Word Wenches

The Marriage Spell!

The Marriage Spell

by Mary Jo

Finally The Marriage Spell is available as an ebook!  Because the story has fantasy elements, it's listed as by "Mary Jo Putney writing as M. J. Putney."  I intended for the book to be first of a new series, but Ballantine didn't want that or me, so The Marriage Spell ended up being a standalone Regency historical with magic. and I went to a different publisher, Kensington, where I've been ever since. That's life in the book business!

I've been independently releasing my backlist books since 2011.  Production and cover development take time, which is why my backlist project has been going on so long. Now the cupboard is bare except for novellas and short stories.  (I intend to release those as well over time.)

An Interview with Sue Moorcroft

Christina here and today I'm delighted to have Sue Moorcroft as my guest.

Welcome back to the Word Wenches, Sue, it’s such a pleasure to have you here again!

Thank you very much for inviting me. I always enjoy the Word Wenches’ wonderful blog.

You have a new book out tomorrow, An Italian Island Summer, which I absolutely loved! Tell us a little bit about it, please.

Thank you! It’s set in Sicily, mainly on Ortigia, the old city of Siracusa, joined to the main city by two bridges. It’s a gorgeous place, with ruins such as Apollo’s Temple alongside the daily market. Ursula needs a fresh start, and via the mischievous meddling of her bonkers uncle Gerry, secures a morning job in a family-owned hotel to leave her afternoons free to study ceramic art. It’s quite a change from being a tattoo artist in Brighton, but after a drug assault in a nightclub that left her with trust issues, she’s keen to leave behind that life – and her ex-husband Stephan. She settles in at Residenza dei Tringali with Agata, Nanda and baby Marilù, until the son of the household, Alfio, returns home to help his family – only to find Ursula filling the role he’d seen for himself and even ensconced in the room he’d assumed he’d occupy.

Distrust soon turns to desire, but just when their affair is at its height … secrets of the past burst out to threaten their future.

💖 Happy 17th Anniversary to the Word Wenches! 💖

We're celebrating our 17th anniversary! 

Welcome to our virtual Regency tea party!

A little over 17 years ago, Mary Jo Putney, Susan King, and author and web-guru Eileen Buckholtz met in a restaurant to catch up and toss around some ideas. Eileen suggested a group blog--not something we'd thought much about. We took the idea to Patricia Rice, and it grew quickly from there. Soon we were joined by a few good friends, including the (late and wonderful) Jo Beverley and Edith Layton, and on May 22, 2006, we launched the Word Wenches blog. Since then, our roster has changed now and again. Eventually we were joined by Andrea Penrose, Anne Gracie, Nicola Cornick, and Christina Courtenay. Today, we're still delivering blogs about our favorite subjects--books, writing, history, romance, and whatever else comes to mind--to our favorite people: you, our readers. 

We want to thank YOU for following the blog, commenting, reading our books, and enjoying what we do. We wouldn't be here as bloggers or as authors without our readers! 

Today we've organized a Regency tea party -- and you're invited! Come with us to the home of newlyweds Arabella and Richard (conjured just for the occasion). We're all bringing goodies and housewarming gifts -- what would you bring? Join the party!  And be sure to leave a comment below for a chance to win a book -- we'll choose a few readers at random from among the comments!

In Praise of Librarians

Anne here, and today I'm talking about my love of libraries and librarians. So many old-fashioned movies and novels used to portray librarians as wispy, dowdy repressed creatures. That or grumpy people who go about shushing people endlessly. Such silly clichés. I always preferred the ones where the librarian revealed themselves to have brains and pizzaz and spines of steel. To me librarians have always been slightly magical.

Books and reading open our minds to a variety of new worlds, whether fiction, fantasy or fact. I often say that libraries kept me 'fed' when I was a child. My parents owned plenty of books, but because we moved so often, they often remained in boxes and were inaccessible to me. Though I was an outdoors active kid during the day, in the evenings I was a total book worm. I pretty much read everything I could get my hands on, and a huge part of that process was thanks to the librarians who worked in the various libraries in the many towns I lived in through my childhood.

Usually, when we moved to a new town — mostly smallish country towns — the first thing I did was walk or ride my bike all around town to learn what was there, and high on my list was the local public library. And in each of those the attitude of the librarians was what made the difference in whether it was a friendly space or not. I'm glad to say most of them were very friendly spaces.

I owe so much to librarians. Once they realized what a voracious reader I was, they often introduced me to new authors and a wider range of books. "Have you tried this?" was often the start of what I would now call a "glom" of this author or that.

When Minor Characters Come to Life . . .

Andrea here, juggling a multitude of pressing deadlines, and so invoking the Wenchly privilege of posting an oldie but goodie blog from the past. It seemed worthy of repeat, given all the controversy concerning the current Duke of Sussex. So without further ado . . .

I'm musing today on minor characters in a story, and how they can surprise you. Take, for example, my Wrexford & Sloane mystery, Murder at Kensington Palace. In doing research for the book, I had come across a paragraph or two that mentioned scientific soirees were occasionally held at Kensington Palace during the Regency because King George III’s sixth son (and ninth child), Prince Augustus Frederick, lived in one of the state apartments and was very interested in science.

Andrea here, juggling a multitude of pressing deadlines, and so invoking the Wenchly privilege of posting an oldie but goodie blog from the past. It seemed worthy of repeat, given all the controversy concerning the current Duke of Sussex. So without further ado . . .

I'm musing today on minor characters in a story, and how they can surprise you. Take, for example, my Wrexford & Sloane mystery, Murder at Kensington Palace. In doing research for the book, I had come across a paragraph or two that mentioned scientific soirees were occasionally held at Kensington Palace during the Regency because King George III’s sixth son (and ninth child), Prince Augustus Frederick, lived in one of the state apartments and was very interested in science.

AAW: Favorite Furnishings!

by Mary Jo

This Ask A Wench blog was inspired when we started talking about furniture in our private Word Wenches email loop, and we found out that we all had stories about favorite things!

Here is the question I asked: "Do you have a particular piece of furniture that you cherish? Tell us its story!"

And here are the replies:

From Pat Rice:

I HAD wonderful pieces that I cherished—the Victorian sofa my stepfather reupholstered in lovely wine and cream to match my Tudor-style dark oak living room; the dark oak dining table that was our very first piece of “bought” furniture, the one with scars in it from little hands pressing too hard with writing instruments while doing homework; the beautiful Bentwood rocker from my mother that I rocked my babies in… and the magnificent handmade mahogany Queen Anne bedroom suite I bought with my first big royalty check. ( the pic shows the table and the antique sideboard I picked up at a yard sale!)

They’re all gone now, left behind when we moved across the country to a modern cottage on the Pacific coast. These days, we live with thrift store bargains—because new, they probably cost more than all the above furniture did when we bought them. I no longer feel guilt at dumping a designer leather couch when we move to a house where it doesn’t fit. I can buy an even better one in a design that matches. Throw away furniture—it’s a Thing.

Nicola contributes a "Slightly macabre piece!"

 When I was a child my grandparents, who lived with us, bought an 18th century grandfather clock that stood in the hall, its loud tick filling the air and somehow giving a sense of reassurance and permanence. I loved that clock! I loved its painted face and the fact that it was much taller than I was, and that it had been made in the North of England and was so old.

Fast forward fifty years, and when we were clearing my parents’ house I really wanted to take that clock home to live with me. But there was a problem. It was too tall. Or our ceilings were too low. Whichever way you looked at it, it didn’t fit. We thought about taking several inches off the bottom of it, which wasn’t really feasible. We even thought about lowering a small part of the floor but that was even less practical. In the end I had to accept that it just wasn’t going to happen. My step-brother has it now and as he loves it too, that’s good enough for me.

 

Priory chapels and perpetual curates

Pat here: I believe I promised you last time to talk about my research into the Anglican Church. We all know the history about Henry the Head Chopper who wanted a divorce and the pope refused to give him one, so he created his own church. That’s not what I researched. Instead, I spent hours trying to figure out if my isolated manor might have a chapel or a vicar or what on earth they did for Sunday services.

I wasn’t researching because I just wanted my folks praying. They were nicely handling that by reading the English Book of Common Prayer on a Sunday morning—in the ancient great hall that was once a priory chapel, before Henry’s men tore it down. But under the Marriage Act of 1753, one cannot marry without a real church and real clergyman (unless you’re a Quaker or Jewish), and that’s a bit of a problem in a mystery series with a lot of romance.

Dogs in Art

Christina here. I’ve always been a dog lover so when I finally had some of my own, I wanted them immortalised in a painting. This was the result and I love it! Turns out I’m not the only dog owner with that idea though …

Last week I went to see an exhibition at the Wallace Collection in London which was all about dog portraits. It is the first ever exhibition to explore our wonderful relationship with dogs through art. Right up my street and I wasn’t disappointed! The first sign showed a quote which I totally agree with:-

“The Dog is the most faithful Animal in the World, and beloved by Men.” (Iconologia or Moral Emblems, by Caesar Ripa, English Translation 1709)

Georgette Heyer and These Old Shades

Anne here, and today I'm bringing you another Georgette Heyer blog featuring some snippets from The Novels of Georgette Heyer, an upcoming book by Jennifer Kloester, Heyer's biographer. They are, of course, published with Jen's permission. (We'll let you know when the book goes on sale.)

Today we are dipping into These Old Shades, which was my first ever Georgette Heyer. You've probably heard me tell this story, so forgive me if you have and skip this paragraph. I was 11 and my friend Merryn and I, both prolific readers, were fed up with having to stick to the books in the children's library. But the rules said you had to be over 12, so . . . 

It was a dare. Merryn dared me to borrow a book from the adult section. I said, "All right, I will! Which book should I get?" She said her mother liked Georgette Heyer, so I grabbed the first one I saw, which happened to be These Old Shades. It was a weird title and I had no idea what it would be like, but I didn't care. And to our amazement, the librarian didn't bat an eye!

So These Old Shades became my first Heyer, and I not only devoured it, it will always hold a special place in my heart. (Coincidentally it was Jen Kloester's first as well.) Since then, on many different Heyer sites, people often ask, "What was your first Heyer?" I think we remember our first because it ushered us into a whole new reading world, a world to which many of us became, and remain, addicted. 

So, on to Heyer and These Old Shades. Georgette was very close to her beloved father, who was friend and mentor as well as father. On 15 June 1925 George Heyer had a heart attack and died in front of his 22-year-old daughter. 

After that Georgette struggled to write for months. But she had a contract to fulfil, and eventually, she returned to a story she'd begun three years earlier as a kind of sequel to her first book, The Black Moth.

At the time (1923, long before her father's death and in a burst of enthusiasm for the book) she wrote this to her agent:

The sequel is naturally a much better book than the Moth itself, and is designed to catch the public’s taste. I have also tried to arrange it so that anyone who reads it need not first read the Moth. It deals with my priceless villain, and ends awfully happily. Tracy becomes quite a decent person, and marries a girl about half his age! I’ve packed it full of incident and adventure, and have made my heroine masquerade as a boy for the first few chapters. This, I find, always attracts people! 
Georgette Heyer to L.P. Moore, letter, 23 January 1923. 

Interesting, isn't it, how clear-headed she was — and at such a young age — about what readers would respond to. And how determined she was to "catch the public's taste."

Exploring the Chelsea Physic Garden

Andrea here, Where I live in New England, the weather has been unseasonably chilly, so the unfurling of Spring hasn’t yet burst into full bloom. But the flickers of nascent green and tantalizing hints of color from early flowers in the local gardens give promise that my daily walks will soon be alive with the sights and scents of the natural world cycling into its peak season.
 
Now, I’m not gardener. I’m too impatient to wait for several years for tiny plants mature into the original vision for the space. And weeding, mulching, deadheading feels like drudgery . . . I am much happier appreciating the work of others!
 
Which is to say, I very much enjoy gardens for the pure sensory pleasure of seeing the colors and textures, and savoring the scents and sounds of the bees busy at work pollinating. But I also find that I have a special appreciation for “practical” gardens, like herb gardens. And my very favorite are physic gardens, which are designed for medicinal purposes.
 
So in the spirit of celebrating the start here in the Northern hemisphere of gardens come to life, I thought I'd give a quick look at the history of Chelsea Physic Garden, one of Britain’s oldest gardens devoted to medicinal plants.