? Do you like or dislike unusual settings, and why?

MJP:  Anne will be giving away a signed copy of To Catch A Bride to someone who comments on this post by midnight Thursday.  Happy reading!
 

Guest - Anne Gracie

Happy day-before-Labor-Day to our American readers!

This Wednesday, 9/9, Mary Jo interviews Anne in conjunction with the September release of Anne's To Catch a Bride.  Join us Wednesday as two Wenches talk about a most unusual English heroine who grew up on the streets of Egypt . . . as a boy.

Interview with Linda Fildew, Senior Editor Harlequin Historical.

 Anne here, with an interview with my last editor at Harlequin, Linda Fildew. Based at the London office of Harlequin Enterprises, Linda is the editor in charge of Harlequin Historical (Nth America) and Mills and Boon Historical (UK.) The historicals have huge world-wide appeal and come out in a range of countries. 
 Linda, welcome!

Thank you for inviting me on to the Word Wenches blog, Anne.  I’m looking forward to answering as many questions as I can.  

Linda, you’ve worked at Mills & Boon for many years. Can you tell us how you started out and how things have changed in that time?

I came to publishing because of a love of books, and I’ve been at Harlequin Mills & Boon all my working life.  Quite amazing, I know!  I joined just as Mills & Boon launched its historical programme, then called Masquerade, and was part of the team which got this off the ground. I still have a photo of myself dressed in Regency costume at the launch party!  I’ve worked in a number of editorial acquisition roles on the contemporary side of the business and am most happy to be back now with my first love, Historicals, where I am Senior Editor.  This means I have responsibility for the acquisition of between 72-82 original historical books a year which first appear across North America’s Harlequin Historical and UK’s Mills & Boon Historical lines.  Mills & Boon in Australia and other countries make their selection from these books. Harlequin is a global company, so keeping in mind what has worldwide appeal is an important part of the acquisition process.  

There have been a number of big changes during my working life.  When I joined the company John and Alan Boon (sons of the one of the founders) were very much in evidence as Chairman and Editorial Director.  The staff were all crammed into small premises in London’s Foley Street and the Post Office Tower was perfectly placed just around the corner for author lunches.  The company was growing apace even then and, now, we reside in leafy Richmond, on the edge of London, close to a beautiful stretch of the river Thames.  We’re part of Harlequin Enterprises which is the world’s leading publisher of romantic fiction.  One of the biggest editorial changes I’ve seen is the way the hero has evolved over time.  When stories were seen almost exclusively from the heroine’s perspective the hero, of necessity, was often aloof and enigmatic.  Over time he has come to reveal more of his own thoughts which has had the effect of creating a much more three-dimensional character, although I have to confess there’s a lot to be said for the occasional hero who doesn’t give much away!

The romance market is always developing and changing.  What are you looking for now in historicals?  And what are your own particular preferences?

What remain ever-popular are historicals set in Regency times.  The love of authors such as Jane Austen and Georgette Heyer never fades so this successfully keeps feeding reader appetite for this time period.  In North America Westerns are key performers while in our Overseas markets, such as Japan and Italy, Medievals are highly popular.  
 We’re happy to consider a wide variety of time periods from Ancient Civilisations – such as Greece, Rome and Egypt - up to and including the Second World War.  In a nutshell, what we’re looking for are well paced, well characterised, well researched, emotionally intense stories where the main focus is on the developing relationship between the hero and heroine.  I do have a soft spot for sexy Viking heroes, myself, and embittered, battle-scarred loners be they warriors or outcasts from the Regency ton.  

M&B historicals have a reputation for being flexible and wide-ranging in the time settings accepted -- a boon (no pun intended) for the reader looking for something different.  In fact at the recent RWA conference in Washington, I heard a Golden Heart winner tell people that she'd been warned she'd never sell that setting, but that  Mills & Boon bought it. And Mills & Boon were the first to take a chance on Diane Gaston's controversial book with a courtesan heroine -- and now everyone's doing it. So what settings do you accept?

As already mentioned, we are open to strong storylines well told.  We will seriously consider stories which break boundaries as long as the writing convinces us that the journey into, for example, the Regency underworld or into less familiar Asian cultures will be an exciting and emotionally rewarding one. 

Who are some rising stars in HH?  The exciting new voices people should look for.  We already know about Nicola Cornick. 

 

All of our authors are stars!  I would like to highlight some outstanding authors who are published this month in North America.  Carole Mortimer – celebrating publication of her 150th Presents book this year – is now also contributing to the historical line.  THE DUKE’S CINDERELLA BRIDE is the first in a Regency quartet about The Notorious St Claires.  We’re very pleased to welcome Carole to the line and know you’ll find her Regency Rake heroes sinfully delicious. 
Louise Allen’s THE PIRATICAL MISS RAVENHURST is the final tale in her six-book family miniseries.  Warm wit and sensuality combine to make this a special book.  Blythe Gifford’s Medieval  IN THE MASTER’S BED features a heroine who dresses as a young man to attain the independence she so desires.  She doesn’t foresee her attraction to Duncan, who stirs unknown but delightful sensations in her highly receptive, very feminine body!
 Kathryn Albright writes a wonderfully emotional story with a Western setting.  TEXAS WEDDING FOR THEIR BABY’S SAKE features a war-shattered hero (a Linda favourite!) who feels he no longer fits into society – until his fiancée tracks him down and proves that he has all to live for… 

I hope I’ve whetted your appetite to sample these and other Harlequin Mills & Boon novels. These can be found on www.eHarlequin.com and www.millsandboon.co.uk    as print and also eBooks.  We are constantly adding to our ebook backlist so you can now go and download books you might have missed out on.  

I'm drooling at the delicious covers. And I'm so pleased about the backlist coming out in e-books -- it might be the nudge I need to get me to buy an e-reader. 
As well as readers, we have a number of aspiring writers who visit this blog regularly. What are some of the problems you see in manuscripts that come to you?

Lack of research is a key one.  Historical readers love to pick up a book, enter into the story and really feel as if they are there.  Authors need to do enough research so that the background feels authentic without the story seeming like a historical text book.  It’s a fine line to walk.  I always think the hardest part for an author must be to decide what gets to stay in the story and what must be cut out to help pacing and bring the focus back to the all-vital developing relationship between the hero and heroine.  

Some stories can feel claustrophobic set within one Regency family home, or one Norman castle’s walls because the author hasn’t the confidence to go beyond them.  You don’t have to know all the politics of the day, but some social context is necessary because readers love to feel they’ve learnt something about the period along with enjoying the romance. 

To turn this round, what I want to see is a storyline where you can tell the author is in love with her characters. There's a depth to their personalities which shows that the writer has got to know them intimately and understands what motivates and drives them. It's how the hero and heroine interact that is key to a good historical romance. The authentic background is important, but it's the developing relationship between your main protagonists that is key. Take the reader into their world and hold them there with good pacing, natural dialogue, intense emotion, and a strong storyline.

What new developments are happening in HH?  I’ve heard about the Undone series of short e-books.  Would you care to explain more?

Undone is an exciting new venture for Harlequin Historical! Launched November 1, 2008, these short, sexy, scandalous stories appear in ebook format. Available from eharlequin and other ebook distributors. The length is between 10 and 15,000 words, and we encourage submissions for any time period. We've widened our horizons and are also encouraging paranormal and time travel stories. We are looking for a high level of sensuality that flows naturally out of the plotline. There should be a strong emotional basis to the heightened attraction--it's vital the reader can believe in the intense emotion driving the characters as their relationship develops. These stories should be hot, sexy, and subtly explicit without the lovemaking being vulgar or gratuitous. Full guidelines are on eHarlequin's and millsandboon’s websites. 
 We launched with 4 Undones and continue with 1 a month. In our anniversary month (1 year old in November 09!) we are featuring 2 stories and will publish 1 - 2 stories each month as we move into 2010.   In November we’re delighted to introduce some newly acquired authors.  3 talented new authors  have been signed up so far from unsolicited submissions for Undone.  

 For any aspiring writers who have been daunted by the idea of writing an historical of over 70,000 words, the shorter Undones might now give you the opportunity you've been looking for. Look out this month for Michelle Willingham’s THE WARRIOR’S FORBIDDEN VIRGIN. 

It sounds like a very vibrant and exciting program, Linda. Thank you so much for answering my questions and visiting here at the Word Wenches. I know you're extremely busy, so I appreciate your generosity.

It was my pleasure, Anne. Now, if any of your readers have any questions to ask me, I'll do my best to answer them.

Linda will be giving away a book to several readers who leave comments or ask questions.

(1) Linda Fildew - Guest (2) Anne's and Nicola's news (3) Elizabeth Chadwick, HWW

This coming Friday, Linda Fildew will be Anne Gracie's guest.  Linda is the Senior Editor at Harlequin Historicals, and she'll be bringing her editor's insight to the interview.  You won't want to miss this one!

And speaking of Anne, she just got a starred review from Library Journal for  her September release, To Catch a Bride.  Way to go, Anne!

As of 2010 Nicola is going to be published by MIRA in the UK, an accolade only previously given to one other author.  UK MIRA books will start in June 2010 with the first in the Brides of Fortune series. (In the meantime Nicola has "Kidnapped" out in the UK in September from Mills & Boon Single Titles.) In other news, Nicola's Unmasked was a finalist in the Cover Cafe contest for best historical romance book cover 2008!

As a thank you to Elizabeth Chadwick for visiting with us last week, Jo has chosen a virtual gift for Elizabeth:  Pembroke Castle!  (See Jo's post in the comments section of the Chadwick interview, including a link for more castle pictures).  Elizabeth, you are now an official Honorary Word Wench, and with that honor comes the privilege of adding "HWW" after your name.  Here is a picture of Pembroke Castle, complete with manicured lawn.

Jeane Westin and THE VIRGIN'S DAUGHTERS

Anne here, with an interview with Jeane Westin, the author of THE VIRGIN'S DAUGHTERS. 

Jeane is a writer of historical novels and, like most of us here, is a lifelong passionate reader. I loved this little snippet from her website: "I took books on my honeymoon and I can remember my husband’s puzzlement when he saw me reading The History of Diseases. “It’s interesting,” I explained… difficult for a bridegroom to believe." 

Very much the sign of a writer in my opinion.

Jeane has written several popular historical romances, but now has turned to historical novels. The first, THE VIRGIN'S DAUGHTERS, was released this month.

I read THE VIRGIN'S DAUGHTERS in galley form and despite the fact that it was in loose pages, I was unable to put it down and read it all in one hit, finishing in the wee small hours of the night. Jeane's book drew me utterly into the world of Elizabeth 1st's court, through the eyes of two of her ladies in waiting; Katherine Grey (sister of Lady Jane Grey) and Mary Rogers. Each one falls in love, each one in defiance of the queen, yet torn by their love of and loyalty to her. We see the anguish and the power —and the cost— of love for them and for their Queen. It's a wonderful story — or should I say stories, not only because it's in two parts, but because it's also Elizabeth's story, as well as Kate and Mary's. Superb stuff and well worth reading.
 

The reviewers agree: Historical Novels Review said: "this book gripped me from the earliest pages... I became caught up in the lives of these two relatively unknown ladies of Elizabeth's court, and the way Westin ties both tales together is unique and riveting... Highly recommended."  Romantic Times gave it a Top Pick, saying: "Rich, colorful details of court life, captivating characters with suppressed sexuality, scandal and intrigue thrust the reader into the era in this top-notch novel."  
 

Jeane, welcome to the WordWenches. When I first saw the title THE VIRGIN'S DAUGHTERS I wondered if the novel was about some illegitimate daughters  of Queen Elizabeth, but it isn't. How did you come by the title?

 

I believe the days when the wonderful Jean Plaidy could write a straight-on bio-novel are gone.  We now have to approach historical figures from the little known...sideways, if you will. Deep in research and trying to come up with a new approach to Elizabeth, I came across a bit of information that Elizabeth had discouraged her ladies-in-waiting from marriage, wanting them to emulate her virgin status.  I wondered what that was like: Elizabeth always on guard that they did not become romantically involved and most of her ladies trying to outwit her. 

 

I wed that information with Elizabeth's conceit that all of her ladies were her daughters and that she had a mother's concern for them.  (The real mothers of these ladies were not happy when the queen did not provide wealthy young nobles for their daughters to wed, gaining titles and wealth for the family.)

 

In an Elizabethan court that was sensuous, full of play, dancing, over-dressing, alcohol, young men and younger women--how easy could the queen's job have been?  It's no wonder she often failed.

 

This is a novel about love, rather than a conventional romance. There are two women's love stories in this novel, not counting Elizabeth's. Tell us about Kate and Mary, and why you chose to tell their stories. 

 

 Kate's dramatic story is a part of history.  Katherine Grey the younger sister of Jane Grey, queen for nine days, was Elizabeth's cousin and Henry VIII had named her next in line for the throne.  Any threat to Elizabeth's throne was major in her life...and heirs were always threats because plots constantly formed around them.  Elizabeth, as her sister Bloody Mary's heir, had learned that lesson well.  When Kate fell in love with a Seymour and another heir, she was... oops, that's a spoiler.

 

As for Mary Rogers: I brought her to the castle for John Harington, Elizabeth's favorite godson, Boye Jack.  He invented the first flush toilet and the situation was so unusual and tempting that I had to include their story.  In life, they were rather successfully married, having fifteen children.

In what way do you think the queen's own love stories impacted on the lives of these two women?  

 

They certainly could see her as a woman like themselves and understand her feelings for Robert Dudley and the Earl of Essex.  Although both Kate and Mary saw the queen's weaknesses and her strengths, they could also see the price she paid.  These two women helped me to see Elizabeth in different ways.

I was struck, as I read the book, by how much the members of the court lived on a knife-edge, depending on how they stood with the queen at any particular moment. A close up of absolute power in action. 

 

I wouldn't say Elizabeth's power was absolute.  She had advisers who curbed some of her greater excesses, but she did have the power to make or break and she was loved and hated to excess, both of which gave her personal power.  Elizabeth was highly intelligent and enormously well-educated for the time, perhaps a genius.  She had to balance that against a psyche that had been warped by her father, her on and off acceptance and rejection by him and the terror of immanent death when she was suspected of plotting by either her brother Edward VI's counselors or her sister Bloody Mary's hatred.

 

Elizabeth's stay in the Tower where she expecting to be taken to the execution block to be beheaded any morning probably hardened her forever.  Wouldn't it change anyone?

I found it fascinating to see Elizabeth portrayed through others' eyes in the novel. It created a wonderfully complex portrait.  There have been many different portrayals of Elizabeth over the years, and I suppose that will continue. What's your own view?

 

She is fascinating, both as queen and as woman.  I learn something new about her everyday... and about myself. Something I find interesting is that the earlier a book about her is written the more virginal she is; later books allow her to love, be a witch, a detective, etc.  A perfect illustration of our changing times.

 

I don't see our appetite for Elizabeth and her times dimming, or a time when we will not want to sit down to that feast again.

I loved the scene when Essex bursts in on Elizabeth, unexpectedly. Can you tell the readers a little about it?

 

It really happened as I wrote it with the emotions added.  Since I'm of a certain age, I knew how I would feel...in love with a much younger man, more than thirty years younger, and not expecting to see him before I had my hair done and my face on. 

 

In addition, Essex had disobeyed Elizabeth's orders and she felt threatened that he would bring an army against her.

 

Again, she defended her throne, although I think it hastened her death two years later from melancholy. 

 

Strange to say it, but I think Essex really loved Elizabeth as much as he could love anyone but himself.  But Elizabeth was queen first and woman second.

 

Do you have a favorite scene in the book?

 

There are so many.  How can I say this without sounding like Elizabeth?  I struggled over and love the entire book

The research you did for this must have been difficult, as so little evidence remains. How did you approach it? Was there anything you learned that surprised you?

 

I researched and researched some more.  There is a surprising amount of information that survives.  I have shelves of books about every aspect of the period.  I was a bit amazed to discover many books already on my own shelves about her or her time.  But I ordered and read many out-of-print, some a hundred years old.

 

The thing I think that surprised me most about Elizabeth was how ill she was during her life.  Many of her illnesses during times of stress sound suspiciously like nervous breakdowns, and I suspect she was also a bit anorexic, eating only a few bites at meals.  Her eating "smally" was commented on by many biographers quoting contemporaries.  (I'm not a doctor, but I play a doctor for this interview.)

 

She did have a sweet tooth, so much so that she lost teeth and was troubled with toothache.  Her favorite sweet was vanilla comfits.  She carried them in her pocket and would nibble them all day.  There must have been a Groom-of-the-Vanilla Comfits whose job was to keep her supplied.  (pic of comfits from http://www.historicfood.com/Comfits.htm)

Would you care to share a short extract?

 

Anne, here's some of your favorite scene: 

 

The earl, looking the gallant young lord in shining black velvet, starched white ruff and flowing curls, threw himself at the queen’s feet and grasped the hem of her gown, kissing it as if to devour lace, pearls and all.

            “Most beloved queen of my heart—”  His voice rumbled low and intense, filling the chamber with masculine passion.

            He got no further.  The queen snatched her gown from his hands and leapt to her feet, her lute landing on the carpeted floor.  She backed away from his desperate effort to clutch at her, saying no word, nor calling for her guard.  The cold scorn on her face would have frozen any sensible man.

            The earl, though off balance, stood upright.  Frightened for the queen, Mary came as close to Elizabeth as she dared.  If Essex drew his sword to deliver a blow, she would take the thrust.

            But it wasn’t Elizabeth who faced danger.  The queen did not flinch and advanced on Essex.  He held his arms up for her to walk into, but she knocked them wide, pushing her fists against his chest until he stumbled backward.

            The earl was obviously astonished.  “Majesty!  I beg you…speak to me…listen to my sorrow.  I have been desolate these eleven months without your love to guide me away from the mistakes of youth and crazed ardor.  In truth, your grace—” 

            The queen advanced again, no sound coming from her, no softening of her cold stare.  She showed no hot anger, only hard contempt in every gesture and every line of her face, her corded neck thrust forward.  She pushed him again.  And again, he stumbled backward, his mouth working, but now no intelligible words exiting.  He had obviously relied on the nearness of his person to melt her to forgiveness as it always had.

            With one final thrust that must have taken all her strength, she pushed him into the antechamber and slammed the doors in his still unbelieving face. 

            Mary approached Elizabeth’s back, worried that she might be near collapse from her exertions.  “Majesty, may I ease you with a little wine?”

            The queen whirled about, her face triumphant.  “This crooked carcass needs no food or drink to best such foolish men.  He thinks I need him, that I cannot let him go…that he is the stronger,” she said, scarce above a whisper, and then in full voice:  “Pish!” 

Only Mary heard all the words, and understood their meaning, knowing that they were the best part of the queen’s victory over Essex and her own heart.

            Elizabeth crossed to the lute on the floor, picked it up and struck a solid chord, croaking, “…and I the prouder grow.” 

What's next for you, Jeane? What are you working on?

 

Would you believe another Elizabeth book only this one a full exploration of Elizabeth and Robert Dudley, the Earl of Leicester's long love?  It comes from NAL, August 2010 and is called His Last Letter: Elizabeth I and the Earl of Leicester.

 

After The Virgin's Daughters, I wanted to more fully explore Elizabeth's and her Sweet Robin's lives together, yet apart.  One way I do this is by imagining that his last letter which she kept in her treasures box until she died had more to it than came down to us.  Everyone's question is did they or did they not know full sexual intimacy.  I answer it...at least to my satisfaction.

 

It sounds wonderful. I'm looking forward to it. Thank you so much for joining us, Jeane. 
 

Anne, thanks for the opportunity, but before I go, I want to thank Jo Beverley who wrote once on the Novelists Inc., members' list that the historical novel of the future must have a central great love story.  That sent me off on my quest. 

 

Jeane is giving away a copy of The Virgin's Daughters, the winner to be selected from those who comment in answer to this question: What do you find most interesting or puzzling about the Elizabethan Age? Or if you have questions for Jeane, she'd be delighted to answer them.

Anne's Ruby and Anne's Guest

CONGRATS TO ANNE:

Congratulations to Anne Gracie! The Stolen Princess has won the RWAustralia Romantic Book of the Year R*BY ("The Ruby") in the Long Romance category.  The Ruby is the equivalent of Romance Writers of America's RITA.  Way to go, Anne!

GUEST AUGUST 21:

On Friday, 8/21, Anne will host Jeane Westin.  Jeane's August release, The Virgin's Daughters, tells the story of Elizabeth I--daughter of Henry VIII and Ann Boleyn--as it’s never been told before:  through the eyes of two ladies-in-waiting closest to her.  Join us Friday for Jeane's interview.

P.S.  We have added two more bookmarks in the right sidebar under Additional Pages.

Fragments...

Anne here. 

On the last day of my trip, somewhere between New York City and home, I lost my camera. I don't know how, or where — I can't even recall taking it out of my bag, or using it that day, but it's gone. It's not the loss of the camera itself that's so distressing, but the pictures still on it, all my pictures from the RWA conference, my stay in Maryland, and New York. People, places, moments captured for me to look back on for years to come, each one, a small story. No longer. To whoever has the camera now, those pictures are just random shots of strangers. Without context, they're meaningless. 

It got me thinking about travel records of the past. Then journeys were more a matter of days and weeks, not just a matter of hours. It was a more leisurely pace and people had more time in which to record their reflections. On my first big solo trip away from home (3 months travelling through Europe) I filled a diary with anecdotes, descriptions, pasted in illustrations, tickets, postcards etc and I brought home enough photos to fill an album. Had I lost my diary, the finder might still have been able to enjoy reading it — assuming they could decipher my scrawl— because writing creates its own context.

I love reading old diaries and letters. They bring worlds and times and people to life. For my second book, Tallie's Knight, I used the letters of an Irish lady travelling on the continent with friends in 1802-3. My third book was prompted by a story I read in an old newspaper — the Fiji Times of the 1870's. When I was at university I did some research for a professor, recording shipping movements in and out of Fiji, and I read years worth of the Fiji Times. I read for hours more than he paid me, because I couldn't help getting distracted by the wonderful stories that kept popping up. And years later, one of those stories sparked a novel.

Journals and letters also played a big part in the writing of my most recent book, TO CATCH A BRIDE (coming in September.) It's partly set in Egypt, and I used a number of travel journals and diaries of Englishmen traveling in and through Egypt at that time.

The trouble with research is that so much of it is so fascinating, but doesn't relate to the actual story. It helps evoke the atmosphere of the time, and throws up all sorts of fun and interesting snippets, but any research that makes it into a novel is very much the tip of an iceberg.

For instance, here's a description by an Englishman of his first experience in riding camels: "I had the rope of the camel's head in my hand, and I found the motion unpleasant, as is that of all animals which move two legs on the same side at one time. I did not know what to make of my fellow travellers, but Mustapha offered me his pipe: I smoked very comfortably, and soon became more used to the movement...[snip] After two hours travelling was much alarmed in respect to the motion of the animal for about that time I felt a most violent pain in my side and back, and this continued to increase, so that I was obliged to dismount and walk." 

What interested me was not just that he found the motion

 of the camel painful, but that he happily shared a pipe with his

 arab servant, despite the presence of plague in the region.

Egypt in the early 19th century was still very much affected by plague. Yes the plague, bubonic plague, the same disease that had decimated Europe's population in earlier centuries. I knew it was still in evidence in Egypt — it was one of the reasons why the various quarters of Cairo were able to be closed off. The fascinating aspect for me in the contemporary accounts was the attitude various Englishmen had toward the theories of how one came to catch the Plague. Science had not yet proved the existence of germs, and it was very much a question of faith as to what one believed. So a wide range of beliefs were in evidence. 

Several openly scoffed at the nonsense talked by "these contagionist fellows" who claimed that the disease came from contact or close proximity. It had nothing to do with that, one fellow claimed; it was all about keeping active. To test this theory, one group of soldiers had been marched quickly through a plague-infested village, while another (hapless) group had camped in the village for several days. Of the soldiers who had marched briskly through the village, only a small number came down with plague, whereas many of those who had lolled about at the ease in the village had become infected. Proof positive, it was claimed, that activity kept the disease from catching hold. There were all sorts of "remedies" for its treatment, too. And debate raged about the proper method of quarantine, and the question of what materials carried the infection and which didn't. Wool and feathers were, apparently, fatal carriers; oil cloth and wheat were not.

 My characters were sailing home from Egypt so I became very interested in the domestic arrangements of the ship. On your left is an officer's cabin from an American naval ship of the period.  On your right is a bathroom.  The captain on some boats had a bath and even a flush toilet. And since my characters were traveling on a private ship, they had even better quarters than this.

 There's more information on ships cabins here.

So much of the flavor and small detail of my books comes from diaries and letters kept and preserved over time and published in some manner, sometimes long after the death of the writer. I have boxes of letters saved over the years. I used to be a prolific letter writer. Not so much lately. It's all emails. But I can pull out a letter in my brother's handwriting and it evokes him and his humor and dry wit in a way that photos can't ever do. He died when I was 20.  I have letters from my Dad, who's been dead some years, and from friends I haven't seen in years, and I can pull out a packet of letters and be transported to another time and place. I have a box of letters that my mother wrote to my godmother over the years, that my godmother gave back to Mum, and I've learned things about my childhood I never would have known otherwise.

 I wonder what will happen to that sort of record from our own time. So often we keep blogs now instead of  journals and send emails instead of letters, and cyber communication can disappear without a trace. As can cameras...

So I'm wondering, do you keep a journal? Do you save letters? Do you write letters any more, or is it invariably email? Or tell us about your precious mementoes from the past.

A roving...

Anne here, back from the RWA conference in Washington DC and posting from New York City and soon to be hopping on a plane for a lonnnnng flight home. And although my dog is at home--more accurately, at dog camp -- I'll put her pic up regardless, as I miss her...

Dog camp is actually a dog boarding kennels. She usually stays with friends, but that's not always possible. The first time I took her to a kennels -- one which came highly recommended -- she seemed fine, albeit tired when I picked her up again and a little bit clingy. But when, months later, I took her back there, dropping her off just hours before I was due to catch a plane, she refused to get out of the car and I had to carry her, shivering to the office. I felt sick at having to leave her but I had no choice at the time. Of course she never went back there.

The place she's at now is great and she actually loves it. She bounds from the car and practically breaks down the gate in her eagerness to get there, and when she gets into the office, she wants to say hello to everyone there. They lead her off--actually, she leads them, prancing, tail wagging furiously, with barely a backward glance at me. It's such a relief -- I don't feel in the slightest bit guilty at leaving her there.

Anyway, I didn't plan to write about my dog and I will get onto some proper wenchly blogging in a moment, but it's a problem, isn't it, when you have animals and need to leave them occasionally, because they don't understand. And as most of my pets have been rescue animals, they do understand abandonment. So it's a huge relief to have a place where they're happy. Thank you Welcome Kennels.

So, the Romance Writers of America conference is over. My brain is exhausted. I've met so many people, made new friends, and strengthened old friendships. I met dozens of people I'd only known cyberly -- several wordwenches I'd never met in person -- both really lovely -- as well as publishers, editors, reviewers, word wench readers, people from various other blogs and boards, people who'd read my books and came up to say hello, and people who didn't know me from a bar of soap who were just as friendly and kind and wonderful.

And I met authors: people whose books sit on my keeper shelf and have given me hours of pleasure,  authors whose names I've heard but whose books I've not yet read but will now, and authors and books new to me. And then there's the excitement of the brand new author with her first book, like my friend, Kandy Shepherd, with her first book, LOVE IS A FOUR LEGGED WORD -- Isn't that an adorable title? And it's about a dog, so of course I'm going to love it. I have it to read on the plane trip home.

There is a such a warm and lovely atmosphere at romance conferences. I suppose most romance writers are optimists and like to have happy endings, and that leaks into the atmosphere. And then, of course there are all the workshops, and the discussions and the gossip, so no wonder my brain is exhausted.

After the conference, I went to stay with a writer friend and we planned a long, intensive workshop we're taking together. It should have been all work but we spent a lot of time just sharing ideas about books and finding how much we had in common and talking about books we both loved. She kept pulling out books from her many shelves crammed with wonderful books -- my idea of the perfect home-- and we pored over them, finding passages we loved, and talking in the way book-lovers do everywhere.

And then there were moments of pure magic! At one stage I glanced up from our table deep in papers and saw a hummingbird hovering, feeding from flowers in a hanging basket outside the window. I'd loved the idea of hummingbirds since I was a tiny girl, but I'd never ever seen one. And later that evening, fireflies winked and sparked in the warm darkness. More magic -- I'd never seen a firefly, either. And there were squirrels. I know, I know -- my hosts laughed, too but to me, they're magic, exotic creatures, just as a kangaroo or koala might be to you. As a child, growing up reading Enid Blyton and other English storybooks, squirrels were often mentioned and I'd longed to have one sit on my shoulder, as Benjy did, in THE CHILDREN OF CHERRY TREE FARM or was it THE MAGIC FARAWAY TREE books?

I also walked a labyrinth. I'd become fascinated with them after reading Mary Jo Putney's contemporary novel, THE SPIRAL PATH, but I'd only ever walked one that we'd drawn in the sand once, on retreat, so on this visit I walked my first 'real' labyrinth, in the beautiful, peaceful, green wooded grounds of a convent. It, too was magic.

So, books and book discussions, a labyrinth, fireflies, humming birds and squirrels, what more could I ask for? Well I got fireworks -- a special display in my honor-- and lashings of delicious food. My hostess was determined I taste some regional specialities. I remember the best gumbo I've ever had,  superb crabcakes with sweet white corn and potato salad, a cherry dessert, pulled, spicy pork, and slow, delicious breakfasts over good coffee and books. Thank you, my friend, for a wonderful visit.

Now I'm in New York and my brain is full.  I have one day left. and I'm not sure what to do. I'm thinking maybe a harbour tour -- I've never been to the Statue of Liberty. It's not my first visit to New York and I've visited most of the "usual sites." I'm in the Soho/Tribeca are, and I'm told there's a magic cocoa/chocolate shop somewhere around, so I might go looking for small gifts to take home. Any suggestions most welcome. Sorry about the lack of pictures -- It's very difficult to harvest them on this little computer.

So, any suggestions for what I should do in New York?
And what do you do with your pets when you have to go away?
And have you ever been on a visit where magic happened? Where you saw your first hummingbird or firefly, or some other magic creature?

Winners, Awards, & Voting Ends Today

Good afternoon!  If you've noticed the Announcements sidebar on the right, you know that Anne Gracie and Loretta Chase are on the list of 12 Favorite Books by Favorite Authors.  Your vote will help them improve their ranking. Voting ends today, so if you would like to vote, go here: http://likesbooks.com/favesbyfavesballot.html

Winners!  We have more winners!  Patricia Barraclough has won a copy of The French Mistress by Susan Holloway Scott, and Lady Doc has won a copy of Don't Tempt Me by Loretta Chase.

Congratulations to Andrea Pickens!  Seduced by a Spy has won the Daphne du Maurier award for Best Historical Mystery/Suspense.

Wild harvests...

Anne here, ruminating on the gathering of food from nature...more or less. This train of thought was started when I visited a friend's blog and read this verse of poetry:

Nutting, by William Wordsworth

—It seems a day,
One of those heavenly days which cannot die,
When forth I sallied from our cottage-door,
And with a wallet o'er my shoulder slung,
A nutting crook in hand, I turn'd my steps
Towards the distant woods, a Figure quaint,
Trick'd out in proud disguise of Beggar's weeds
Put on for the occasion, by advice
And exhortation of my frugal Dame.

And it sparked such memories. When I was a kid we used to spend time with friends who'd built a beautiful Austrian-style log cabin in the foothills of the mountains, near Bright in Victoria -- Otto, my dad's friend, was originally from Austria and this cabin was a labor of love carried out over many years. 

Nearby was a farm that contained an old walnut orchard, and we kids used to sneak in and pick walnuts off the ground. The farmer was elderly and very grumpy and at the first shout of "Oy, I've told you kids—" we'd run like crazy, giggling our heads off, our hands and pockets full of booty. He'd threatened to give us a hiding if he caught us and it didn't take any convincing for us to believe it.

It was one of those games you play in childhood, flirting with danger, wresting food from nature (or the farmer) at great risk. In retrospect I suspect it was much the same for him, because the cabin was only five minutes walk away and he could easily have walked up the track and complained to our parents, and as far as I know, he never did.

Once gained, our precious booty was devoured. We cracked the nuts between river stones -- the bigger kids, especially the boys, used to crack them in their hands, nut against nut. We'd eat the meat, but even then we weren't finished with them. The aim of cracking the shells was not simply to get at the meat, but to try to crack the nuts without breaking the shell, to split them into perfect halves. We'd use the halves for all sorts of games — we'd make walnut shell boats and race them, and being a small girl, with another small girl for company, we also made them into cradles for bush babies, and on several memorable occasions made tiny gardens in them with mud and moss and tiny ferns from the creek that burbled down from the mountains, cold and crystal clear.

Further down the road there were huge chestnut trees that grew along the side of the road and as far as we knew they were public property, and not nearly as exciting. But the nuts were easy to collect and delicious to eat, and we'd bring them back in triumph. We'd put a small cut in the skins, then lay them around the edge of the fireplace, close to the hot coals and waited until they split with a hiss or a sizzle, then, juggling the hot nuts in our hands, we'd peel the skin off and eat the hot roasted flesh sprinkled with salt. 

We also used to go out mushroom picking. In the cool weather, a few days after rain, we'd get up early in the morning and head out to the best mushroom places. The adults knew which were safe and which weren't and we soon learned. We kids would compete in spotting the smooth domes of creamy mushroom rising from the grass. We'd fill my mother's wicker basket with mushrooms and then go home where she'd cook us all a mushroom breakfast. Even now, one of my favorite breakfasts is mushrooms, cooked with bacon, garlic and thyme, on thick hand-cut toast.

In late summer, we used to pick all sorts of fruit; figs, fresh off the tree, warm from the sun, with a golden drop of nectar showing that fruit is ripe, apricots, apples, plums, quinces, feijoas, all of which was eaten and preserved  as jams or jellies. 

My favorite thing was going blackberrying. Blackberries are regarded as a weed in Australia and they spray them early now, and kill them before they have a chance to fruit, but when I was a child they were everywhere in great abundance, huge tangled mounds of prickles, covered with sweet, ripe berries. We'd spend hours picking them, eating as many delicious berries as we picked, coming home with mouth, fingers and clothes stained purple. We'd make blackberry jam  and have blackberries and ice cream for dinner or blackberry and apple tart.

When we went to live in Scotland for a year, I discovered that schoolchildren were encouraged to collect rose hips -- for hospitals I seem to recall, though I could be wrong. They were paid some small sum per pound, and the rose hips, which are very high in vitamin C, were turned into rose hip syrup and rose hip jelly. I'd never tasted either, but that year I picked hundred of rose hips.

One year when I was about 10 we moved into an old house with a line of trees with dark reddish foliage along the back fence. My mother was delighted. Crab apples. One long weekend, just when the crab apples were ripe, my eldest sister came on a visit from the city, bringing with her a Very Special Boyfriend. He spent the entire visit up the trees, picking crab apples, while my sister was in the kitchen, slicing and boiling and straining crab apples. To this day my brother-in-law shudders at the mention of crab apple jelly. I've no idea why. ;)

There is a special pleasure, I think, in finding food from nature. It probably satisfies our ancient inner hunter/collector instincts. My parents certainly loved it and passed on the knowledge and pleasure to us. The list of things we collected or picked or caught was endless ; my first oyster was eaten straight from the sea, prised off the rocks with my father's penknife; my brother used to hunt rabbits and bring them home for the pot; we kept bees; my brother and his friend used to catch yabbies (like freshwater prawns) with his friends and they'd cook up a feast of them then and there with a fire and an old tin can. I was never allowed to go (too small) and have never caught a yabbie, so even though I've eaten them in restaurants, the idea of catching and cooking my own still carries a special allure for me.

Food gathering and collecting — and I'm not just talking about harvesting— has been part of the country dweller's seasonal routines forever. It's probably only in recent years, when food of all sorts, from all climates is widely available in supermarkets, regardless of season. But the pleasure is still there when we get it for ourselves -- those pick-your-own fruit farms know it; it's not only about saving on labour costs. 

Country activities such as these are rarely mentioned in historical novels, possibly because such activities aren't in the experience of city bred modern authors. I'm not talking about huntin' fishin' and shootin' which, of course is in many historicals. But gathering food that's growing wild is rarely mentioned, even though it was common at the time. Such things could, of course, be left for the servants to do, but really it's a lot of fun, especially if done in a group, and the gentry would do it, too, I'm sure.

Georgette Heyer knew it, even though she lived in the heart of London.  In her book, Venetia, the heroine, Venetia changes into her oldest gown to go blackberrying and heads for the best spot for blackberries --  the property of her absentee neighbor, the notorious rake, Lord Damerel. Of course, the Wicked Baron, home on an unexpected visit, comes upon our heroine and before she knows it, she's being kissed; forfeit for the berries she's taken. It's a wonderful introductory scene. (If you haven't read it, get a copy. You won't regret it.) 

Can you think of other scenes in books where characters collected food from the wild?

And did you ever go out collecting food from the wild when you were a child? Did you enjoy it, or was it a chore?  What did you gather, collect or hunt? Do you still do it now? Tell us about it 

Or has your collecting instinct concentrated itself in that other ancient pleasure, shopping? And if so, what's your weakness?

Meet Eva Ibbotson

Anne here.  This interview with Eva Ibbotson is a little different from most of the guest interviews we do here on Word Wenches. Eva  is a Living Treasure and has just passed her 84th birthday. As you will see, however, Eva Ibbotson and her books, are ageless. The interview was conducted over the phone and transcribed by Eva's agent, Stephanie Thwaites. Thank you Stephanie and Eva for making this possible.

Eva Ibbotson has written some of my all-time favorite keeper books.  She and Georgette Heyer are my top two desert island authors and comfort reads. I watched with dismay as the copies of her adult books went out of print and became more and more hard to find, so it's been a huge delight for me to see them reissued.            

 These adult romances are superb — and not "teenage novels" at all (which is how the publishers are now marketing them— I presume because there are no sex scenes.) Her stories are wonderfully textured, heartwarming and, to quote another Word Wench, "they have a magical blend of wit, sweetness, and emotion."  I'm sure they'll delight a whole new generation of readers 

            

Eva, welcome to the Word Wenches. You've written children's stories and romances for adults. What made you decide to write romances?

 

Eva: I had so much pleasure from Georgette Heyer that I wanted to write books that would please others in the same way.  I think I was really writing the kind of book I wanted to read myself when I had the flu.

Anne:  You certainly succeeded. Many of your books are set in a space between contemporary (almost within living memory) and historical, mostly between the wars, and you said once that your favourite year was 1910, which was well before you were born. What is it about that time that appeals to you? 

 

Eva:  Many of my books originate in my mother’s memoirs and the stories she told me about her childhood in Vienna. She was born in 1902 and it is the years after that date until she left Austria in the early 30s that I became most familiar with and took as my own terrain.

 

Anne:  Your wonderful account of your personal connection with public libraries is still available to be read on-line, and it always draws a strong response when I've read it aloud at library talks. It begins: 

I was eight years old when I came to Britain as a refugee - and was not particularly grateful. Mostly this was because after years and years of being a sheep coming to the manger, or a grazing cow, I had at last landed the part of the Virgin Mary in the nativity play at my convent school in Vienna.

And then ... Hitler.

Tell us a little  about your life when you first came to live in England as a child. How did this life later come to feed your stories?

 

Eva: I came to England as an 8 year old girl; my parents had been separated for some years and I was a bit uncertain where I belonged. When we came to settle in London it was in the world of refugees and danger, and reading for me, as for so many children in those years, became a way of escape.  But the cosmopolitanism of my fellow refugees made a rich tapestry which I used again and again when I began to write. (In THE MORNING GIFT I have explored this further).

 

Anne:  There is a theory that people who are writers were often lonely children, or children who lived isolated lives or spent a lot of time on their own. Was that true for you

  

Eva: This was certainly true for me. I was an only child of parents very busy with their own separate careers and I remember very little family life as the words are understood. On the other hand the solitary journeys I made between my parents gave me lots of opportunities to get inside my own head.

 

Anne:  What stories in English did you first fall in love with? Did you always want to be a writer?

 

Eva: I loved all the well known children’s books in English, there seemed to be far more than in German and they were wonderful.  The Arthur Ransome books (SWALLOWS & AMAZONS) come to mind and everything by Frances Hodgson Burnett and L.M Montgomery. I loved school stories however silly!

Anne:  One of the things I enjoy discovering about other writers is how particular books came to demand to be written. I read in an interview here that it was seeing a house demolished that made  you think about ghosts being made homeless, and that led to the writing of your first children's book, "The Great Ghost Rescue."

Was there a particular spark of inspiration that germinated into Magic Flutes?

 

Eva: I visited Hochosterwitz on my last return visit to Austria well after the end of the war. It was completely over the top, and the basis of Pfafferstein. For the rest I have had a passion for Mozart’s music since I was six years old – my aunt was a teacher at the Vienna Conservatoire, and everybody brought up in Vienna gets dunked in Opera and the love story grew out of that. I thought the complete contrast with all that pomp would be Martha Hodge and Newcastle where I lived by then would be fun to do.

 

Anne: The reissued novels have different covers (and in some cases different titles) in the UK and US. I must say I prefer the US covers. Did you have any say in the covers and the retitling?

 

Eva: To be honest I don’t like any of the reissued covers whether English or American but I try not to make a fuss because marketing has become such and issue and evidently the covers work for teenagers. Change of title from MAGIC FLUTES to RELUCTANT HEIRESS was done without my knowledge and the Americans apologised very profusely – these things happen…. 

Anne:  The Magic Flutes (aka The Reluctant Heiress) won the prestigious Romantic Novel of the Year in 1983, when it was first published. For those who've never had the joy of reading Eva Ibbotson, here is a taste, as our hero , Guy Farne, comes face to face with two elderly members of the crumbling aristocracy of post-war middle Europe:

 

Augustine-Maria, Duchess of Breganzer, was in her eighties, her eagle’s beak of a nose and fierce grey eyes dominating the wrinkled, parchment face. The Duchess wore a black lace dress, to the hem of which there adhered a number of cobwebs and what appeared to be a piece of cheese. A cap of priceless and yellowing lace was set on her sparse hair and her rather dirty, arthritic hands rested on a magnificent ivory cane which had once belonged to Marie Antoinette.

                Her sister-in-law, Mathilde, Margravine of Attendorf and Untersweg, was a little younger and in spite of recent shortages, resolutely round-faced and plump. Unlike the Duchess, who had received them standing, the Margravine remained seated in order to embrace more efficiently the quivering, shivering form of a goggle-eyed and slightly malororous pug whose lower extremeties were wrapped in a gold-embroidered Medici cope.

 

Anne: Your "Mittel-European sensibility" and the world you portrayed in this book (and others) of the crumbling aristocracy,  the up-and-coming thrusting new money, the snobs, the opportunists and the heroes — it all has such an authentic feeling to it. How much (if any) of this is based on your own experience? (I would love it if you really knew a monkey gland prince.)

 

Eva: I have no direct personal experience of the crumbling aristocracy. My characters are drawn from reading and from my imagination. My father was a biologist and fashions like monkey gland injections were rife when he was young.

 

Anne:  As well as heroes to-die-for and and gutsy, heart-wrenching heroines, you've created some marvelous minor characters. Do you have readers writing to you begging for some of your minor characters to have their own stories? I confess, one I'd love to see is Ollie's story. And Sergei's. And I'd like a romance for Martha Hodge too.

 

Eva: The minor characters are incredibly important; indeed the word minor hardly fits. To be honest I don’t quite know where they come from but this is the case altogether with writing; it remains mysterious. I’ll think about a romance for Martha Hodge!

 

Anne:  You create wonderful antiheroes — I think my favorite is the fiancée of the hero in Countess Below Stairs, so smooth-skinned, beautiful and smugly ruthless. Yet you treat them with kindness in the end, often more than I think they deserve. 

 

Eva: Perhaps it’s because I thought of myself as plain and unattractive (in spite of a very happy marriage) that my anti-heroines are usually beautiful and voluptuous and smug. 

 

Anne : Guy Farne is a splendid hero. I loved the story of how he grew up, a small hero in need of dragons to slay and heroines to rescue. The relationship between him and his foster mother is beautiful. And when he sees our heroine.. .sigh. Kindness and honor and strength.

Your heroes are often trapped between honor and their hearts desire, and as they're the sort of men who would never compromise their honor, their future often seems doomed to polite misery. The resolutions to their dilemmas in both Countess Below Stairs  and Magic Flutes are particularly good fun, as those concerned are beautifully hoist with their own petard (she says trying not to give any of the story away.) Are you the sort of writer who plots stories out in advance or do they take you on a journey that unfolds as you write? Have you even painted yourself into a corner?

 

Eva: The kind of dichotomy between honour and passion is as old as the hills and I must say getting my heroes out of their dilemmas has sometimes not been easy. This is where the so called minor characters come in – like the Littlest Heidi in MAGIC FLUTES.  I only know the broad outline of a story when I begin; the way obstacles are produced and then cleared up comes as I go along. It can be an awful headache!

 

Anne:  Some of your children's stories, for instance "Journey to the River Sea" have been transformed into stage plays. I would love to see your adult novels turned into a BBC mini-series or three. Any chance of this?

 

Eva: I too would like to see my adult novels turned into plays or films – there’s an option out on THE MORNING GIFT so keep your fingers crossed.

 

Anne:  You said once in an interview that you thought of your books as a present for readers and, for me and countless others, they have indeed been the most wonderful gift. I hope they're in print for many more years. Thank you.

 

Eva: Thank you. I meant what I said about trying to think of my books as presents- which means that the reader wants to know what happens and not too much about my soul, or the sunset. I’m glad you’ve enjoyed the books. All the best, Eva. 

Anne again: Eva Ibbotson is not able to join us for a discussion on Word Wenches, however I have promised to forward all the messages and comments to her, via her agent, so whether you're an old fan or new fan, this is your chance to send her a message. What's your favourite of her characters or books? Or if you haven't read her yet (lucky you, what a treat in store) -- what qualities do you love in a hero or heroine? (A commenter will be chosen at random to receive a copy of one of Eva's newly reissued books) 

 

Eva Ibbotson Here 6/19

This coming Friday we have a special treat for you:  an interview with the legendary Eva Ibbotson.  We're thrilled to have this opportunity to visit with such a revered author whose name has appeared on many "favorite writer" lists here at the Word Wenches.  Please join us Friday, June 19, when Anne will present the interview with Eva.

Gentlemen's clubs

Anne here, musing today on the question of clubs. Gentlemen's clubs, for the most part, though not exclusively. It's one of the side alleys one gets lured down when writing a historical; your hero  is meeting his friends for dinner at his club, and before you know it you're wondering, yes, but which club? And you trawl through the various historical sources and the possibilities. Mostly what I do is write something like "He walked into the XXXX club and..." and later fill in the XXXX.

 

But inevitably, at some stage you have to return to that part of the manuscript and and decide which club. Will I use a real historical club, or shall I make one up to suit my purpose? 

There are plenty of precedents in literature for making it up. P.G. Wodehouse invented the Drones Club, where Bertie Wooster popped in to avoid Aunts and other undesirables, and the Junior Ganymede Club which was for gentlemen's gentlemen (valets). Dorothy Sayers invented the Egotists Club, and Arthur Conan Doyle created several fictitious clubs in his Sherlock Holmes' stories, most famously the Diogenes Club. There are many more.

And then there are the actual historical clubs, the three most famous in Regency times being Whites (established  in 1693), Brooks's (1764), and Boodles (1762). There was also Watiers, which was started by the Prince Regent and named for his chef, who ran it, and the Cocoa Tree Club, (whose chocolate house origin is obvious) and many others. 

 

White's  at 37-38 St. James St. began as a chocolate house owned by an Italian named Francesco Bianco  who Anglicized his name to Francis White. Whites became famous for its bow window, built in 1811, where Brummel and his cronies sat and ogled any pretty female who wandered by. I say 'females' because no proper young lady would dream of walking down St. James's St.

 

Whites' was so exclusive that it was claimed that when an heir to a great family was born, the child's name was put down for membership at Whites before his birth was even was registered. Its members have included Beau Brummel and Baron Alvanley, Horace Walpole Edward VII, Evelyn Waugh, David Niven and the current Prince of Wales.

Brooks's at 60 St. James St,  was founded in 1764 by 27 rich young men, four of them dukes. They were young, rich, outrageous and wild, and the club soon became known for wildness and high stakes gambling. It was also the most political of the clubs, and to this day the members of Brooks's are a force in the land.  

 

Brook's was originally kept by a man called Almack (yes, that Almack — some sources claim he was actually named William Macall but reversed the syllables of his unfashionably Scottish name to become Almack) but it was taken over by his former employee, Brooks, whose name it still bears, when Almack established the famous Assembly Rooms -- which you should note, also encouraged gambling, this time for both genders. [Above: The interior of a gaming room at Brooks's, Rowlandson and Pugin, 1808.]

 

Boodles, at 28 St. James St, was, by contrast, the club with a reputation for attracting country squires and the "fox hunting set". 

In practice many gentlemen would be members of a number of clubs, and it was not simply for gambling that men gathered there. A man's club was a home away from home, a place where he could escape his wife, his mistress, and his creditors, where he could while away the evening in convivial company, and get a good plain dinner and a comfortable bed for the night. 

Many of the early clubs began life as coffee and chocolate-drinking houses in the  17th century, over time becoming meeting places for people of similar political persuasion, and at various times were regarded as hotbed of political sedition; indeed the Cocoa Tree was once considered the headquarters of the Jacobite Party. 

What most clubs had in common was gambling, which was illegal outside of members-only establishments. Chocolate and coffee houses were open to anyone with the money to pay, and since young gentlemen with fat purses attracted men eager to relieve them off their fortunes— by fair means or foul— clubs, with  exclusive entry criteria, were seen as a solution. So while aristocratic parents might deplore their sons' gambling, they comforted themselves with the reflection that in establishments like 'gentlemen's clubs' they could be sure the play was fair (the gentlemanly code of honor ensured that,) so that if their sons were to be fleeced, it would be by a gentleman, at least.

It was more than that, of course. The private 'code of conduct' ensured that the club was a place where men could discuss business in private, and off the record.'Many a political and business deal has been brokered over a long dinner at the club, and the practice still continues today.

Exclusivity always brings a certain cachet to any establishment, and at a time when men with 'new money' were trying to push their way into the upper classes, the clubs had a quietly elegant and ruthless way of keeping newcomers out. Members had to be elected --  a man would be proposed for membership by one or more members, then each member would vote in a secret ballot by dropping a white ball or a black ball into a receptacle. All it took was one black ball for a man to be denied membership — the origin of the term "to be black-balled." The Garrick Club justified it thus: "it would be better that ten unobjectionable men should be excluded than one terrible bore should be admitted."

The response to this was the proliferation of clubs that developed during the Victorian era, but as always, the most exclusive clubs remained the most desirable, and the inner workings of the most exclusive clubs remains secret.

The notion of exclusive gentlemen's clubs spread across the Atlantic and also downunder. In my home city, we have The Melbourne Club, established in 1839. It's long been considered the headquarters of the conservative establishment and its influence reaches Australia wide. The US has its own similar clubs;  the  Knickerbocker Club, of New York, founded in 1871, the Pacific-Union Club in San Francisco, the California Club in Los Angeles, Union Club and the Somerset Club in Boston.

In the early years of the 20th century women's clubs were established and many still exist today. I visited one in Melbourne once, the Lyceum Club, which was established in Melbourne in 1912, though there are Lyceum clubs in many parts of the world.  Membership is restricted to women graduates and other women who have distinguished themselves in art, music, literature, philanthropy or public service. I had a wonderful dinner in the restaurant there with two members, and was charmed and impressed by the library, which has a whole section devoted to books written by its members — some of the great female writers of the past century. There was something wonderfully personal about it, and the visit made me understand the appeal of a club — it's much homier than a hotel. 

 But I've gone off track, as is usual with me, when I get caught up in research. I need a club for my "devil riders" (Rafe, Luke, Harry and Gabe) to meet in. I don't want it to be one of the main clubs -- I'm thinking of a place where young men would go, not to be fashionable, or to gamble excessively, nor to relive old soldier stories — I imagine they'd avoid that like the plague — but somewhere to stay when in London, a home away from home, a masculine retreat.

So I'm asking for help — any suggestions for a club for my guys to meet in?  Should it be real or fictional? If fictional I want a name and a thumbnail sketch of what it's like. No prizes, but if your name takes my fancy I'll use it in my book and credit you with it.

Otherwise, are you a member of any club? A tennis club, a book club — it doesn't matter. What is your club and why do you like being a member of it? 

Welcome to The New Wench! Nicola Cornick

Anne here. As regular readers of this blog know, there have been shifts and changes in the Word Wench line-up over the last few months, as first Loretta, then Edith, then Susan Holloway Scott decided to concentrate on their books and become Wenches Emeritae, still part of the community, but only blogging occasionally, rather than every fortnight. 

Andrea Pickens has already joined us as a part timer (a demi-wench?) and we've had another Honorary Word Wench poised on the slip-rails for some time, shrouded in mystery and waiting to be launched as a regular Word Wench on June 5th. And I've been poised to crack a large bottle of champagne over her head, make a small speech and shove her into the water. ;)

 Edith's death has devastated us all, but one of our last joint decisions with her was to invite Nicola Cornick to become our newest wench, and we, as a group, feel very sure that Edith would want us to go ahead with Nicola's planned launch date, and do it joyfully and with celebrations. 

So please join us in welcoming Nicola Cornick. Nicola has been interviewed here before and has blogged as a guest. She's a talented, popular and prolific author and, living in England, she ensures that we're now even more global. Welcome Nicola! 

Thank you to Anne for such a moving, gracious (and damp?!) introduction and to all the Word Wenches for a very warm welcome indeed. It is a huge privilege to be invited to join the ranks of the Word Wenches and I am honoured to be here and will do my very best to uphold the traditions that Edith and all the other Wenches have established with such wit and charm.

I write Regency-set historicals and this month sees the launch of my new series, the Brides of Fortune. The heroine of the first book in the series, The Confessions of a Duchess, is Laura Cole, dowager duchess and former highwaywoman. Laura’s adventures began back in my previous book, Unmasked, when she was one of the leaders of the Glory Girls, a band of outlaws who worked to protect the poor and the weak against the injustices of society. Whilst I was writing Unmasked I was prompted to wonder what exactly is the appeal of the outlaw hero – or heroine – not just in fiction but why is it so deeply rooted in myth and legend? Are these characters criminals and as such can their exploits never be justified? Or do they represent some primal desire within us all for justice and equity?

There is a new film of the Robin Hood legend currently in the making, featuring Russell Crowe as Robin and with the new twist that the Sheriff of Nottingham is one of the good guys. At the same time the BBC drama of the same name is in its third series, much of its appeal deriving from a young and good looking cast and a rather knowing, deliberate use of anachronism! But why is this outlaw so popular? Robin and his Merry Men are legendary characters but they are the most sympathetic outlaws in history.

 

The earliest folk tales about Robin Hood date from the 13th century. Famous for stealing from the rich and giving to the poor, Robin has been variously depicted as a commoner or as a dispossessed nobleman, Robin of Loxley. The original tales of his activities place him in Yorkshire but by the 16^th century he had moved to Nottinghamshire and taken up residence with his Merry Men (and Maid Marian, a 16^th century love interest addition) in Sherwood Forest.  It is in the ballad-style narratives of the 15th and 16th Centuries that Robin’s story really takes shape. In these tales most of the present-day legend is already in place. We have Robin’s dedication to protecting the poor and needy, his brilliant skill as an archer and his dislike of corrupt authority.

 

There are some very appealing elements to the Robin Hood legend. The camaraderie, the idea of rebellion against a corrupt society, the romance and the timeless theme of good versus evil are all very attractive ideas. And in the current economic climate of recession, the Robin Hood legend also resonates with people. In a BBC interview Thomas Hahn, professor of English at Rochester University commented that the character’s popularity had long represented people’s frustrations with life in a capitalist society. Although the legend is medieval in origin his contention is that “it is a fantasy broad and deep enough to possess the imaginations of people in almost all times and places.”

 

It is interesting that the popularity of the Robin Hood legend blossomed in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, a time of capitalist enterprise. One outlaw theme that developed later, during the Regency era, was that of the pirate. Lord Byron had a great deal to do with promoting the cult of the pirate as hero. His poem The Corsair was published in the summer of 1814 and was immediately interpreted by an eager public as a smouldering, piratical self-portrait.  When taken in combination with a painting of Byron sporting an exotic headscarf and cutlass, the poem added yet another fantasy element that fed Byron’s celebrity status.

Ten thousand copies of The Corsair were sold on the day of publication. Byron had  based his story on tales of Barbary pirates who sailed the Mediterranean and Aegean kidnapping men and women to sell as slaves. He idealised his hero, Conrad, as “a man of loneliness and mystery.” In effect his poem was a wildly romantic fantasy on the brutal reality of pirating but it caught the public imagination. Like the Robin Hood legend, the cult of the pirate changed and grew through the following decades and centuries. There were five different ballets inspired by Byron’s poem between 1826 and 1856. The corsair cult spread to other arts and like the Robin Hood legend, was transformed again with the birth of the movie industry.

 

Arguably Robin Hood was the first footpad or highwayman. The idea of a nobleman fallen from grace, the protector of the poor and weak who is up against an oppressive regime is a very powerful one. There is a real gap between reality and fantasy here. In reality highway robbery was violent, dangerous and criminal but in the public imagination it is romanticised and glamorous. The highwayman is seen as dashing and likeable, a rogue with the qualities of courage and confidence, someone with not only strength of personality as well as skill with arms but arguably a superb horseman, a possessor of stamina and patience. Claude Duval, a Frenchman who emigrated to England in the 1660s did much to reinforce this view of the highwayman as gentleman, with the polished gallantry with which his carried out his robberies, his Gallic good looks and flirtatious tendencies!

 

Highway robbery flourished at a time when the hold of government and of law and order was incomplete or when the forces of government were unpopular or illegitimate. It also required some degree of economic prosperity in order for the highwayman to have appropriately wealthy victims. By the beginning of the nineteenth century, when the implementation of the law was becoming stronger and more organised, highway robbery started to decline and the highwayman’s exploits turned into legend.

 

So is the appeal of the outlaw hero a celebration of liberty?  Do they act as an example to all of us by being completely free and personify some of the aspirations that lie deep in many of  us, not to go out and commit a criminal act, but to be a devil-may-care individualist? What do you think? Does the outlaw hero or heroine appeal to you in fiction or do you think that outlaws are no more than criminals? Who is your favourite outlaw or your favourite film/book with an outlaw hero or heroine?

 

 I’ll be giving away a signed copy of The Confessions of a Duchess to a winner drawn at random from one of the people who leave a comment here. Thank you!

Sad News about a Great Lady: In memory of Edith Layton Felber

To our regret, the Word Wenches must announce the death this morning of Edith Layton after five years of very private struggles with cancer.  During those years, she continued to write her wonderful books, post blogs, and welcome two much adored grandsons into the world. 

If any of you met Edith in person, you know what a warm, incredibly funny person she was.  And if you’ve read her books—you know exactly the same thing.   

She was a born New Yorker, with all the wit and sassiness that implies.  She was proud of her Jewish heritage, and adored blond men with English accents.  She loved her three children and two grandchildren deeply, and they returned that love. 

Edith was one of the first writers I met at my very first conference, when I’d just sold my first Signet Regency, and she has been a friend and mentor ever since.  I could go on about her for a very long time, but this blog is a tribute to Edith, and there are many, many people who remember her with equal warmth.  Below are some of those tributes.  Please add your own—later we wish to collect these for her family.

From Wench Andrea Pickens:

I remember very vividly my first meeting with Edith. I had just sold my first Regency to Signet, and was attending my first RWA Conference. I was completely clueless about the publishing world, having by sheer blind luck managed to stumble through the process of  finding an agent and actually selling my manuscript. My editor, Hilary Ross, rolled her eyes at my dumb questions and said, "I think you need some advice." Looking around, she spotted Edith having a cup of coffee in the lounge. "Oh, there's Edith Layton. She's the perfect person to talk to."

I froze in my tracks. THE Edith Layton? The goddess whose books I adored? No way I would dare approach her!  I tried to dig in my heels but Hilary had me firmly by the elbow and marched me to the chair—or rather, the throne. Edith, as always, looked perfectly regal decked out in her jewel tone florals and gorgeous jewelry. I was probably tongue-tied, but it didn't matter. She smiled and with her pithy wit and warmth spent the next little while making me feel welcome to the sisterhood of writers. I'll never forget her incredible kindness—and her generosity in sharing her experience and advice with a total stranger and unfledged author.

I was lucky enough to become friends with her over the years, and as a person and author she enriched my life more than I can say. Oh, I will miss you, Edith!

From Wench Jo Beverley:

I'll always remember Edith smiling. She's always been a warm and vibrant member
of the romance writing community, especially the regency romance writing
community. She'll be missed for her liveliness and her wit both in her person
and her books.

From regular Wench guest Margaret Evans Porter:

It's hard losing someone I've known since before I was published--more than 20 years.  When I first met Edith in person, at an RWA conference, I was an over-excited fan-girl who had just sold her first Regency.  In the blink of I eye, it seemed, I became not only her fan, but her friend.  We often corresponded by letter, way back in the pre-email days, and then by email. 

There are so many memories, mostly associated with writers' conferences, but some were not.  Like the time I was at her house on Long Island and Abraham, her huge Bernese Mountain Dog jumped right into my lap, and we laughed and laughed.  Her home was full of love and laughter, with an eclectic mix of art and antiques.  I remember her study, her writing room, where she crafted all those memorable stories--the crammed bookshelves and books piled on the floor.  I adored Norbert, her delightful doctor husband, who accompanied her to many a conference (as did Abraham the dog, sometimes!) 

I fondly remember more than a few dinners together in various hotel restaurants--good food, entertaining--and often hilarious--conversations.  Eventually I met Susan and Adam and Mike, the kids of whom she was so proud.  She didn't have many years as a grandma, but how thrilled she was to be one.
 
She was incredibly talented and a consummate professional and so very brave.  I'm thankful for her body of work.  The phrase associated with Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire: "the face without a frown."  I've always thought of Edith that way, and told her so.  Because whenever I think of her, I see her smiling. 

From Robin Rue, a former agent of Edith’s:

She was a wonderful, classy, talented lady.  I loved working with her, and had so much respect for what a research wonk she was.  She will be missed. 

From Wench Susan Holloway Scott:

When I was first published as a romance writer, one of the greatest compliments a reviewer paid me was to say my writing reminded her of Edith Layton's. Of course Edith's writing was in class by itself, full of the same wit and charm that were hers as a person. While books fall in and out of print, that special spark will continue through her much-loved children and grandchildren. 
The world is a little less merry today without her in it...we miss you, Edith!

From Wench Susan King/Sarah Gabriel:

The first time I saw the legendary Edith Layton was at an RWA conference, when I was a newbie in awe of her and she didn't have a clue who I was. Someone said, "Look, here's Edith, let me introduce you--" I turned, and there she was riding alone down an escalator in bright sunlight -- what a grand entrance! Dressed to kill, red hair and lips, and the biggest, warmest, most wonderful smile. She grabbed me in a hug - didn't know the trembling newbie but was sweet to her - and she was deliciously friendly, then and each time we met and chatted over the years.

What a Grande Dame she was, and showed the rest of us how to be the best - the bestest, as she would have said - that we could be, as writers and people. I was delighted each time I saw her, thrilled when she joined Wenches, and deeply grateful when she read my Lady Macbeth, loved it, effused in e-mails as we discussed writing medievals, and gave me a kind and generous quote that I will always treasure. That quote is frameable art to me now.
 
What I'll also remember about Edith is how funny she was just by her bubbly nature, without ever trying. And I will remember her wonderful, whimsical way with words (though she didn't like a string of "W's" in speech for some reason, sorry, Edith!). I learned new words from her, like: bestest, luff, lurvings, lurve, mostest, and she was all of those -- the bestest, the most luffing, the mostest ever.
Thank you, Edith. We adore you.

From Wench Patricia Rice:

I remember meeting Edith first at a conference when she and Joan Wolf were sitting behind me, discussing horses.  I was a brand newbie, and they were two of my absolute favoritest authors. It was all I could do not to fall on my knees and worship, but I was too backward to do even that much. 

Later, after meeting Edith through our NAL editor's dinners, I learned she was the funniest, warmest woman I've ever met, par none.  Even through the devastation of the loss of her husband, she was reassuring others that she was fine, and she was making jokes in his memory. She and her wonderfully talented children showed me the real NYC nightlife and created evenings I'll never forget.

My life would not be the same if Edith hadn't been in it.  I'm not certain my life would have been the same even if I'd never met her, because it was wonderfully witty books like hers that enticed me into writing.  Beautiful amber and sunshine to you, Edith--I know you're up there, shining down on us all and laughing right now.

From Wench Anne Gracie:

I've only known Edith cyberly, on Regency loops and author loops great and small, but even on line, out of thousands of voices, hers always rang true and clear and original.  And funny. As for her books, I have a pile of keepers here in which she will live on forever.

My deepest sympathy to her family and her many close friends. And to her dog.
Vale that Layton Woman.

From Edith's long time editor, Hilary Ross:

From the beginning I liked Edith's books very much and enjoyed being her editor.   Then she needed a title for the last book in the Love trilogy.  I suggested the title Surrender to Love.  Edith wrote me that it sounded cheap, like something out of a movie magazine.  I wrote her back that it was a quote from Virgil. 

I then received an hysterically funny letter from Edith full of pseudo Latin along with agreement to use the quote as a title.  From that moment on I knew I had to have Edith as a personal friend.  It did work out that way and I will always
remember our close friendship and all the wonderful times we had together.  I will miss her tremendously.

From Wench Loretta Chase:

So there I was, a million years ago, trying to decide if it made sense to write romances.  My sister gave me some traditional Regencies to read.  One of them was The Duke’s Wager.  At the time, I still had a bit of snobbishness about romance.  But Edith cured me.  “She can write!  She can actually write!” thought I, astonished.  Lots of writers can tell a story, but she had a style, distinctive, and a true love of language.  Oh, those wonderful sentences! 

I met her at a New Jersey Romance Writers conference, where she was responsible for my first fangirl episode.  There she deservedly won an award for that very book.  The speech she gave was exactly like her writing, absolutely, totally Edith.  I was exchanging emails with her only a short time ago.  I can’t believe That Layton Woman, so full of life, is gone.

For more information about Edith, go to her website, http://edithlayton.com/ Or click on her name on the bottom of this blog, and that will bring up a page of her wonderfully witty blogs.  Here's are links to two delicious posts written by her daughter, Susie Felber, and titled Daughter of Romance 1 and Daughter of Romance 2.  They have lots of great pictures of Edith at work and at play. 

Plus, in the column on the right under "Additional Pages," you'll find a file for a downloadable commemorative Layton bookmark.

Tell us what Edith and her books meant to you, so we can smile through our tears. (To leave a comment, click on "comments" at the bottom of this post.)

Mary Jo and all the other Wenches

PS:  Several people have expressed regret that they've read the last Edith Layton book.  In fact, she finished one two months ago, so there is one more by the grande dame still to look forward to--MJP

Winners of the Diabolical Anniversary Contest!

by Mary Jo

This was one seriously difficult contest!  If there had been space for longer excerpts, it probably would have been easier, but with seven writers represented, that would have been humongously long.  Plus, we’re all writing historical romances, most of them set around the same time period.  My hat is off to all of you who were willing to take a guess.

If it’s any comfort, while you struggled to identify the writers, we struggled to come up with an equitable way to distribute prizes and reward both accuracy and speed. 

And now for the identifications!

Only two of the books have been published (Susan King and Nicola Cornick)—the others are in the pipeline, which was still another form of confusion: 

1) Susan King as Sarah Gabriel, The Highland Groom (1/09)
 
2) Nicola Cornick, An Unlikely Suitor (published)
 
3) Jo Beverley,  The Secret Duke (4/10)
 
4) Pat Rice, Mystic Warrior (7/09)
 
5) Andrea Pickens w/a Cara Elliott—To Sin With A Scoundrel  (3/10, I think)
 
6) Anne Gracie, To Capture a Bride (9/09, I think)
 
7) Mary Jo Putney, untitled 2010 Lost Lords novel (5/10)

Now, for the winners.  No one got all of the authors correct, but two people got five right, and two people got four right.  So—the two people who got the five correct answers will get two books each, and the two who got four correct answers will each get a book.  The books will be come from the authors in the order of the list above.

Top winner—Cheryl C., the first to come up with 5 correct answers.  She’ll get books from Wenches #1 and 2: Susan King/Sarah Gabriel and Nicola Cornic.

Co-winner, who also got five correct answers—Liz M.  She’ll get books from Jo Beverley and Patricia Rice.

Second places (four correct answers): 

First runner up is Stephanie.  She gets a book from Andrea Pickens. 

Next runner up is Cyclops8, who has a good eye for a being that has only one eye. <G>  She’ll get a book from Anne Gracie.

That leaves one book—the ARC of Loving a Lost Lord, my July book.  Because this was such a difficult challenge, we decided to give book #7 to a person chosen at random from all those who had the courage to enter.  And the ARC winner is--PamBook! 

A few observations on the contest.  The most commonly guessed correct answer was for Nicola Cornic after the very knowledgeable Laura Vivanco correctly identified the author, title and series.  Nicola had thought that book was read by maybe 7 people, so she was gratified.  <G>

Pat Rice’s book was also identified quite often, possibly because it’s the third book in a trilogy and had a lot of clues for the perspicacious.  I think Anne Gracie and I were confused with each other the most often—we were both honored by the comparison. <G> 

Thanks so much for playing with us!  I wonder what we’ll do next anniversary. <g>

Mary Jo

Happy Anniversary to the Word Wenches! Or, “A voice, a voice, my kingdom for a voice!”

by Mary Jo

The Word Wenches have been blogging for three years, which is no small feat in the ephemeral world of cyberspace.  That means it’s time for a special anniversary blog.  Who could forget our famous Getting Naked with the Wenches blogs to celebrate our first year, Parts I, II, and III? 

Last year, we posted pictures of ourselves as young ‘uns, and asked our readers to identify us.  How could we top that?

Aha!  A thought occurs.  One of an author’s most valuable assets is her unique voice: the sum of how she uses words, her interests, and her view of life.  Voice is often the difference between a good book that we love and will reread, and an equally good book that we read and forget. 

All the Wenches, current and Emeritae, have strong voices.  Admittedly I’m not exactly objective, but when I’m reading comments to posts, I can always identify my fellow Wenches just by how they use words.  (And we can often identify regular commenters, too.) 

So—today’s contest is samples by all current Wenches, plus one new Wench who hasn’t yet been launched (that will happen next week), but who is already an Honorary Word Wench, so you aren’t working entirely blind. 

Below are seven samples, mostly but not always of books that have not yet been published.  The illustrations are just for fun.  How many can you identify?

Each of us will be giving away a book, though we aren’t yet sure how we’ll pick winners.  But if you can identify all or most of the Wenches by their voices, you’ve got a good shot of winning a book/s.  So without further adieu:

Wench 1:      

“She moved through the mist, lovely as a fairy sprite in a gown and bonnet gray as fog. Just a glance told him that she was all he could ever desire in a woman—gracefully shaped, with the sort of mysterious allure that would endlessly fascinate a man. With such a woman, the days, and the nights, too, would be filled with the happiness that had so long eluded him. He wondered who she was—and then wondered how quickly he could convince her to leave the hillside, and his property, too. She was trespassing.      

Folding his arms, he watched as the young woman took the slope upward to where the foothills met the mountain. Behind him was a stone wall, inside that a valuable cache, and within arm’s reach, a loaded pistol with which to protect it. He stood still and silent, breathing, waiting. “

Wench 2:

    “She felt oddly at a loss, as though the clear definition of their relationship had  somehow been blurred.  He was a shopkeeper’s son and she was an admiral’s daughter, and with the shop counter between them she had allowed herself to dream a little.  He might always speak to everyone in the same manner, but there was a decided hint of warmth when he addressed her, an admiration in his eyes that had made her heart beat a little faster.  Then he had been so kind to her when her father had died.  He scarcely knew her and yet his words of comfort had been so perceptive.

    Caroline was right - she had been calling in at the draper's shop more often of late, contriving an order of ribbons here, a pair of gloves there.  She blushed to think of it now.  She had thought… But here her thoughts became at the best confused. 

    Was she a snob, aware of her status and the relative inferiority of his, or was she above such things, scornful of those whose lives were ruled by rank and privilege? 

Whatever the case, she had never met Barnabas Hammond in a situation such as this and it made her feel strangely vulnerable.

The odd effect he had on her caused her voice to come out with decidedly squeaky overtones when she would have preferred to sound authoritative. 

“Mr Hammond, what do you mean by creeping around in the dark – and with this-” She gestured with her foot towards the offending sack.  It seemed obvious that he had been poaching and worse, that his quarry was still alive.“I would have thought better of you!”  She finished with self-righteous indignation.

“Would you?”  Barney Hammond sounded surprised and amused.  “Naturally, I am flattered, Miss Brabant, but why should you?”

Wench 3:

“Laughter can take many forms, from the gibber of madness to the pure delight of a happy child. The laughter that slithered out into the misty Dover night was the sound of cruel men with a victim in their clutches. It stopped the man in the street.

To his left, water slapped against the wharf, and wind rattled the riggings of ships and jangled a buoy bell. To his right, lanterns hung outside buildings were merely gleaming globes in the sea mist, giving only enough light for him to avoid the larger detritus of any port -- rope, bales, and broken casks.”

Wench 4:

“Taking a deep breath to steady her ragged nerves now that she was so close to her objective, she entered the edge of the woodland.  As if a fire-breathing dragon lurked in the shadows under the trees, a cloud of smoke engulfed her, and she coughed harshly.

A rabbit dashed across her foot. She tripped and caught her balance on a tall standing stone. The rock was so hot, she quickly withdrew her palm before it burned.
 

She dragged her gown up from where it tangled her feet, and held the fabric in her hands, striding faster. She doubted anyone could see her in this murk, and her lungs would appreciate a hasty departure….

 A demon shot through the smoke at inhuman speed. She glimpsed only a blur of broad, filthy bare chest before iron arms tackled her waist. She shrieked as the creature tore her heels from the ground and tumbled with her into the ashes on the far side of the lane.

 Another fiery geyser spewed into the air on the spot where she’d just been standing.”

Wench 5:

    “The lady was still wearing the same hideous headcovering as when she had left the house. Its voluminous clouds of black gauze made her look like a walking stormcloud. 
     “Get out!” Her thunderclap of fury did nothing to dispel the impression. “This instant.”
    Strange, but for a heartbeat Lucas had a prickling feeling that they had encountered each other before. He shook it off and replied, “Not until you do me the courtesy of hearing me out.”

    “How dare you accuse me of bad manners! You are hardly entitled to lecture anyone on proper behavior.”

Lucas tapped his forefinger to the erotic etching. “Neither are you.”

    Her shoulders stiffened and her head came up a fraction. She was taller than he had imagined, and for some odd reason he had the impression that beneath the crow black coverings the arch of her neck was graceful as that of a swan.
    “Get out,” she repeated. “I warn you, I don’t mean to tolerate this invasion of my privacy.”

    Lucas crossed his legs and waggled a boot. “What do you intend to do—pull out a pistol and shoot me? I had heard that poison was your preferred weapon.“
     “If I gave you a choice, I should imagine you would choose a blade. Word has it you fancy yourself quite a swordsman.”
    He laughed. “Touché, Lady Sheffield.” Pressing a hand to his chest, he exaggerated a grimace. “I appear to be hoist on my own petard.”
    The gauzy veil did little to blunt her daggered look. He could feel a thousand little points of steel prick into his flesh.
 “Your petard will not be hoisting itself—much less anything else—in this house,” she retorted.”

Wench 6:

    “A. nodded and stepped forward. The smile in his eyes made her feel a little shy. And the dress was all right, he'd said so.
      Behind her, Mrs. Ferris cleared her throat in a meaningful way and R. looked past A.
      “Mrs. Ferris, I presume,” he said with a smile. “R. at your service.”
      “You are here to escort this girl?” she said in faint disbelief.
      A. bridled at her tone.
      “I am,” R. confirmed, holding his arm out for A. to take. She stepped forward and placed her hand on his arm. He covered it with his own.
       Mrs. Ferris's lips thinned. “She said you were her grandmother's friend.”
      “That is correct.”
      “But I was expecting a much older man.”
     He raised one dark brow. “Were you, ma'am?” he said in a manner that suggested, ever so politely, that it was none of her business. “Life is full of disappointments, isn't it?” And he led A. away.
      She maintained a dignified walk until they reached the end of the corridor, then she gave a gleeful little skip. “I am so glad you were rude to that woman. She is such a—a-”
      “I wasn't the least bit rude,” he said. “I was extremely polite.”
      “Yes, politely rude.” She tried to think of how to describe what he'd done. “Like a very polite wasp.”

Wench 7: 

     “I was interested even when you were a village midwife,” he said slowly.  “Granted, your rank will make it easier for others to accept you as my wife, but the main reason I looked elsewhere was because you appeared to want nothing to do with me.   I didn’t think I could change your mind, but I did want to see you again.  Just in case.”  
     She looked down at the embers of the fire.  “You humble me, Major.  I don’t deserve your regard, but I’m grateful for it.”
     “To say you don’t deserve my regard implies that I have poor taste,” he said with lurking humor.  “Quite the contrary.”
     She laughed.  “My apologies.”  Her laugh turned into a yawn.  
     “Sleep now.  You must be exhausted.”
     “I am.”  She raised her gaze to him.  “I would never have imagined such a day as this one.”
     “Nor would I.  Yet here we are.”  He gave one of his rare, surprisingly sweet smiles.  “I think we shall deal well together, Julia.”
     “I hope so.”  She lay down and wrapped the blanket around her, so tired that she didn’t mind the unyielding floor.  Agreeing to marry a virtual stranger was madness.  But it was good to have someone concerned on her behalf.  She’d been alone so long….”

So who is who?  Which voice belongs to which Wench?  The best answers between now and midnight Friday will win some books.

And just to liven the pot--I'm giving away an advance reading copy of Loving a Lost Lord.

Have fun solving our anniversary puzzle!

Mary Jo, asking forgiveness for quirky Typepad spacing

 

Raise your tea cups...

Anne here.

How on earth do you follow on after a fabulous act like Mary Balogh and Jo Beverley? I sat down with a coffee to ponder the problem, and thought if that if they'd just done a library talk, of the sort many of our local authors do in Australia, we'd probably follow the talk with afternoon tea. And since both Mary and Jo originally hail from the UK, they would no doubt enjoy it, too.

 Afternoon tea is still something of an institution here, especially in the country, where any gathering is an excuse for a party. And as it's daylight, and the party is mostly  by and for women, it's all about cakes. And scones. And cream. And sandwiches, small and dainty with the crusts cut off. And sausage rolls. Every woman has her speciality, and the rivalry is quietly intense. 

When I was a child, I loved these events. While my mother and grandmother and other female relatives were in a frenzy of baking, my job was to take out all the cups and sauces and plates, wash them and match them all up, polish the tiny silver teaspoons and set them all out on the side table. Every cup set was different and I had my favorites. Here are some of the cups of my childhood; my grandmother's and mother's.

Not a lot has changed, I'm told. A romance writer friend who lives in the country is hugely in demand for library talks. People tell her she should at least charge petrol money, as she often drives an hour or more each way, but no, she confessed to me once, she does it for the cakes. LOL. Country women come to her talks in the spirit of a party get-together, so they bring sponges, cream cakes, scones, sandwiches and sausage rolls, all home made and delicious. 

It's not quite the afternoon tea that the grand hotels put on these days, but the origins are the same, stemming from the custom that flowered particularly in the Victorian era. 

 

It's claimed that the custom originated with The Duchess of Bedford, one of Queen Victoria's Ladies in Waiting. According to this site,"the Duchess suffered from "a sinking feeling" at about four o'clock in the afternoon. At first the Duchess had her servants sneak her a pot of tea and a few breadstuffs. Adopting the European tea service format, she invited friends to join her for an additional afternoon meal at five o'clock in her rooms at Belvoir Castle. The menu centered around small cakes, bread and butter sandwiches, assorted sweets, and, of course, tea. This summer practice proved so popular, the Duchess continued it when she returned to London, sending cards to her friends asking them to join her for "tea and a walking the fields." The practice of inviting friends to come for tea in the afternoon was quickly picked up by other social hostesses."

Perhaps the Duchess made the timing of afternoon tea fashionable, but the custom was obviously already established. In a letter to her brother in 1801, Catherine Wilmot, an Irish lady traveling on the continent, wrote of a French "thé" she attended. "The table was spread with Tea, Cakes, Bon-bons, pâtisserie of all kinds, confitures (jams and fruit pastes) etc. and afterward an enormous bowl of Ponch (punch) and Liqueurs, all of which they thought perfectly à la l'Angloise."  (English)

And before that, tea gardens were very popular in the 18th century, where ladies and gentlemen gathered in the open to drink tea, nibble on dainty food and be entertained by musicians or to simply stroll about.

But however it started, let us take afternoon tea together. Since I am the hostess, I'll provide the basics. Scones are a must; plain scones for eating with jam and cream, and date scones for eating with butter. 

Scones are a wonderful source of debate on Regency loops -- I don't know how many discussions I've seen where people have hotly argued the difference between scones and American biscuits.  But since this is a tea party, let us not debate, but simply eat, scones and biscuits both welcome. Here is a recipe for scones from the always reliable Delia Smith. 

The secret to good scones is to keep everything cool and not to handle the dough very much. Use a knife to mix and knead very lightly - as much as it takes to put it together. And here is a cheat's recipe for scones made with what we call lemonade but what is really plain sweet soda -- something like 7-Up, I imagine -- there's no lemon taste. 

Then there's jelly cakes. My friend Red makes jelly cakes (jello cakes) that are a blast from the past and are so delicious she's not allowed to go anywhere without bringing them. Small light "fairy cakes" dipped in half-set red jelly (jello) then rolled in coconut, and a few hours before serving, sliced open and filled with cream so that by the time you come to eat them they are squishy and delicious. Childhood delight. I've seen grown men line up for them, practically weeping at the sight! In searching for the pic on the right, I found out that some people actually buy plain cake from the supermarket, cut it into cubes and roll it in jelly and coconut for a quick cheats jelly cake! Works for me. ;)

A method for cucumber sandwiches is here, but really I think I'll ask my friend Meredith to bring sandwiches -- she's famed for them, especially her chicken and avocado ones. 

And no good country cook would offer afternoon tea without a featherlight sponge. My friend Linda makes great sponges. I was looking for pictures of the perfect sponge, and came across a site where a former president of the Countrywomen's Association was talking about the perfect sponge. 

She remembers the Sundays of her youth just after World War II. "We'd light the oven, put in the roast and go to church," she says. "When we got back we'd put the vegies in and cook the Yorkshire pudding. Then we'd wash up and start baking proper for high tea."

High tea was a lighter meal enjoyed in the early evening and the sponge cake was pivotal, the "must have" cake that proved the ability of the cook. It was always a talking point.

"Our friends stayed dancing and eating cake until 10 o'clock when dad kicked them out. But when a boyfriend got his feet under Mum's table it was very hard to get rid of them. I'm still married to the last one," MacLeod laughs.

As for the question of whether men can make a sponge, she smiles. "There is need for lightness to make a sponge. It is almost as if you are caressing the flour into the mixture. Men know how to caress if they know how to caress their woman."

Isn't that charming? Such a delightful variation on "Can she bake a cherry pie, Billy Boy, Billy Boy?"  changing the words to "Can you bake a lovely sponge, Billy Boy, Billy Boy?" Much more my cup of tea.;)

So let us all sit down to afternoon tea, no matter what the time is where you are.  Choose a cup, a beverage of your choice, and perhaps you might like to order some beloved special food from the gatherings of your childhood. You can sit with anyone— real person, living or dead or a fictional character. So, what would you like to eat, and who would you like to sit next to? Tell us about your afternoon tea...

Winners and Guests!

Winners!  We have more winners!  Kristina Watson and Mari Martin have won books from Anne Gracie.  Jane Irish Nelson won The Diamonds of Welbourne Manor anthology by Diane Gaston, Amanda McCabe, and Deb Marlowe.  Winners, please send your mailing address to Sherrie, if you haven't already.  Congratulations!

Mark your calendars for Wednesday, May 20, when Mary Balogh will be Jo Beverley's guest here at the Word Wenches.  Mary hardly needs an introduction, and we are thrilled to have her visit with us this coming Wednesday.  If you leave a comment, you will be eligible to win a book from Mary!

When writers meet...

Anne here. Last month I went away for five days on a writers' retreat, and since some of you have, at various times, asked about such things as critique partners and writers groups, I thought you might be interested in what we did. It's the third year we've gone on retreat — the same group of 11 people, roughly the same time of year, and we follow the same process, but of course, each time it's different.

It's a very special time for all of us, as we live far apart, coming from five different states in three corners of the country, and one from New Zealand, so it's simply wonderful to see each other face to face. Most Australian romance writers only see each other at the annual conference — there's only one for the whole country, and as Australia is geographically a similar size to mainland USA, you can see why we talk about the "tyranny of distance."

This makes our retreat even more special, as most of us also don't live near any other romance writer, or any other fiction writer.

Our first retreat was near a beach and the second one was in spa country, and we decided after that that we had to be near a beach. There's something magical about being beside the sea — dawn walks, sitting on the beach in the dark, listening to the waves and watching the moon, drawing a labyrinth in the sand, walking it contemplatively and later, watching the sea wash it away— it's all very inspirational.

Since we couldn't return to the first place (the owners of the eleven room Victorian era guesthouse sold it and the new owners are turning it into a family house) we decided that Sydney was probably the most central — none of us live there, several of us could drive there and for the rest of us it was just one flight. We stayed at Coogee Beach, and this was the scene from my room. Yep, it's a tough life, but someone has to do it. ;)

On the second night a storm blew in and those palm trees were whipping around and the waves were crashing in all night. It was warm and muggy and I slept with my sliding doors open and listened to the surf and the wind in the trees. It was superb. 

But even though it's beautiful, it's a work retreat. We're all working writers, earning our own living, so we can't justify the time away from computers and families for simple frivolity, and indeed we'd be foolish to waste the opportunity.

We start by meeting on the first night over wine and fish and chips and we plan a program for the 5 days. We have a formal session after each breakfast, lunch and dinner —  business discussions, craft-of-writing sessions,  "a writer's life," whatever — we brainstorm all the things we'd like to talk about during the retreat, assign a group leader for each one and then slot them into a timetable. 

In one session we had a pearl-knotting class, in which we talked about writing as we made necklaces — that one was filed under "refilling the creative well." We talked about endings and what makes a really good ending (I'll keep that for a separate blog topic), we talked about layering, we talked about where we were in our careers, we talked tax and the economic situation, we talked about breakout books, and continuities, we discussed editors and agents and about remembering to find the joy in our writing. 

In between those sessions we wrote. Some also met to brainstorm in small groups, or walk along the beach, or critique each other's work, but the writing time is inviolable — it's practically a crime to interrupt anyone who's writing, and since three of us were on deadline at the end of that week, nobody needed reminding. (They all made it, by the way.)

Critique is a growing part of our interaction. It's not so much a critique group — it's usually one or two individuals showing another their work  to a couple of others for particular feedback — "I've rewritten these first few chapters several times and now I don't know if it works, can you have a look, please?" or "There's something not working in this scene and I don't know what it is," — that sort of thing. We know each others' writing, our strengths and weaknesses and over the three years an amazing level of trust has grown between us. And within the group there is a level of wisdom and supportiveness and appreciation that's extraordinary. 

A highlight for me was when four of us holed up in someone's room one rainy afternoon and  brainstormed someone's three part series. We also brainstormed an alternative ending for another book and made it so much stronger. It's very stimulating process — really , IMO, the job of the brainstormer is not to tell the author what to do, but toss suggestions around in order to get her out of the plot possibility rut she'd been stuck in. The longer we do this, and the more we know each others' writing the better we get at it.

I must admit that another feature of this particular retreat was the food. Coogee is simply stuffed with fantastic eating places only 2 minutes walk in any direction. We went out for every meal — some had the full cooked breakfast, others a toasted sandwich and coffee. Lunch ranged from the most fabulous array of salads, to fresh sushi, noodles, or sandwiches. And dinner — well, let's say we did well for ourselves.

We developed a favorite breakfast restaurant, not because the food was so much better than other restaurants, but they had better um, ambience.  As one retreater recalled,  "the French waiter came over, fixed us with a stern visage and said...something. We're not sure what because the moment he started to speak our mouths went slack, our eyes glazed over and we lost all power of comprehension." 

It's always sad when the retreat has to end, but I feel so lucky to be part of this group. Friends are so important in life, but writing is a solitary occupation, and to have such supportive writing friends is a real privilege, I think. 

Do you have a group you regularly go away with? Where do you go? What do you do? What do you like about it? Do you have friends from work you share a special bond with? Do you have a critique group, or a reading group, or do you get together with friends for craft or other activities? What do you do with your friends that's special and fun and wonderful?

One person who leaves a comment will win a book by me and one by one of the other retreaters.

Nicola Cornick and "The Brides of Fortune"

Anne here, welcoming Nicola Cornick back to Word Wenchdom, as promised, to tell us about her upcoming trilogy, "The Brides of Fortune."  Nicola, welcome back. Tell us about these brides.

Nicola:~  Thanks, Anne, it's lovely to be back. The trilogy – or quartet, if you include the short story! – is set in the Regency period in the fictional Yorkshire town of Fortune’s Folly. The unscrupulous Lord of the Manor, Sir Montague Fortune, discovers that by a legal oversight, all the medieval taxes have never been repealed. So he sets out to exploit this by levying as many taxes as he can find on his townsfolk! Chief amongst them is the Dames’ Tax, which entitles him to take half of the wealth of every unmarried woman resident in the town unless she weds within a year. Word goes around the Ton that this is happening and all the fortune-hunters decide that they will journey to Yorkshire to try to persuade the heiresses that it would be preferable to marry than to give their money to Sir Montague. The ladies are trapped, of course. If they wed then legally all their money becomes the property of their husbands. If they don’t, Sir Montague will take half of it anyway! Naturally enough they are not going to give in without a fight!

Anne:~  It sounds like a lot of fun.

I confess, I love finding out what the inspiration, the spark was, that gave birth to particular books. Most writers I know have no trouble coming up with new ideas, in fact most of us have more ideas than we could ever write, so I love finding out what it was that made that one particular story demand to be written.  So, where did the initial idea for this trilogy come from?

Nicola:~  Although I write historical fiction I do get a lot of my ideas from modern themes and contemporary news stories. For example, I have written in the past about winning the national lottery and also about the cult of celebrity. The Fortune’s Folly trilogy was another idea that came from a modern newspaper. I read a report a couple of years ago of a man in Kent who had bought the title of Lord of the Manor of a particular village. He then discovered that as part of the deal he could tax all the villagers! No one had done it for centuries but he was a bit greedy and started to charge people to park on the village green when they went shopping, and to walk their dogs etc etc. The village was in uproar as a result. I read this and thought what a marvellous idea it would be to base a book around it. That developed into a trilogy as I went along!

Anne:~  Fascinating. And what sort of research did you do? 

Nicola:~ I had great fun researching medieval taxes as background.  My favourites were the childwite, which a man had to pay when he fathered an illegitimate child (and in many cases there was quite a lot of disagreement over who should be paying!) and the amober, which was the tax you had to pay the lord to waive his right to sleep with the bride on the wedding night! That one features in book 3 of the trilogy! On a more sober note I made Fortune’s Folly a spa town and I enjoyed researching the history of Harrogate and other northern spas. I particularly liked the fact that one of the spa water wells in Harrogate was called the “Stinking Spaw” because the sulphur made the water so smelly. I thought that was very descriptive! I even tried drinking the spa water myself so that I could identify with the experience of those characters who were taking the waters for their health! 

Anne:~  Gosh, that's taking research to brave heights. I'm not sure I'd quaff anything called stinking spaw! LOL. And this cartoon makes the same point— look at the picture upside down for the 'before taking the waters ' view.

Tell us about the heroes in this series.

Nicola:~ The heroes of the three trilogy books are all fortune hunters but they are also government agents who are using the fact that Fortune’s Folly has become the marriage mart of England as cover to pursue their investigations into a very influential and criminal local businessman, Warren Sampson. I decided to explore the idea of what we would call “home security” in the books, because I had read a lot about spies and counter spies during the Napoleonic Wars but I wanted to look at what was happening inside the country in terms of social stability and crime and disorder. I’d started exploring this with the Glory Girls highwaywomen in my previous book, Unmasked, and the trilogy really follows on from that. So the Guardians, as they are called, all work for the Home Secretary and have the brief of keeping the peace at home whilst Britain is engaged in fighting a threat overseas as well.

Anne:~  This is by no means your first series of linked books. How do you approach the writing of a series?  Do you collage? Plan it all out like a military campaign? Create a "bible" with all the details, character bios, etc. in it? Or do you make it up as you go along and note things down as they happen?  

Nicola:~  I do enjoy writing linked books and have written several series. What drives me to write series is that I love creating that Regency “world,” as I hope I have done with Fortune’s Folly, and peopling it with my characters. But I must confess that I find it very difficult because I am always plotting myself into a corner! What seems a great idea in book 1 turns out to be a problem for the heroine of book 3 somewhere down the line. I used to be a great deal more organised at planning when I was writing a series. In fact I used to be a great deal more organised in my writing full stop. These days I write by the seat of my pants. I make it up as I go along. I wish I was more of a planner but just at the moment this approach doesn’t seem to work for me and you have to go with what does work so that means launching myself in and hoping for the best!

Anne:~  I think there are few "organic writers' among the word wenches, so you're in good company there. You're launching the series with an electronic "prequel" I believe. This is a bit of an innovation, isn't it -- launching a print series with an e-book?  What is the prequel about?

Nicola:~  I believe Harlequin have done this once before for one of their paranormal single title series by Gena Showalter and it was a massive success, so fingers crossed! The suggestion to write a prequel came along as I was finishing book 3 of the series so I then had to go back and think what might be happening in Fortune’s Folly before Sir Montague discovered the Dames’ Tax. I decided that a bustling little market town was the perfect place for a fugitive to hide and so The Secrets of a Courtesan was born, in which my heroine, Eve Nightingale, has reinvented herself as a respectable shopkeeper in Fortune’s Folly and thinks her scandalous past has been buried. Of course it has not been buried deep enough… The e-book also sets the scene and introduces some of the characters in the series but it is a complete story in itself.

Anne:~  It sounds like a lot of fun. I'm looking forward to reading it. (Nicola's e-book, The Secrets of a Courtesan, is available from the Harlequin e-book store.)

 

Here is an extract from  The Secrets of a Courtesan:

Suddenly Rowarth was beside her, his hand on her elbow as he helped her to her feet, his touch searing her through the material of her sleeve. He picked up the slightly squashed cheese and handed it politely to her. Their fingers touched. Eve felt heat ripple through her awakening feelings she had thought long dead. Rowarth was summoning the dairyman and the butcher with authoritative gestures now to replace the items she had lost.

Money changed hands. Eve heard the clink of coin and the men’s mumbled thanks. She felt hot and dizzy, the sun beating down on her bonnet and dazzling her eyes. She tried to steady her breathing. There was not the remotest chance of escaping a confrontation with Rowarth now. He still held her, lightly but with a touch that made her entire body thrum with awareness.

“Eve.”

She looked up and met his eyes and again felt the shock like a physical blow. 

“Rowarth.” She was proud that her voice was so steady. “What an unexpected… surprise.”

His lips curved into a smile that was sinfully wicked but not remotely reassuring. “Is there any other sort?” he murmured.

“There are nice surprises,” Eve said.

“And then there is meeting me again.” His smile deepened. “Which I imagine falls into a different category given the alacrity with which you ran away from me.”

Pain twisted in Eve, bitter and sharp, not even slightly blunted with the passing of time. Yes, she had run from him. She had had no other choice in the world. And now, five years later, the mere sight of him could still affect her so profoundly that she felt faint and light-headed, her emotions stretched as taut as a wire.

But Rowarth’s measured tones had nothing but coldness in them for her now. Whatever feelings she still had for him, so deeply held that she had never quite been able to banish them, were not shared. Mistresses came and went, after all. He had been everything to her and there had never been anyone else for her since, but she could hardly expect it to be the same for him.

The crowds had melted away leaving them alone. People were still staring, though from a discreet distance. Women were staring. But then, Eve thought, women had always stared at Alasdair Rowarth. Women had always wanted him. He was handsome, he was rich and he was a duke. What more could one ask for?

Anne:~   Sounds most intriguing. Thanks so much for joining us again, Nicola. It's been a delightful visit.

Nicola:~  You're welcome, Anne. Thanks to you and the other Word Wenches for inviting me to be a guest.

  

Anne:~ The first print book in Nicola's Fortune’s Folly trilogy, The Confessions of a Duchess, will be out from HQN Books in June 2009 and the others will follow in consecutive months. And just look at these covers — aren't they gorrrrgeous? I'm envious.

Nicola has a question for you: What do you like about linked stories? Or dislike about them, for that matter?

She's offering a download of the e-book and a copy of the first trilogy book to two lucky commenters. (The e-book won't be available until the 20th May.)

Winners, Awards, TV Shows

BOOK WINNERS:

Laura Davies Tilley has won a book from Jo Beverley.  Dick won a book from guest Nicola Cornick.  Last but not least, Kathy Kremer has won a book from Pati Nagle.  We've been in touch with Laura and Kathy, but haven't heard from Dick yet.  Dick, please send Sherrie your mailing address.  Congratulations, winners! 

ANDREA SCORES:

Congratulations to Andrea, whose Seduced By A Spy just won the Romantic Times Reader's Choice Award for Best Historical Adventure Romance.  Way to go, Andrea!

ANNE'S A TV STAR:

On Friday, the 8th of May, Anne will be appearing on the national breakfast show “9AM With David & Kim” on Australian TV.

MORE BOOKMARKS:

See the next post, below this one.