Word Wenches

Canada Day Special!

As the Canada Wench -- you can picture me with a few strategically placed maple leaves if you want, but I wouldn't recommend it! -- I want to wish everyone a very happy national celebration of choice, especially in North America where this long weekend serves both.

As Mary Jo said, July 1st is Canada Day, so it would be great to hear from any and all Canadians reading here. Leave a comment! As an incentive, I'll give away a signed copy of an Advance Reading Copy of my only (thus far) Canadian set book, THE ROGUE'S RETURN. Yes, I know it's out, but an ARC is a very limited edition, so it's special.

The rules? I'll randomly pick from those Canadian residents who leave a Happy Canada Day comment between the start of July Ist as it's recorded on the blog message and three pm, July 1st, same system. We want to be sending those good wishes while Canada Day is still rolling along, and this is the fairest system I could come up with. Canada has an extra hour and a half out there in the east, so the Maritimers get some extra time to enter.

One entry only per person. May the best Canadian win.

Bon chance!

Jo :)

That Magic Moment

From Mary Jo

One of our regular Wenchlings asked me when I knew I was meant to be a writer and suggested that it was a question worth blogging.  I agree that the question is an intriguing one, but I’ll bet that others have a much more interesting answer than I do.

The bald fact is that I knew I was a writer when I was offered a contract for my first book.  Boringly mundane, no?  Yet it’s the truth.  I was always a daydreamer, spinning stories in my head when sitting bored in classes.  (And I was bored a lot.)  I even thought that being a writer would be Totally Cool, but it never occurred to me that I could ever occupy one of those pedestals in the sky where writers live.  (Feel free to laugh. <g>) 

But with my horrid handwriting and mildly dyslexic typing, becoming a writer never seemed even remotely possible.  I just couldn’t get the words down.  Writing was in the vague dream category, along with being tall, thin, or fashionably dressed. 

All that changed when I got my first computer to do copywriting and invoicing for my graphic design business.  (Ah, my darling Leading Edge!  We remember our first computers much as Regency fans remember their first Georgette Heyer.)  Once I learned the basics of word processing, it occurred to me that I’d always wanted to write a book, so let’s give it a try. 

I charged into that first book with no expectations at all—I just wanted to see what I could do.  I marked the floppy disk (5 ¼” yet!) with RR for Regency Romance, since I wasn’t ready to admit what I was doing even to myself.

One scene flowed into another, the story seemed to be working, I joined RWA, got the name of an agent from the friend of a friend, the agent marked up my 88 pages and sent them back with suggestions, and a few weeks later, I was offered a contract.

Yes, Virginia, that is the moment that I knew I was a writer.  Having no expectations made the process easy in a lot of ways.  I didn’t fear rejection since I didn’t expect acceptance. 

Of course, selling my first book changed everything.  I went from no expectations to behaving like a crazed lemming determined to learn everything I could about writing and publishing.  I also developed my first and most powerful writing goal: to support myself as a writer. It took a few years, but I made it. 

I think the process is much, much harder for someone who early develops a passionate desire to be a writer.  Though actually, the problem is not so much writing, which can be a great creative high, but getting published, which is hard.  Usually very hard indeed. 

So maybe the real answer to the original question is that one knows one is a writer when one begins to write.  I have a little Post-It note on my monitor that says, “Writers write.”  Sometimes, when publishing is making me nuts, I need to remind myself of that.  I became a writer on the Saturday I sat down and started The Diabolical Baron.  I realized that I was a writer on the day someone offered actual money for my daydreams.

You are a writer when you are sitting down and producing words.  (Not long ago, I heard a young and successful writer say that one can be a writer in one’s mind.  Sorry, I don’t agree.  That’s daydreaming.  Real writing is not only imagination, it’s making the serious effort of getting words down in a form that can communicate to others even if you never show your work to anyone.) 

A person may or may not become published—that’s in the hands of others, out of the writer’s control.  There are some writers who write only for their own creative satisfaction, and perhaps they are the happiest of us all.  There is brilliant writing that may never be published because it simply doesn’t fit into a publisher’s paradigm.

But if you’re writing, you’re a writer.  Own that identity, and be proud.  You’re doing what many only dream of. 

On a lighter note: Happy Birthday, Canada!  July 1st is the official birthday of Canada, and lucky the United States is to be occupying the same continental land mass.  A bit of history if you’re interested: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Canada_Day

Mary Jo, who grew up only forty miles from the Canadian border, and never misses a chance to visit. 

Author Interview - Mary Jo Putney

                                                 And now it's time for...

      Shameless Promotional Spotlight!  Er... The Word Wenches Guest Author Interview!

                                      Our first guest is Mary Jo Putney!

THE MARRIAGE SPELL

Ballantine Books  ISBN 0345449185 June, 2006

"Putney skillfully, cleverly, and beautifully combines the paranormal with the romantic...pure enchantment."    -- Romantic Times Book Reviews, 4 1/2 stars

   

Set in an alternative Regency world where magic is known but considered dreadfully vulgar by the upper classes, THE MARRIAGE SPELL is a marriage of convenience story with magic. The heroine, Abby Barton, is an acknowledged wizard and healer while the hero, Jack Langdon, wants nothing to do with that sort of thing. But necessity makes strange bedfellows—literally so in a romance!

WW: Mary Jo, THE MARRIAGE SPELL is getting wonderful, well-deserved praise. It's powerful storytelling with surprising plot twists, and at its heart is an extraordinary romance. Jack is tough yet kind, and Abby determined but forgiving. What do you personally love about these characters, and their story?

MJP: I liked that they were both practical, down to earth people, not glamorous or larger than life. Jack is a Regency version of a big friendly jock, good natured and a little shy around dazzling society ladies.  Abby thinks of herself a big strapping wench, a good healer but not the sort of woman that makes a man stare enraptured across a crowded room. They're both kind and reasonable--and those qualities are a foundation for building a deep, nurturing love. 

WW: What inspired you to bring a new depth of magic and paranormal to your latest books?

MJP: I've always loved reading science fiction and fantasy, and I love writing magic. It's just--so cool! When I started to feel that I was running out of ideas for straight historicals, it made sense to add magical elements.  As it happened, I began doing that just as paranormal romance was starting to take off.

WW: What first interested you in writing? How has your interest changed?

MJP: I love telling stories. I stuck to daydreaming until I got a computer and found that when you fix your typos, they stay fixed. <g> Then I went commercial.

I'd always liked stories with romantic elements--and must definitely a happy ending!--so writing romance was a natural. I also really liked history, so that came naturally as well.  I'm still working with those elements, though over time I've delved more deeply into the characters' motivations. As for torturing my characters--I've done that from the beginning. <g> 

WW: What do you love about being a writer, and what do you find more challenging?

MJP: I love working at home and setting my schedule and not having to get dressed up or deal with office politics.  I like having the cats around, and being able to run out and exercise when I'm in the mood. But writing books is seriously hard work. The hardest part is just sitting down and getting the words down. It doesn't get easier.

WW: Is there a trend you hope to see in romance fiction?

MJP: I like the diversity of stories we're seeing these days. I hope it continues.

WW: Can you tell us something about your next book?

MJP: I'm working on the third Guardian novel, which will come out from Del Rey in summer 2007. The heroine is Jean Macrae, who was a secondary character in A Kiss of Fate and Stolen Magic. She always felt that she'd never marry a Guardian, and she's right. She finds a dark and dangerous man with a very different past and magical gifts of his own. He is a man with a mission, and she has been drifting without much purpose for years.  His mission, and he himself, captivate her. And they're off!

WW: Thanks, Mary Jo, and best of luck!

We’ve Got Weather

from Susan/Sarah...

Well, I was going to blog a bit about the garden and the yard, since it’s the time of year when everything is looking pretty good. Even mine, and I don’t go overboard with the gardening thing, since allergies have something to say about that. Ahem.

Here’s some of the flowers in containers on my deck, last week.

And then it started to rain.

And rain. And rain.

We’re in Maryland, in an area where it hardly ever floods. Until this week. The rains came from nowhere...well, I’m sure they came from somewhere but I wasn’t paying any attention, having lots of work to do, so I was busy tap-tapping away on my keyboard, when I looked up...and noticed it was raining pretty hard. Sheets of it. Later, when lightning cracked and thunder started boom-shaka-lakking, I leaped out of my chair and ran downstairs. The dog scurried under the nearest sofa, and I stood at the door watching the deluge in the street and the yard, and while lightning flashed and thunder rolled like bowling balls, I thought about where the husband and sons were in relation to cars, roads, and various routes home. And I resisted the urge to regress, er, resort, to a time-tested technique that worked for me when I was a kid in Upstate New York: I would put on rubber-soled sneakers and wind as many rubber bands in my hair as possible (great look), then settle down on the window seat to watch the storm. Taking out all those rubber bands later was a pain, especially extracting them from curly hair, but it was worth it: I was safe, so the method clearly worked.

This week it wasn’t just one storm that sent me bolting from my chair, it was one storm after another for four days or so, big, lusty, crashing, violent deluge storms, day and night, several inches of rain a day. Locally and throughout the area, there was flooding, and several routes closed down. We’re just outside of D.C., which was a mess. A friend’s son parked his new car outside a museum, and came out a few hours later to find it sloshing up to its side mirrors in water. Many people had losses and were evacuated, and for many this has been a very, very serious situation. I appreciate that, and I feel for them. There’s a helpless feeling when Nature takes over, yanks life out of your control, and all you can do is sit and watch.

We are fortunate to be perched on the highest point in our county. Roads were closed, but we were okay, and the basement stayed dry. We watched our yard turn into a water theme park, complete with mud slide, waterfall, wave pool, a lake, a crescent-shaped river, and a log flume (for squirrels). I think we had a tunnel of love flowing for the rabbits under the deck.

The dog, a fearless little Westie who cowers at nothing (except the vacuum cleaner, but anything that devours and growls like that is worth avoiding), kept running out on the deck to bark at the thunder. But being low to the ground, she won’t go out willingly in wet grass. This creates logistical problems....so more than once I tugged her outside on a leash in drenching rain.

When I wasn’t watching the back hill dissolve into rivulets and craters, or dragging the dog outside in the downpour, or worrying about the teenage son with the car, a job to go to, friends to visit, and a sense of immortality undaunted by oh, a little rain, I did get some work done.

I know it was a terrible series of storms for many, and our problems were few in the scope of things around here. We lost electricity and internet more than once, but I had no problem getting to work (just down the hall, turn right), and I enjoyed the steady thrumming of rain on the roof. There’s something very peaceful about sitting down with notebook and pens (had to turn that computer off!) to do some writing, and it’s equally nice to sit down with a wonderful story and do some reading. I often listen to music when I read or write, but not this week. Rain is its own music.

I was reminded how good it is to do without the rush-rush of an electronic lifestyle, to go without electricity, internet, easily accessed computer files, and just to sit quietly and listen to my own thoughts, without the extra buzziness that we so often allow into our days. So for me, those storms were a little gift of simplicity in very wet packaging. I welcome storms, and snowstorms too, for that quietude. But I always put on my Keds just in case.

~Susan

p.s. it's sunny today!  (with thunderstorms called for this afternoon....)

A lake forming in our back yard.

Not a Highland waterfall: the back hill                                                         

Responding re Gothics

I composed a post which then disappeared in a flash. Very strange.

Continuing to respond to posts as a main post. Let me know what you all think.

Tal, glad my post hit the spot for you, and thank you for the follow up. I had most of that, I think from the same site, but yes, Husband Hunters!!! doesn't seem to be easily available anywhere.

Pat said: used to devour 20th century gothics but I'll have to admit I never got into the older versions where Snidely Dolash tied the innocent maiden to the camel or horse or railroad tracks. I have always been a fan of women who kicked the villains where they hurt, and these never did.

Are you certain the author of RAVENSWORTH was a man? So many authors wrote under pseudonyms back then. And I have to wonder if Rosalvo's author wasn't really named Rose and enjoyed being the hero as well as the heroine.

I rapidly tired of the gothics in the '80s, when for a while there was nothing else but there's something fresh and over the top about the old ones.

I'm pretty sure that the author, George Brewer, was male, because there are articles about him. He seems to have also written in the style of Fielding and Smollett.

As for heroines, I prefer your version to kick-ass. Not good to kick people from behind, you know.

The heroines in these book do tend to faint rather than fight, but then the heroes are inclined to sigh and burst into tears, so it's pretty equal.

Jo :)

The Ghastly Ghoul of Castle Cruel

No, that isn't a realy gothic novel of the early 19th century. It's the one Lord Darius Debenham and Lady Mara St Bride work on in TO RESCUE A ROGUE (out in September) under the name Dara St. Mara.

It all started when Mara didn't want to cut short their time together after a visit to Dubourg's Cork Exhibit ("Corks?" "It's supposed to be fascinating.") so she asks that they stop by the lending library so she can pick up a copy of Tales of Fancy that is waiting for her. And of course, she has to see what else is available. So I had to find some titles of other novels of the time, which is always fun because they're so way over the top. Dare wants her to get BAROZZI, OR THE VENITIAN SORCERESS, but Mara can't resist HUSBAND HUNTERS!!! because of the three exclamation points.

I haven't found a copy of HUSBAND HUNTERS!!! yet, but I have a copy of BAROZZI, thanks to Valancourt Books or Chicago.

It was one of those bits of serendipity that bless a writer's life. Early this year I received this e-mail:
I operate a small press called Valancourt Books (http://www.valancourtbooks.com) which reprints rare Gothic novels from the late 18th and early 19th centuries. One of the novels we're working on right now is The Demon of Sicily, which given its rarity, I was frankly amazed to see mentioned in your An Arranged Marriage. Are you a fan of these old Gothic novels? If so, I wonder if you'd ever like to contribute a short preface or something to one of our titles?

Now AN ARRANGED MARRIAGE, you'll remember, is my first novel, the one I started back in 1977. I suspect that THE DEMON OF SICILY came into it is the rewrites in the late '80s, but it was still a while, so I couldn't say why I'd chosen that one. I wonder if it is the the Carlton University collection in Ottawa. I could have simply browsed the catalogue for a title because I didn't read the book.

I confessed as much to the publisher, but said yes, I would be interested in writing a preface, which I'm working on, because these novels were such a part of the early 19th century. Not everyone was reading Jane Austen and Sir Walter Scott, but nearly every young woman would have read one or more gothics.

Of course I went to look at his catalogue. Alas, he doesn't have HUSBAND HUNTERS!!!, which I really want to read, but there was BAROZZI. He also sent me THE WITCH OF RAVENSWORTH, but that's by a man so I'm feeling negatively disposed.

I quoted a bit from BAROZZI in a tag-end comment to the line about sentences from books were reading now. It's a rip-roaring yarn. From the modern back-copy. "The unfortunate Rosalina St. Almo (see, if I'd known that Dare would have said something about the connection between St. Bride and St. Almo) is torn from her father's arms by vicious bandits who slaughter her father before her eyes. (Page one, line one. No mucking about with slow openings here.) Fortunately she is rescued from the bandits by young Rosalva di Barozzi, who takes her to his father's palace in Venice. But more terror awaits her when a hideous sorceress at a masked ball prophesies her doom!"

I was a bit thrown by Rosalva as a hero's name, but he's dashing. It's a bit odd to have hero and heroine names so similar, too.

Check out Valancourt Books for other fun titles. They're nicely bound editions, too, and not very expensive and it seems to be a labor of love for the publisher to make these books available again.

I've mentioned the gothic novels of the time in many books. Most were put out by the Minerva Press, which was a flourishing business. My novella FORBIDDEN AFFECTIONS is entirely wrapped around a gothic novel of that title because the heroine finds herself sleeping in a recreation of the heroine's ghastly bedchamber of the book. Bound to excite a 16-year-old's curiosity. And of course she has to check whether the fireplace really does conceal a secret door....

Have a happy Wednesday,

Jo :)

Celebration Time

I’m starting a new book and having way more fun than should be allowed, so I thought I’d set off a few firecrackers early.  I adore the 4th of July and it’s never too early to celebrate! 

                                                                                                                               

I’m throwing in that comment to make up for the other 360 days a year when I whine and bellyache and make like writing is such a mindbending, backbreaking profession.  Let’s face it, we’re being paid to make up lies for a living.  How much better can it get than that?  On top of lying for a living, we can throw ex-spouses, back-stabbing friends, and old bosses into the book and blow them up and torture them if we like.  Writing is what happens when you spend too much time daydreaming!

    And since today is an unusually gorgeous day, I can take my pen and paper out to the patio or courtyard and scribble and rock while I work, listening to the birds cheap, watching the chipmunks scamper… until the neighbor turns on his leaf blower anyway.

    I know the heat and humidity will return tomorrow and my editor will call and ask just what I was thinking when I made the heroine smack the hero in front of an audience and my agent will call and tell me my new proposal is unmarketable, but in the meantime, Happy Fourth, Happy Birthday Whoever, Happy Life Everyone!

               And for the gardeners among you, here’s my ash tree… (Now, if only I could make these images stay where I put them instead of lining up like little soldiers...)   

How I Discovered 1675 in 1971

From Susan/Miranda:

One of the questions that people love to ask writers (and most writers hate to answer) is “Where do you get your ideas?” While some of us prefer the snappy smart-ass reply – “Why, I get mine at the Idea Store!” –– the truth is often so murky and roundabout that it's almost impossible to give. But sometimes the answer is so clear and precise that it could come with a date stamp.

Such is the case with my next book, DUCHESS, to be released early in August. My first foray into fictionalized biography, DUCHESS is the story of Sarah Churchill, first Duchess of Marlborough. Recently I received an email from my publicist at NAL, requesting that I answer several background questions about the book to help her generate publicity about it. The first question was, of course, a variation of the old favorite: When did you first become interested in Sarah Churchill?

And I knew at once: 1971. The very first BBC series shown in America as part of PBS’s Masterpiece Theatre was a multi-part saga set in 17th century England called “The First Churchills”, staring Susan Hampshire and John Neville. I was in high school, and though I was already branded a history nerd, I’d never heard of any Churchill beyond Sir Winston, and all I knew of King Charles II and his bawdy Restoration court had come via a well-thumbed copy of “Forever Amber.” But with millions of other viewers, I was instantly drawn into the lives of the beautiful, ambitious Sarah and her dashing soldier John as they contrived to rise from penniless beginnings to the very highest places in the English court and army –– the most powerful and wealthiest couple of their time. For the majority of “First Churchills” fans, the series was a fascinating way to pass Sunday night. For me, it was the germ of a novel I wouldn’t realize I’d write for another thirty-four years.

I began to think of other movies or television shows that helped shape my impressions of the past that still influence me today. I don’t mean actual research, but more the romantic sweep of history that sank so deeply into my impressionable teen-aged bones that it remains with me now.

First and foremost, of course, would be Franco Zefferelli’s 1968 version of “Romeo and Juliet.” The overture alone is enough to reduce a whole generation of long-grown women to shuddering sighs (and apparently remains popular enough that the DVD is #351 on Amazon, with nearly two hundred comments!) In those days of limited movie distribution, my friends and I skipped school and took the bus into Manhattan to the Paris movie theatre on 57th Street, the one place where it seemed always to be playing (and why, I ask you, do I still remember THAT?) and where we’d weep in the dark and savor the gorgeously romantic past of Zefferelli’s Renaissance. Leonard Whiting in dark blue velvet wasn’t so bad, either.

Victorian England had already hooked its marcasite claws into me through Charles Dickens and Thomas Hardy, and “Far From the Madding Crowd” in 1967 carried me off to Wessex with Julie Christie and her perfect Mod-girl straight bangs and sulky mouth. As Bathsheba Everdene, she was wooed by three heroes –– Alan Bates, Terrence Stamp, and Peter Finch –– which, when you’re struggling to achieve the notice of churlish high school boys, struck me as glorious excess. I’ve never forgotten the wide, melancholy vistas of Hardy-country, Terrence Stamp’s flopping black hair and beautiful army uniform, and Julie’s skirts billowing in the wind.

The 1970 version of D.H. Lawrence’s “Women in Love” was an eye-opener of another kind. Alan Bates again, plus Oliver Reed. Yes, Glenda Jackson won the Oscar, but all I remember was those two men eating figs in a lascivious way that simultaneously embarrassed and fascinated my adolescent self. This wasn’t “Romeo and Juliet” love; this was something else entirely from health class filmstrips, something dark and sensuous and very, very grown-up. Terence Stamp, Oliver Reed, Alan Bates –– are they the reasons that so many of the heroes I’ve written have been Englishmen with dark hair and blue eyes?

There were many more period movies that left their mark on me –– Tom Jones, Dr. Zhivago, Lawrence of Arabia, Barry Lyndon –– movies that remain much more vivid in my memory than any of their newer counterparts can ever be. I don’t seem to have the patience for movies now. I see too many historical inaccuracies, inconsistencies in characters, weaknesses in plot development, all the curse of habitual self-editing. Sadly, that innocence of blissful ignorance can’t be regained, any more than I could squeeze into a pair of Landlubber or Britannia jeans from the same vintage.

I don’t buy the DVD’s of my old favorites, either. Just as it’s better not to discover that the old boyfriend is now bald and belting his Dockers south of the equator, I’d rather leave Juliet and Bathsheba in the hazy, flattering glow of the their past, and mine.

And, like Sarah Churchill, I never know how or when they’ll rise up from my memory and into my writing.

Now it’s your turn: what movies influence you back in what was once called “the formative years”? When you write or read, who do you unconsciously cast as your characters? Is Clark Gable your phantom bad-boy, or Brad Pitt? Time to 'fess up!

PETALS winner!

From Mary Jo

And the winner of the free signed copy of Petals in the Storm is [email protected]! 

Congratulations, Kathy!  Once I have your address, I'll mail the copy off.  I hope you enjoy it!

Mary Jo

Request for Info

From Sherrie:

Hi, Wenchlings!  I'm doing some troubleshooting behind the scenes for those of you having problems making the "Remember my info" thing work when you type a comment, and also being unable to make hotlinks work.  If anyone is having either problem, please let me know.

In order to pursue this further, I need to know which browsers you are using, and if you have this problem at other websites and blogs, and if so, are they TypePad sites.  Thanks!

Sherrie Holmes    http://www.holmesedit.com

Speaking of gardens...

I love my garden.

It's a suburban quarter acre, which is laughable, I know. But I fixed it up to look like a jungle. I can't help it. Everything I decorate winds up...cluttered.

I even got statues and broken heads of statues for odd corners (all my corners are odd) so the place looks like an abandoned mansion's grounds. And I hung heads on my wall, so I could pretend it was the Tower of London in the old days.

I also have a bamboo grove! When out of sorts with a neighbor years ago, I asked the Town Board what I could put as a barrier betwixt us. And the lady at the reception desk asked what I wanted to put up...

A steel curtain," says I.

She giggled.

And then,

almost like the man giving the young Dustin Hoffman advice, she whispered --

"I have one word for you: Bamboo."

I put in bamboo. And now I have a grove.

And what does bamboo need, apart from pandas? (which are hard to get) but a little pond. And what does a pond need? Fishies. And what do fishies need?

Aeration - in the form of a little waterfall.

I can't get any writing done near the sound of running water. That's why I hang out there when the book is stalling. I don't so much meditate as phase out.

I grow flowers too, and herbs and slugs, snails and little bitey things that run up my legs and leave huge welts when I go out to fix the water pump in the pond. Still, I love my garden.

In spring, I plant like a woman possessed.

By August, I pretty much leave the garden to the bugs until autumn. Then I break out the bales of straw and giant pumpkins and pots of chrs... crysthanthe.. mums.

Then the fishies hiberate, and so do I.

When it snows, I put up bird feeders and watch them and worry, because of the Hawks. I hate setting up a hot and cold buffet for the birds. Seed for the Cardinals, Doves and Jays. Cardinals, Doves and ...Jays for the Hawks.

::sigh::

Still, for all the work, a garden is a great all-season way to escape working!

Jo Wows Them in Seattle!

From Sherrie:

Well, it wasn't actually in Seattle ... it was in Bellevue, just outside Seattle.  Close enough.

Jo is a speaker and workshop presenter this weekend at the "Writers Weekend" conference.  I'll let her give the details when she gets back, but since this is in my neck of the woods, I have several local friends who attended.  Every one of them came back with raves about Jo.  I wish I could have gone.  Alas, the editorial side of my life is keeping me chained to the computer. 

I asked my friends to report back to me on the conference, and a number of them did.  Interspersed in their comments were praises for Jo.  The best one:   "JB gave the closing speech tonight and of course she was wonderful.  You just can't help but love her."  I have to agree.

Here's an exclusivie picture of Jo at the conference wowing her audience with her knowledge and charm.

Sherrie Holmes, http://www.HolmesEdit.com

Matters Dickensian

      From Loretta:
      Susan/Sarah’s recent post asking about current reading forced me to fess up that I’m reading BLEAK HOUSE again.  Even though I’ve read it so many times that when watching the recent BBC version, I could tell at least half the time what lines came from the book (most of them, surprisingly) and whether or not the character uttering them was the one who’d said them in the book.  I’m reading it even though I am not now or ever will be in danger of running out of TBR books.  While my leisure reading time shrinks, the pile grows ever higher.
      But I need Dickens.  He reminds me why I wanted to be a writer.  He reminds me how I came to understand how to tell a story.  Most of what I know about writing fiction I learned from him and his fellow Victorian novelists.  He reminds me, above all, of what I aspire to.
      I write this knowing that Charles Dickens is not to everyone’s tastes.  In fact, so far as I can ascertain, he is hardly to anybody’s tastes these days.  When I was in college, he was out of fashion.  The English faculty ignored him, mostly.  They did not seem enthusiastic about teaching him, though they were fine with Thomas Hardy, who is way too depressed for me.  Only one professor shared my joy in the opening scene of BLEAK HOUSE.  This I still consider the best opening scene of any book ever, notwithstanding PRIDE AND PREJUDICE’s brilliant “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.”  That’s a work-of-genius opener, but Dickens builds a world in a few pages, and the language always knocks me out.
      By the time I encountered that college professor I had read BLEAK HOUSE two or three times.  This was thanks to one friend.  It was he who taught me to appreciate Dickens--via DAVID COPPERFIELD--when I was an adolescent know-it-all who believed that only modern music, books, and art counted.  Having been force-fed A TALE OF TWO CITIES and GREAT EXPECTATIONS by high school teachers who seemed to view Dickens as an unpleasant duty at best, I was not about to read him for fun.  But my friend was about ten years older and had taught himself six or seven languages as part of his process of reading, systematically, the entire body of the World’s Great Literature, each book in the language in which it was written.  His apartment was decorated in the Turkish style, rather like some of the interiors of Egyptian houses I described in MR. IMPOSSIBLE.  As an adolescent, I was in awe of him.  Now, looking back, I realize that he was a Dickensian character.
      I did learn about characterization from Dickens.  I don’t do it as he does.  I haven’t an imagination half so fertile, nor an extensive acquaintance with Characters with a capital C (the friend described above is one of the few I can recollect).  I don’t and can’t walk restlessly, for hours and hours, the streets of 19th century London.  But he taught me to think about speech patterns and “hear” the character’s voice.  He taught me ways of setting a scene.  Above all, he taught me to appreciate the English language, its vast vocabulary (considerably vaster now than in the 19th century), its elasticity--in short, its abundance.
      This is what tends to be lost when a Dickens work is brought to the screen, large or small.  His plots, pared down, are Victorian melodramas.  The distinctive characters are either toned down or exaggerated so that they become cartoons.  Oh, and the women, the good women of the books, can be sick-making to the modern mind--so I must admit that anything a screenwriter or director does to them is probably for the better.  As to mood--even the best directors can’t do much more than dark and gloomy with a bit of light here and there.  They can’t capture the ever-changing sunlight and shadows of the books.  Above all, they can’t translate to the screen the narrative voice--the wit, the screwball comedy, the cynicism and sarcasm, the sorrow, the sense of loss, the sense of triumph.  The recent BBC production was a marvel, beautifully done.  I say this as one who’s hated every screen version of every Dickens story.  But as beautifully written, acted, and directed as it is, it is a screen work, another species.  Something completely distinct from the book by the same name.  (Please see Mary Jo Putney’s blog on making books into movies for more on this subject).
      For me, the joy of Dickens is the words, the magical words.  I never grow tired of them.  That’s why I’m reading BLEAK HOUSE for the umpty-bazillionth time.  And still learning.
      

And we have a winner!

From Mary Jo:

We have a winner in our one month anniversary contest!  Winners are chosen at random from the newsletter list.  (Getting our newsletter will not be a burden--we aren't even close to sending out the first one. <g>)

And the winner is:  Robin C. Greene!  Congratulations, Robin.  If you will send me your mailing address at [email protected], I'll sign the book and pop it in the mail to you.

And--a special bonus contest!  I just received my author's copies for the reissue of Petals in the Storm, one of my classic Fallen Angels series.  Since I have books in hand, I'll send a free, signed copy to the winner of our second contest.  Anyone who has signed up for our newsletter list by 12:00 p.m. (noon) EDT on Sunday will be eligible for our next drawing. 

Free books--what reader could ask for more?

Mary Jo

In Praise of Porches

From Mary Jo:

One of the signature features of newish American homes is the deck—a broad sweep of wood on which one can slap mosquitoes, dodge wasps, burn slabs of animal flesh over a grill, and wreck one’s skin.  From which description you may correctly deduce that I’m not a big fan of decks.  <g>

When I moved into this house 13 years ago, it was in possession of a small deck that was a very nice staging area for my pots and pots of flowers.  I am by no means the gardener that Jo and Pat are, but I grew up on a farm and I take deep, rather mindless pleasure in watering my flowers and pinching off the dead blossoms and generally maintaining at least a minimal connection with nature. 

But in twelve years, I never, ever, actually sat on that deck.  Being right by trees, it had way too many bugs, and since I’m a pasty Anglo-Saxon who hates sitting in the sun, it was too hot for most of the summer.  (I have now reached the age where all that youthful sun-avoidance is paying off.  Who knew that not playing the “my tan is darker than your tan” game would have such benefits? <g>)

Since the original deck was in the process of slowly falling to pieces, I spent years trying to decide what to do about it.  A screened porch would be lovely—I adore sitting on a friend’s screened porch and admiring the squirrels and relaxing without bugs or sunburns.  But a screened porch would eliminate my summer flowers and winter birdfeeders. 

Last summer, I finally figured out how to improve and upgrade my connection to the great outdoors: make it bigger.  Through pure luck, I found a fabulous remodeler who was looking for a smallish project to fill in some time, and he built me a small but beautiful screened porch with a narrow open deck extension just big enough for my flowers and birdfeeder.  Plus, he installed a window in the dining room so I could see my birds and flowers.   (What’s the point of flowers if you can’t see them???)

I adore my screened porch.  I bought some ultra comfortable chairs and added good lighting and whenever feasible, I like to sit out there with my Dana (the slightly more sophisticated sibling of Susan Miranda’s Alphasmart) and write.  Or maybe read research books after finishing the newspaper.  Without much editing capacity, the Dana is great for generating first draft material because it’s a simple beast that offers no distractions.  (E-mail is definitely the spawn of Satan in terms of distractions!) 

The ideal is what the SO calls “Goldilocks weather”—not too hot, not too cold, but juuuuuust right.  Naturally the weather doesn’t always cooperate, but with fleece throws stored in a porch cabinet and a ceiling fan, I can expand the acceptable temperature range quite a bit.

But my lovely porch is by no means free of distractions.  My favorite are the rare hummingbirds who buzz by like hyperkinetic little green helicopters.  Very fond they are of my red and purple flowers.   Once I heard a slight sound and looked up to see a tiny goldfinch perched sideways on the screen about 18” above my head, its feathers lemon bright.  Most of the other birds are what they call “common birds”—robins, sparrows, maybe a cardinal or nuthatch—but that’s okay, I’m pretty common, too, and I love watching them darting and chattering in the white pines that almost touch the porch. 

The sliding door to the living room has to be kept open six inches no matter what the heat so the cats can come and go.  Grady likes to sprawl on the table top, master of all he surveys.  Lacey slinks out like a furry serpent, her green eyes darting in all directions as she looks for threats.  They both go into a kind of holy trance when they see chipmunks, which the cats probably define as “lunch.”  <g>  They aren’t as interested in the squirrels, who must look too much like a fair fight. 

Interestingly, since I acquired my screened porch last summer, I find that many, many people really love screened porches, but most of the time, they don’t have one.  They have decks. <g>  A friend said she’d love a screened porch, but screening in part of her deck wouldn’t look good, so she’ll stick with her deck, which she never uses.  Me, I'll go for comfort every time.

The writing life has its downsides, as all jobs do.  Cash flow can be grim, one works in a business that defines the term “thin ice,” and one spends most of one’s time either writing, thinking about writing, or feeling guilty about not writing.  <g>  But there are some really major pluses, too.  And one of them is being able to work on one’s porch. 

Mary Jo, who actually wrote this inside on her desktop because it’s HOT out there.

What Are You Reading

From Susan, of the Sarah persuasion....

Happy Anniversary to the Word Wenches, one month old today!                                                                                                                         

And it's Thursday already, and my turn again -- what to blog??!!

My amazing sister Wenches have posted fabulous keeper essays on writing, research, and other assorted good stuff. I've been thinking of possible topics. Hmm....

I could write about how to design yummy heroes from a few handy writerly ingredients...or list some books that I think every writer’s research library should have...or blog a bit more about experiential research (not 18th c. farms, or anything about corsets, fires, pigs or randy five-legged rams, because Susan/Miranda and Loretta are the CHAMPEENS of living history, imho!)....

Or maybe I could blog about adventures in field research, like tramping out into a meadow to fly hawks, or catching arrows shot by an eighth-degree black belt and former Marine...or maybe I could tell you about the time I set out to research Celtic harping, and ended up with a world-famous Celtic harper stranded overnight at my house, playing her gorgeous Irish harp in my kitchen (and later scrubbing her fussy two-year-old in the tub, long story)....

Ah but today is not about me, my friends, for this is the one-month birthday of Word Wenches!

And all the Wenches, and visitors, have been working very hard lately to make this a great blog.

So in honor of the occasion, I think we deserve a wee break from all the theorizin’ and expostulatin’ and wisdom-ness. I'm thinking we could play a little game that me and the other Wenches (yeah that's not grammatical but we're on a break here) were thinking of springing on you all from time to time.

This is called "Quick! What Are You Reading Now?"

Here’s how it goes:

Pick up a fiction book you’ve been reading most recently (if you have more than one book in play, like a true addict, choose the last one you had in your hands).

Now find...um...page 70! Then find the first sentence of the third paragraph (if there’s less than that, try the second paragraph).

Then type that sentence into the Comments area and post it for us (please let us know the title and author, since all writers, living or gone, should get credit)!

There are endless variations to this game, so let’s give it a whirl (hey if you feel like cheatin' a little, it's in the privacy of your own 'puter, and our game rules are very elastic <g>).

I’ll get us started...

Currently I'm on pg. 70 of Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier  (I often re-read my keeper classics, especially when madly overworked, as lately):

"We should grow old here together, we should sit like this to our tea as old people, Maxim and I, with other dogs, the successors of these, and the library would wear the same ancient musty smell that it did now."

Okay –- now it’s your turn!

~Susan/Sarah 

                                                                           

Woman Reading, by Lord Frederic Leighton

Garden picture

Belatedly, here's a picture from my garden, of the old style rose. It's probably 20 plus feet long.





I'm off tomorrow for the Writers' Weekend in Seattle. If anyone's in the area, there's a public event at a library in Bellevue.
http://www.kcls.org/programs/programs.cfm

I don't know if it's possible to still get into the conference.
http://www.writersweekend.com/

I'll be back later Sunday to see what wenching has occurred.

Jo :)

RSS Feed & Anniversary Prize!

More cool administrative announcements!  We work around the clock to bring you love, joy, and RSS Feeds.  Yes, our RSS Feed is up and running! (Ta-daaa!)

And our first month anniversary is just around the corner.  Tomorrow, June 22, is the day, and Mary Jo Putney has a lovely prize to award one lucky soul whose name will be drawn from our newsletter list.  There's still time to sign up and get in on the drawing.  Just click on the newsletter link in the sidebar to the right.  Be sure to come back tomorrow to see who won the drawing! And watch this space for more fun stuff (think guest interviews, think book give-aways).

Sherrie, loving Jo's gardening post and remembering that just a few short months ago, this is what it looked like off my back deck ...

Off the top of my head

Sorry to be late with this. I wrote it last night and was looking for a suitable picture to attach when I was sidetracked by a conversation on talley sticks, and taxation then and now. Yup, that really does happen 'round here sometimes. Much fun was had by all. :)

But I wrote, continuing in the spirit of whatever is on my mind, about gardening.

If weeding burned a lot of calories, I'd be sylph-like, especially as I actually like it, which is not true of most other forms of exercise. If sitting around reading and writing was healthy for the body, I coulda been an Olympic contender!

I'm not at all tidy by nature, but I enjoy being down on my kneely pad plucking weeds out from among the plants I want to keep. Some of the "weeds" are actually plants I do want to keep in other places, such as California poppies and foxgloves. Victoria does tend to lead to a bountiful garden.

This sort of peaceful activity -- when the rugby players aren't howling in the nearby park, or someone isn't plying a leaf-blower -- is a great time to let the creative mind drift around in the hope it'll snag some useful flotsam. Except that'd mean I'd be looking for ideas other writers have tossed.

(From Wikipedia: Traditionally, Flotsam and jetsam are words that describe goods of potential value that have been thrown into the ocean. There is a technical difference between the two: jetsam has been voluntarily cast into the sea (jettisoned) by the crew of a ship, usually in order to lighten it in an emergency; while flotsam describes goods that are floating on the water without having been thrown in deliberately, often after a shipwreck.)

Hey, that's the answer to the question, "Where do you get your ideas?" From other authors' discards. I tossed one away the other day. If I could remember it I could wait to spot it in someone else's book. :)

This is a splendid idea because there's usually nothing wrong with the idea; it's just not for me.

But I get good ideas, too. My one short SF story, The Fruit Picker came to me when I was picking raspberries. (I have raspberries coming into fruit in the garden here for the first time. I don't know why I waited so long. I always grow raspberries.) But working down the row in the sun, picking the day's crop, I came up with a world which had gone vegetarian, but then the plants objected to being eaten and used all kinds of tricks to avoid being harvested, so a fruit picker was actually a fruit hunter.

So I enjoy this time of year in the garden, but it's rough on the hands even if I use gloves. And, of course, I always end up unconsciously abandoning them at some point. They say we authors should have nice-looking hands at signings because people look at them but when the literacy signing at the RWA conference rolls around in July, my hands are a hopeless cause.

I'll post a picture later in the day.

To our friend, the plants!

Jo

I put this in the Jo Beverley category, so we'll see how that works.

MAGIC MAN

   Professor Pat patters up to the podium. Whack, goes the gavel. “Class, come to order. I have been asked—for the thousandth time—how to switch point of view within a scene.  I thought I’d taught you that there is no Right way to Write.”

   Perky Pam waves her hand.  “But we were taught that headhopping is punishable by firing squad. It dilutes the emotional tension!”

   “Shoot that woman.” Professor Pat gestures to the firing squad. “Perky isn’t allowed here—but blatant self-promotion is,” she adds pertly. 

   Okay, so I was preparing an answer to a FAQ when it occurred to me that I could kill two birds with one stone, or two writers with one quill, or whatever metaphor you want to mangle today.  I have had people (including copyeditors who ought to know better) complain about my nasty habit of changing POVs without warning in the middle of a scene.  Since I examine all my work inside out and upside down, I have concluded I generally start doing this right about the time the couple start working together, so I’m quite happy to leave my style just as it is. 

   As the song says, there are a million ways to leave your point of view… The below excerpt at about the first quarter point of MAGIC MAN (Signet Eclipse—ON SALE 6/30 <G>) shows just one of many:

“If we could harness all the energy in this room,” Mr. Dougal murmured, leaning his elbow on the top of the secretary and speaking so only Mora could hear, “we could power Ewen’s flying machine.”

She fully understood his reference to energy.  The room bristled with primal vibrations that seemed to be affecting her as well.  She was amazed that their thoughts took parallel paths. “Flying machine?” she asked faintly, his closeness reducing the room to the two of them.

“I’ll show you later. Did they pry the rest of the message from you?”

She nodded.  “I’m sorry.  If it applies to their family, and there’s some real danger, I thought I must.”

“Let’s make the best of it, then,” he said without reproof.

Before she could question him further, he spoke loudly to break the chatter filling the salon.  “If we divide up for a search, I recommend the ladies stay in pairs.  If Felicity and Leila are confined to this floor, then Ninian should help Christina search the tower, if only to keep Drogo from flinging the duchess out of it.  Ewen, you take the public rooms downstairs.  Dunstan, the servants’ quarters and greenhouse.”

“That leaves Mora without a partner,” Christina pointed out.

“She and I will search the walls for hiding places,” he said with satisfaction.

Dunstan and Ewen hooted and whistled knowingly.  The ladies exchanged laughing looks.  Aidan disregarded the provocation.  He’d accomplished what he wanted.  Miss Abbott was looking at him with admiration and a hint of surprise.

-------------------------------------------------------------

   How do you like the way Mr. Dougal took command of that scene right out of our heroine’s hands? Head?

   Headhopping may dilute emotional intensity, but who in heck wants to be deep down in someone’s head or heart all the time?  It’s much more fun to see how they react against each other sometimes.

   See, be very wary what you ask me.  I just might tell you.

MJP's Voice of America interview

From Mary Jo:

Just a quick note to say that on Wednesday morning, June 21st (tomorrow), I'll be doing a live interview on the Author's Exclusive show on the Voice of America radio network.   (Whoops, I typed "newtwork," which conjured some interesting thoughts but doesn't fit here. <g>) 

This is the first show by the interviewer, a friend of Jo Beverley named Solveig McLaren.  This new internet radio show will focus on romance novels, especially those with paranormal elements. This first show will have me and Laurell K Hamilton.  Elevated company! 

My interview will start at 9:30 am EDT or a few minutes before.  It will be repeated between 9:00 and 10:00 pm EDT the same day, and archived for thirteen weeks.  All you have to do is go to www.voice.voiceamerica.com  If your speakers are working, you'll hear whatever is being currently broadcast.

Solveig's website is:  http://www.publicityworks.net/

I love her Scandanavian name--whenever I see it, I think of the Peer Gynt suite, which certainly has some lovely paranormal type music. <g>

Mary Jo, whistling Grieg's "In the Hall of the Mountain King"  ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/In_the_Hall_of_the_Mountain_King )

More Living History, Living Research

From Susan/Miranda:

I loved Loretta’s recent entry on visiting Old Sturbridge Village. I’m a great believer in the value of researching through living history museums and restorations, too, and with Loretta’s blessing, I’m adding my perspective.

Writing historical fiction is like writing fantasy: both create alternative worlds for readers to visit. The bare facts of life in the past are available to anyone with a library or computer, but a skilled fiction writer must use all her senses to bring her story and characters and setting to life. For me, living history museums have helped add an extra element to my writing in ways that no research book alone ever could.

For several years (before I started hanging out in ice rink parking lots), I volunteered as an interpreter at the Colonial Pennsylvania Plantation in Ridley Creek State Park. This is a much more modest living history museum than Sturbridge. It’s a single-family working 18th century farm, complete with the original stone house, as well as outbuildings, animals, kitchen garden, and fields planted with crops. The Plantation is primarily a teaching museum, and a favorite field trip for school groups in the Philadelphia area, with hundreds of children a day visiting during the peak spring season. While it’s a hands-on experience for the kids (trying on replica clothing, tasting food they help gather and prepare, drawing water from the well, and, of course, shrieking with gleeful horror over the privy), the Plantation was strict about keeping everything as accurate as possible.

We interpreters weren’t in character, but we did dress like farmer’s wives of the middling sort from head to toe. Our modern colored hair had to be hidden by linen caps, we wore stays that creaked and thread stockings that never stayed up no matter how tightly the garters were tied. The only jewelry permitted was wedding rings,

Dressed like this, we ran the tours, and worked the farm. While it’s always useful to wear clothing from the past and feel how it sits on the body, it’s another experience entirely to feel how those same clothes perform in action. Petticoat hems get dusty from unpaved streets, and wet and heavy dragging across morning dew. Before zippers and velcro, clothes required buttons, lacing, and straight pins to stay in place, and it took a lonnnnng time to dress each morning. Those neat little ruffled caps were not only the last word in goodwife modesty, but also kept long hair in place (and away from the hazardous open flames of candles and hearths) better than any modern scrunchie. An 18th century farmwife or laundress thought nothing of hoisting oak buckets full of water, each weighing as much as twenty pounds. The whalebone strips (ok, now they’re made of plastic) sewn into stays served nicely as a built-in back-support for heavy lifting, much like a weight-lifter’s belt at the gym.

Our clothes were handsewn from wool or linen, natural, indigenous fibers that were both historically accurate and fire retardant. A wayward spark on a wool or linen petticoat will smolder, while the same spark on cotton or silk will immediately burst into flame. I hadn’t realized how those gauzy imported Indian cotton muslins so popular with Georgian and Regency ladies were one more way to demonstrate proudly that the lady was a Lady, who never worked over an open hearth from fear of catching on fire.

I’ve never written a book set in colonial Pennsylvania, and given the current climate in New York publishing, I don’t see that changing any time soon. But my experience at the Plantation helped make my writing infinitely richer, no matter what my story. I learned details of 18th century life that would apply just as readily to a duchess in London as to Quaker farmer.

I learned that no matter how roaring the fire in the fireplace may be, the heat only extends five feet into the room, and yes, the water in the washstand and the ink on the desk will freeze in the winter. I learned different sounds: the squeak of the horse’s leather harness, the dry crack of a flintlock musket or pistol, the way voices and footsteps echo in rooms with uncarpeted floors and uncurtained windows. I learned that no matter how many wool-stuffed mattresses are piled beneath a featherbed, the rope springs that are at the heart of every bedstead make for creaky, uncomfortable sleep. I learned that a closed-up house heated by firewood is smoky, and that the inhabitants have red-rimmed eyes, perpetual coughs, and a fine grey dusting of soot on their clothes. I learned that, before Febreeze, Life Smelled: from wood smoke, cooking, privies, animals, and people.

And if all this learnin’ makes me another of Loretta’s self-proclaimed history nerds, then I’ll proudly wear the t-shirt.

On Father's Day

It's Sunday, it's Edith, wishing everyone a Happy Father's Day!

And while I do, I admit that Father's Day makes me sad, because I miss my father. And I miss the father of my children.

Now, it's natural that both Mother's Day and Father's Day make lots of people remember what they once had and feel wistful, especially when everyone else is celebrating what they do have.

But I don't begrudge the general joyousness. In the words of the song:

"I've had a love of my own."

So, some advice: hug your father, or your children's father, or any father you love, a little extra hard today.

Hold them closer to your heart.

And if you only do that this one day a year, still, that's fine. Do it anyway.

It's Father's Day. Celebrate them, and the time you have together.

May it be a long and happy time.

Administrative Issue and Our Anniversary!

We heard a voice crying in the wilderness, and we responded.  Actually, we heard several voices.  Some of you were unhappy with the way your name displayed at the end of your comments.  There was a dotted line, and then your name appeared below the line.  This made it look like your name was attached to the comment below your name, not above it. Well, we found a way to outwit The System (heh heh) and now your names will appear above the dotted line.  Ain't that nifty?!!

Those of you who've been with us since the beginning (we love ya, baby!) will know that June 22 marks the one month anniversary of bloghood for the Wenches.  To celebrate, we're going to award a cool prize to some lucky soul whose name will be drawn from our newsletter list.  If you'd like to get in on the drawing, be sure to sign up for the newsletter before June 22!

Sherrie Holmes, rubbing her hands together and thinking about all the neato things we have planned for you in upcoming  months ...

Blacksmiths, too

Yes, we had blacksmiths, too,  I know they didn't wear safety goggles in the early 19th C, but I guess OSHA insists.  Also, the blacksmith did point out that the log was not the proper surface to work on, being unsteady.  We learned that horse's shoes had to be replaced every couple of months--and they had special shoes for winter, with cleat sort of attachments.  And that it's much easier to shoe a horse than an ox.

The Pig & I: Living History

      From Loretta:
      
      Ah, synchronicity.  Susan/Sarah mentioned experiential research.  I cannot catch an arrow in my hand, but I do like to get in touch with the real thing.
      
      As the Saturday girl, I often have to blog and run, because this is my day to get done what I couldn’t do all week on account of slaving over a hot manuscript.  The current work I’m sweating over is the fourth in the Carsington brothers series.
      
      As discussed in my blog about maps, environment is crucial to me.  Ideally, in writing MISS WONDERFUL, I would have visited Derbyshire’s Peak District again.  For MR. IMPOSSIBLE, I would have explored the interior of an Egyptian pyramid or tomb.  For LORD PERFECT, I would revisit certain parts of London as well as the A4, which is approximately the Great Road to Bath my hero and heroine followed.
      
      However, even if I could travel hither and yon whenever the mood or muse strikes--which I can’t--I couldn’t time travel to the early 19th century and experience the world as my heroes and heroines would have experienced it.  So I have to do most of my research at home, via books and web surfing.  But now and again, a living history museum will do the trick.
      
      My current story, like MISS WONDERFUL and parts of LORD PERFECT, is set in the English countryside.  This time I’m working with the part of the early 19th C world that tends to be invisible in many of our stories, rather as the servants were expected to be.  This time my characters, though aristocrats, find it necessary (because I say so) to pay attention to all the inelegant, workaday stuff crucial to keeping grand country houses operating and the inhabitants fed and comfortable within them:  dairy and laundry, brew-house, bakehouse, game larder, dovecote, cowshed, pig sty, etc., etc.
      
      To get a feel for this world, I longed to travel to England and visit one of the country estates where you can go inside an old dairy or a laundry room.  This idea went the way of visiting the Peak, Egypt, and the Great Road to Bath.  I found some good books of course.  There are always good books.  They could not recreate the sight and smell of the livestock, unfortunately.  But luckily there is a place not too far away that could.

      And so last Saturday, I blogged and ran to Old Sturbridge Village, which is right here in Massachusetts.  This is one of at least two living history museums in New England.  The other is Plimoth Plantation, a recreation of the 17th C Plymouth, Massachusetts settlement (they spelled it differently, back in the days when people spelled words more or less they way they felt like it).
      
      Old Sturbridge Village recreates a New England village of the early 19th century.  The website has tons of useful material, including an online collection of clothing and artifacts, historical documents, and articles by historians.
      http://www.osv.org/
      
      Still, a website ain’t nothing like the real thing.
      
      It was a cold and rainy day (June hereabouts has been mostly cold and rainy) as we drove there, but my husband and I have spent time in Scotland, where it mostly rained and sometimes snowed with thunder and lightning and gale-force winds and hail (all within the same quarter hour) in June.  So a torrential downpour is nothing.  We dressed appropriately.  As we arrived, the sky began to clear, a good omen.
      
       Here’s the scene that greeted us as we left the visitor center.  And my little nerdy heart went pitty-pat.  Ooh.  Cows (well, it was a bull, actually) and pigs and goats!  All in a row.

      The bull stood on that ramp, mooing--or bellowing: I’m not sure what bulls do but he was demanding attention.  He saw a person inside the barn and assumed she would feed him.  Bulls think that’s what people are for.    
          
    

The goats were sweet, though they tended to look off into the distance as though they had their minds on, oh, I don’t know--pyramids? 

     But the pigs, oh, the pigs.  Well, let’s let the pictures speak for themselves.

After we finally tore ourselves away from the pigs, and began to ramble the place, we learned from an interpreter that the breeds of livestock at Old Sturbridge village are historically accurate.  Even more exciting for me, these breeds of animals were English breeds--the sort that might have been on the home farm of my fictional estate.  The pigs were Gloucester Old Spots.  The red cows were Devon Long Horns.  The other cows were Milking Short Horns.  And the poultry were Dorking chickens.  I didn’t get the breeds of sheep or goats, but I know I can email OSV and someone will tell me.  Because that’s how they are.  These people are just chock full of knowledge and delighted to be asked questions.  They had all kinds of things to tell me that I didn’t know or hadn’t thought about.  It was a wonderful experience all around.
      
      I’m covering only a tiny fragment of what’s to be found and experienced there.  I was focused on livestock so that’s mainly where I spent my time.  But there are beautiful gardens, including an extensive herb garden.  A river runs through it, and you can take a boat trip.  There are concerts and gardening workshops as well as activities for kids.  But if you don’t feel like doing anything in particular, it’s simply a beautiful and peaceful place to spend the day.  Plus, there’s ice cream.  And shops, of course.
      
      Oh, and there’s a social benefit, too.  Many of our living history museums, like OSV, are having to tighten their belts these days, and some of them will not make it unless we support them by visiting and telling our friends.  I’m happy to support them because they give so much in return.
      
      Any living history museums in your area?  Or historical museums of the more static kind?  Pigs are not crucial to my enjoyment.  Right now I’m looking for a place that has an early 19th C stable, preferably an elegant one.  I’d still like to see a dairy (where they make the butter & cheese, not where they milk the cows).  But it doesn’t really matter whether or not it’s pertinent to the current book.  We nerds love learning something, anything--and an author never knows where the next idea might come from.

Blatant self-promotion: PETALS IN THE STORM

Okay, I know you really want to know about the books we’re flogging, right?  You lucky people, I have two—count them, two!—releases in June.  I’ve already posted on THE MARRIAGE SPELL, and I thank all of you who’ve made such lovely comments about the story.

But I haven’t said much about PETALS IN THE STORM.  Granted, it’s a reissue with roots that go way back, but I’m the sort who tends to care about people and things indefinitely, so I’m still very fond of the characters and story.  In fact, Petals (I don’t like to use initials for this book because that would be PITS <g>) started life as a very long Signet Regency.  THE CONTROVERSIAL COUNTESS was the fourth traditional Regency I’d written, and the one where I realized that the longer, more adventurous Regency historical was really where I belonged.  (Two of my first four Signet Regencies, nominally 75K words, had drafted around 120K.  And the plots tended to be pretty active.) 

The hero of Petals, Rafael Whitbourne, Duke of Candover, had a walk-on role in my previous book, The Would-Be Widow.  He was your basic dark, disdainful duke, but in his last scene, he showed a flash of vulnerability that intrigued me.  He was a man who had loved and lost, so naturally I wanted to write a book about him.

I adore the smoldering intensity of lost-love-regained stories (later I learned they’re called reunion stories, but I like my name better), so I sent Rafe off to the Paris peace conference that was held after Waterloo to decide what to do about France since Napoleon had blown up the hard work of the Congress of Vienna after he escaped from Elba.  Rafe could move in the highest circles, so he was asked to listen to what was said and pass information to British intelligence.  He’s told to work with a mysterious and highly talented Hungarian countess called Magda Janos, who spies for the British.

He meets the countess—and finds that she’s the very British Margot Ashton--the only woman he’d ever loved, and whom he’d thought dead for a dozen years.  They'd parted on very bad terms, with anger and recriminations.  But stubborn, rather arrogant, Rafe learns that the past isn’t what he thought, and dammit, Maggie is still the only woman he’s ever loved.  After a lot of adventures and major humbling on Rafe’s part, they work out their problems. 

Even though the book was published as a Signet Regency, it had the plot and soul of a historical.  So several years later, when I was writing historicals and decided to do my Fallen Angels trilogy (yes, this is the seven book trilogy <g>), I was thinking about archangel names and wishing I could use Rafael, because it’s a good name and Rafe would fit right in with this crowd. 

Bingo!  Because NAL was crash publishing the first Fallen Angels book, THUNDER AND ROSES, to launch their Topaz imprint, I was going to have a gap between books.  So I suggested to my editor that I revise The Controversial Countess into a Fallen Angels book.  She thought that was a fine idea, and the result was Petals.  Editing the book into a historical took less time than writing a new one, which was good for my scheduling, and indeed, Rafe fit in beautifully with the other Fallen Angels.  The revision polished the writing, removed some Regency-isms, and became a little sexier.  It was the same story and characters, but better suited to publication as a historical romance.

I had two main thoughts in mind as I wrote the original story.  English aristocratic males were often raised in ways that would make them fairly harsh and unlovable in real life.  At the least, they would tend to have trouble expressing themselves emotionally.  This is one reason my heroes have often suffered greatly: to increase their empathy and make them more believable as romantic heroes. (Besides, torturing heroes is fun.  <eg>)  In Petals, Rafe starts as the typical dark, arrogant tempered duke, and is greatly improved by learning some painful truths.

For Margot, the heroine, I was interested in contemplating the aftereffects of serious trauma.  She has also suffered greatly, and become stronger in the mended places.  Nonetheless, it takes Rafe’s love and acceptance to complete the last bit of healing.  And lest you think that her recovery is too improbable—something all too similar to Maggie's trauma happened to a friend of mine.  Yes, healing is possible. (Some of Margot’s thoughts reflect things I learned from my friend.) 

So I still love the book and Margot and Rafe, and if you haven’t read it and think you might like the story by all means, read it! 

As an aside, when I first started writing the story, I needed a foil for Maggie, so in a finger snap, I created Robin Andreville, the blond, enigmatic English spy who has been her friend and mentor.  He intrigued me so much that I went on to write him into the book that became The Rogue and the Runaway, and later ANGEL ROGUE.  AR will be reissued in November, the last Fallen Angels book to be reissued.  But that’s a story for another day. 

Mary Jo, thinking back on how researching this book pre-internet was a lot of hard work!

The Marriage Crunch Revisited

From Mary Jo:

In 1986, Newsweek magazine wrote a cover story called “The Marriage Crunch” which famously said that a white, educated single woman of 40 had a better chance of being killed by a terrorist than getting married.  That remark didn’t seem quite as tasteless before 9/11, but it was outrageous enough to be picked up and widely quoted.  (I once read a women’s fiction novel based on the idea of four single women offended by the idea who pledged to go out and find themselves husbands in the next year.  Their results were mixed.)

You have to give Newsweek credit—in their June 5th issue, they revisited the story and cheerfully admitted they’d been wrong.  They tracked the fourteen single women referenced in the original story and located eleven.  Eight of the eleven had eventually married, several had children, and interestingly, none of them had divorced.  The three women who hadn’t married were living full, rewarding lives.

The original prediction about the dreadful odds against educated women marrying if they waited too long (at age 40, the figure was pegged at 2.6%) was flawed because the times, they were a’changing.  Being a demographer is like forecasting weather—working with statistics describing the past can be useful, but they don’t always predict the future. 

In the ‘80s, women were expanding their skills and goals.  They were delaying marriage because they had wanted more education and had wider options.  There was less of a panicky need to go to college to get a “Mrs. Degree,” and more freedom to make choices.  Nonetheless, most of the women in the earlier article did get married and most people do yearn to find the right mate.   

I found all of this quite intriguing since romance and marriage are my business.  Society has changed a lot in the last twenty years, and those changes are reflected in popular fiction.  Since we Wenches write popular fiction—who would want to write UNpopular fiction?—one way or another, we’re affected by what’s happening out there even though we write historical novels.

In contemporary romances, the secretary heroine of twenty years ago may have morphed into a CEO or a hot shot consultant today.  There are whole categories for kickass heroines a la Buffy the Vampire Slayer.  The romance world has become a whole lot more diverse. 

In historical romances, the changes are more subtle, but today’s heroine is more likely to be a woman with a well developed mind rather than a teenager with little to commend her beyond a nubile body and her stunning beauty. 

My heroines have always been fairly independent, though in ways consistent with the historical record.  There have always been women who have had to support themselves, like my Welsh schoolteacher. (Thunder and Roses)  There have even been British women who have been warlords in the Middle East, like the heroine of my book Silk and Secrets.  (Check out Lady Hester Stanhope if you’d like to know more about such a woman in real life.  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lady_Hester_Stanhope ) 

Writing paranormal romances adds a whole new dimension to strong heroines.  In my two alternative history series, magic is a great equalizer.  In my Guardian world (A Kiss of Fate, Stolen Magic, and the book I’m working on now), women have magical power that can equal or surpass that of male Guardians.  In the Regency world of the Stone Saints (The Marriage Spell, my new book), aristocratic men are actively discouraged from having anything to do with magic.  Which means they have a lot to learn from the women in their lives.  <g> 

Not that I want to create domineering heroines: my ideal in both real life and my books is an egalitarian relationship.  I don’t mean that both parties must split all responsibilities down the middle: there is a reason why most households have had a division of labor through the centuries.  But there should be mutual respect.  A willingness to listen to each other’s views and make compromises.  A desire to go more than halfway to keep the relationship happy and healthy. 

Maintaining a relationship of equals is harder than when one person is in charge all the time.  There are times when one partner is running low on strength and the other has to pick up the slack.  Times when both partners have deeply felt and incompatible needs.  Such circumstances aren’t always easy to work through, bBut the rewards can be great.  It’s nice not to have to carry all the responsibility, all of the time.  Or not to be told what to do all the time.  I rather like taking turns. <g>

The egalitarian relationship has become much more popular in recent years, but there have always been couples who have achieved it.  John and Abigail Adams were role models right at the beginning of the republic.  Marie and Pierre Curie shared their lives, their laboratories, and their scientific fame.  I’m sure you can think of other couples through the ages who shared the good and the bad in an egalitarian way.  (And they didn’t have to be famous—my maternal grandparents had a good partnership from what I know of them.)

To bring this back to writing, a powerful romance shows how these two characters fit together--what each sees in the other.  How they enrich each other’s lives.  What is special in their relationship.  In my current release, the heroine, Abigail, isn’t attracted to the hero because he’s the best looking man around—she points out to him that most of his friends are better-looking. <g>  But he seems funny and good-natured, and that rings her chimes.  For his part, he likes that she’s down to earth and practical and intelligent, not a terrifyingly perfect London socialite.  Even though she’s a wizard (ugh! hiss!), he can’t resist her kindness and sensuality. 

If I had to define the essence of a good romance, I’d say that a writer needs to show what these two particular people love about each other.  Plus, the characters should deserve each other—no pairing a great person with a cranky twit.  Make them fit well together. 

Yep—that’s all there is to it: the secret of writing romance, revealed here today! 

Mary Jo, sure a few other secrets will be revealed in the comments. <G>

Inspiration in Odd Places

I did a bit of field research last night for a medieval setting I’m currently writing.

I saw Spamalot at the National Theater in DC (hey, it’s medieval!).

My husband and I are longtime Monty Python fanatics, er, fans, and we passed that gene along to our kids, who were spouting lines like "Wot, the curtains?!" and "Yer muzzah waz a hamztah an yer fazzer smelt of eldterbewwies" when they were very small. So we trooped off to see the show, delighted that a company had come to DC so we didn’t have to arrange a family trip to NYC to see it on Broadway (which we had been discussing).

Here’s my quick review: Spamalot is flat-out hilarious, and wildly creative. It deserves every Tony Award they can throw at it. Eric Idle wrote the show, adding new scenes and new songs with John Du Prez. They translated the movie "Monty Python and the Holy Grail" brilliantly to the stage, adding send-ups of several Broadway musicals while they were at it. Somehow it’s all just as funny, and even funnier in some bits, than the movie. The sets and special effects are amazingly creative, and the cast is excellent, with some truly extraordinary talent among them. The connection with the audience is a big part of the show: not only did applause break out as soon as familiar characters and bits appeared (all the French knight had to do was pop up from behind the battlements for a huge round of applause) -- the show takes it further by involving audience members toward the end.

And though the performers must have done this a zillion times by now, Spamalot maintains a sense of spontaneity and unpredictable humor, with flashes of creative brilliance. It’s exhilarating. I could have watched another hour of that raucous madness easily. And many of the audience members left whistling, and singing ...Always look on the briiiiiiiight side of life....

Spamalot is inspired lunacy.

That’s all well and good, you may be thinking...but this is Word Wenches territory, and what does this blog have to do with writing?!

Hmm.... Creativity in action. The benefits of teamwork and brainstorming. And of course, the benefits of field research!

Creativity in action: No matter what a writer is doing, part of the brain is always in writing and creative thinking mode. My head was whirling as I watched the show, and I was in awe of the ecstatic creativity that brought the whole thing about. And some of the solutions the writers chose to translate the story and characters from screen to stage were fascinating. For instance, the character of Dennis the peasant, who flings mud and talks about the autonomous collective, only has a short scene in the movie. On stage, he’s transformed into Sir Galahad (in a funny parody of The Phantom of the Opera). A terrific, but throwaway, character is linked to an essential one in a great little plot twist.

In a draft of Waking the Princess, I had introduced the hero’s crabby old uncle, who ultimately didn’t move the plot along much, so he had to go. But I liked one aspect about him: he flung teacups at people when he got into a snit. So I transformed the character into a pet monkey who throws china across the room, and worked that into the first meeting of the hero and heroine. Et voila! The bit I liked was salvaged, and the plot moved along.

Teamwork and brainstorming: Writers work primarily in isolation (whether it’s in a spare bedroom or home office, or a sunny deck, or the blissful quiet of a Toyota Camry...), and that comes naturally to writers for the sake of the work. But sometimes I’ll reach an impasse in a story, and I'll appeal to a couple of writer friends--we'll toss that thing around like a volleyball until it gets going again. And if one of my friends gets stuck, the help is reciprocated. Then we go back to our isolation chambers. <g> As for teamwork, let us not forget the publishing team of agent, editor, and production departments that gets that book out there on the bookstore shelves!

Brainstorming with others can help unstick a stuck story – just as the creative teamwork in Spamalot was essential to the success of the story and the show (yeah, I realize it’s an entirely different genre/medium, but the idea applies!). Too much brainstorming isn't good for writer or story, but the right dose, now and then, can stimulate a miracle cure.

Field research: I love experiential research, and maybe another time I’ll blog in more detail about that. It's great to step away from the stacks of research books to absorb information and atmosphere another way. Though I’ve poured long hours into researching Celtic harp playing and fiddling, archery, blacksmithing, falconry, and several other topics, often the best research bits come from trying something myself. I’ve flown hawks and practiced archery, and I even learned to catch an arrow for the sake of a plot point. And I own a customized longbow (ok, so it’s not that long, I’m under 5 ft. tall...). Shooting that bow has come in handy for more than one of the medievals I've written.

So there’s a bit o’ Spamalot morphed into some observations on writing. When you write, whether historicals or contemporary, let yourself be creative not only with the writing, but with your resources too. No matter if it's a stretch--if it gets your creative wheels turning, go for it!

And remember to Always look on the briiiiiight side of life... <<whistling>>

Susan/ sarah

A bit of medieval research:

King Arthur and his knights from Spamalot

Riffing from comments

Without a word to my fellow Wonder Wenches, I'm trying something a little different -- responding to comments as a principal post. Let me know if this is a Good Thing or a Bad Thing. And if you think that's a Martha Stewart reference, no, it's 1066 AND ALL THAT. If you haven't read it, hunt down a copy.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1066_and_All_That

I quote from the above.
"Although the subtitle states that the book comprises "103 Good Things, 5 Bad Kings and 2 Genuine Dates", the book's preface (which is compulsory) mentions that originally four dates were planned, but last-minute research revealed that two of them were not memorable. The two dates that are self-referenced in the book are 1066, the Battle of Hastings and the Norman invasion of Britain, and 55 BC, the first Roman invasion of Britain under Julius Caesar. However, when the date of the Roman invasion is given it is immediately followed by mention of the fact that Caesar was "compelled to invade again the following year (54 BC, not 56, owing to the peculiar Roman method of counting)", thereby adding the extra two dates that clearly are not memorable.

A joke typifying the humour is listing Shakespearean histories as kings of England, such as Kings Henry IV, Part 1 and Henry IV, Part 2. Famous phrases from the book include "This was a Good Thing"; "This was a Bad Thing"; "Wave of saints"; and "Do you consider yourself a Good King or a Bad King?". It also contains several joke test papers interspersed among the chapters, which contain nonsense instructions including the famous "On no account attempt to write on both sides of the paper at once" and "Do not attempt to answer more than one question at a time"."

Is it a wonder that I ended up weird when raised on that, the Goons, I'm Sorry I'll Read That Again, and Monty Python.

However, to comment on comments, yes, Wylene, the MIP is about Dare's sister and the man who hates the Rogues. Wouldn't that make a neat title? THE MAN WHO HATES THE ROGUES. No one in NY would go for it. Let's not get started on titles. BTW, though, it'll almost certainly appear on many shelves a week or so early,so late August, just as LORD OF MIDNIGHT will probably appear in a couple of weeks. Ack!

Starting to read the Rogues. It really is best to read them in order if you can because some threads do run through. An Arranged Marriage has just been reprinted, so even if it isn't on shelves, you should be able to order it. If not, let me know. The order from there is on my website.
http://www.jobev.com/booklist.html

Truth. Dare is the last of the Rogues to be settled and I knew that was significant. I was half way through the book, however, before I realized that it is the true end of a long story arc of 14 books written between 1990 and now. (That's not considering that I wrote the first draft of the first book in 1977.) Incidents in the first book have set up ripple effects that won't be over until Dare is fully healed and happy.

This does not mean that a reader has to have read them all to enjoy it. I'm not just saying that. The story itself stands on its own. It's that there are little touches here and there that those familiar with the books will appreciate, an underpattern, perhaps. Not necessary to understanding the story, but pretty neat. I say that as someone who had no clue until characters mentioned it.

I'm off to See-see the dragon, Ruar of the Dragon's Womb, and the pissed-off Princess -- "No one said I actually had to do the virgin sacrifice thing!" -- Rozlinda.

Jo :)