Word Wenches

Regency Chick Lit! An Interview with Janet Mullany

  by Mary Jo

Janet Mullany created buzz two years ago with the publication of her “Regency chick lit” romance, The Rules of Gentility.  Now she’s back with a second of that ilk, A Most Lamentable Comedy. 

A native of England, Janet lives in the Washington area and I know her from the Washington and Maryland RWA chapters. 
 
Often when putting together an interview, I start with an author’s website, and Janet’s ( www.janetmullany.com ) is so much fun that I could have taken the whole interview right off what she has posted there.  But having her here in person is so much better!  
 
MJP:  Janet, could you tell us a bit of your background and how you became a writer?  In particular, a romance writer?
 
JM: Becoming a writer. Hmm. I attribute it to menopause. I'd always written a lot of stuff, promotional material, for work, and one day I thought I'd try fiction. I'm not one of those people who've always wanted to be a writer but I've always read a lot and very widely, which I think was my initial training.

After I started writing I thought I'd better check out what other writers were doing, and I discovered Maryland Romance Writers. I was so impressed by the attitude of the members--that they were career-driven and wanted to sell--that I decided I'd like to hang out with them although I wasn't absolutely sure I was writing romance. My characters always seemed to want to have sex and complicate their lives by falling in love, though, so I considered I was halfway there.
 
MJP: You more or less invented Regency chick lit, I think.  Tell us about A Most Lamentable Comedy. 
 
JM: It's a sort-of sequel to Rules. I realized I might have to prove that Rules wasn't a one-off book, so I found a minor character to be my heroine for the next book. She's first caught in a compromising situation with Inigo in Rules and her name originally was Mary. But after Philomena's breathless twittering on about Inigo's trousers and fashion, I wanted to clear my literary palate and write about a worldly, bad girl, so I renamed her Caroline, and she immediately started behaving badly, which was very gratifying.

Six years after Rules, she's a woman who's on the slippery slope to ruin, widowed, seriously in debt and with an absolute talent for getting into trouble, on the lookout for a husband or protector. You can read the beginning here: http://www.janetmullany.com/a-most-lamentable-comedy-excerpt.

She's after money, and she thinks she's found it when she meets a handsome, mysterious stranger, Nicholas Congrevance; but he's a con man who's looking for a rich, gullible woman as his next mark. He's been abroad and so doesn't know about her predicament. They both take refuge at a country house party which revolves around an amateur production of A Midsummer Night's Dream, with some of the characters from Rules.

Now, I should warn you that Caroline and Nick don't reform and become exemplary characters. I really don't write that sort of book. What they find is what they need--love, friendships, community--as well as solutions to their financial woes.
 
MJP: What was the biggest mistake you made when you first began writing?
 
JM: I think the biggest mistake I didn't make was listen to people who said "You can't do that in a romance." Other than that, it was fairly typical, boring, craft stuff like run-on sentences and inappropriate jokes, although I think I'm still doing both of those. And I'm still a fairly lousy plotter.
 
MJP:  What do you consider key elements of a great story?
 
JM: I want to laugh and cry, possibly on the same page, and I want to read a book with complex characters, some ambiguity (I don't want all the ends to be tied up; I like to ponder about what-ifs), and great, clear cliché-free writing.
 
MJP:  Are there any trends you hope to see in romance in the next few years?
 
JM: I'd love to see the genre stretched and the rules bent a little more. Personally I feel a bit Duked-out at the moment. Since I'm English from a lower upper middle class family that voted Labour I'm not particularly thrilled about aristocrats.
 
MJP: What are you working on now?
 
JM: I'm fixing to get ready to start thinking about writing lots of things. I have a two-book contract, Immortal Jane Austen with HarperCollins--speculative-historical paranormal fiction starring Jane Austen, the first of which is set in Bath, where Jane Austen joins up with vampires in defeating a French invasion. My brother, with whom I brainstormed the idea, thought I should call it Austen Powers and I wanted to call it Blood Bath.

I have two more Regency chicklits for Little Black Dress, Improper Relations, which I've just finished and which will be coming out next year, and another tentatively titled Mr. Bishop and the Actress because I think it's a great title. And I'll be writing for Harlequin Spice as Liz Diamond, with the first of two books coming out in 2011. So I'll be very busy. I'm very lucky.

Thanks for having me here at the Word Wenches, Mary Jo!

MJP: Thanks so much for joining us, Janet!  The book sounds like a hoot.

Janet will be giving away a signed copy of A Most Lamentable Comedy to someone who comments on this blog by midnight Saturday, so chat away!

Mary Jo

Archaic Words

   Pat here:

Every so often on writers’ lists a discussion will break out over the historical use of words. We fight over archaic terms like doth and hath, and we quibble over the origins of Heyer’s Regency slang, some of which she seems to have been made up.  We pull out our Partridge’s Vulgar Dictionary and track down boxing cant. Mostly, we’re trying to obtain the unobtainable—an historically accurate fictional world that a modern reader can understand.

I know I’ve stumbled across any number of words that have totally different meanings today than two hundred years ago, but of course my lamentable memory can never recall them when I need them. (If you can think of some, click comment below and remind me.) I went web-surfing to see what I could turn up.

This site http://knowledgerush.com/kr/encyclopedia/List_of_archaic_English_words_and_their_modern_equivalents/ has a nice list of archaic terms and their origins, including medieval usages such as dost, hath, and goest that modern readers might understand but would despise reading unless they were heavily into poetry.  It also mentions one that drives my editor insane— “gaol” instead of “jail.”  I don’t see why that’s so hard to grasp. It’s the appropriate English term for the time.  But she hates it, so I have to assume a lot of readers would feel the same.  So now I avoid putting my heroes behind bars.  I realize that if my characters called someone a “drab” or a “cove,” I’d have to include some clue in the sentence so today’s reader would read it as “whore” or “fellow” instead of “boring” and “water inlet.”  It’s doable, if I want the historical resonance. But adding explanations slows the pacing and takes up valuable space, so I have to be careful inserting archaic verbiage.  But I do love words like Cyprian and impure for ladies of the evening—so very rakish, right?

Another fun site is http://www.etymonline.com/index.php?l=a
I used that one to look up get, a word that is sadly overused in modern language and didn’t have the same meanings in Regency days.  If you dig through the definitions, you’ll see that the original meaning of get was from 1200, “to obtain, reach.”  That one still holds up today.  But “to get” as in “I got it, I understood it,” didn’t come into use until 1892.  “Getaway” is 1852, and “get-up” for costume is 1847.  I’m sure I’ve found a dozen other ways to use get that I’ve had to excise from my drafts, but the sound is already hurting my head.  Oh, and get as in someone’s offspring would be a Regency term that modern readers would have to look twice at before understanding, I suspect.

A word Mary Jo caught my Regency character using the other day was stoop. I come from a German-Dutch area of New York and we called our back steps “stoops.”  But an English Regency character wouldn’t be familiar with the word. Does the modern American reader care?

Of course, it isn’t just individual words that we must screen with a magnifying glass and OED in hand to achieve our historical goals.  It’s possible to create an historical ambiance using words we have today by combining them in a more leisurely, aristocratic pattern (Or leisurely Cockney or rural or whatever, if you're good at that). I consider speech patterns to be creating character more than historical language, but if it works….  My Regency hero in my current manuscript thinks “If guns were the solution to his problems, he had a vast array from which to choose.”  Had I written that from the perspective of a modern hero, he’d be far more likely to say, “If blowing his brains out would solve his problems, he had an arsenal at hand.”  All the words were in use in both periods, but I hope to convey a more historical tone by using more nuanced and less blunt language. Is it working?

And reading through the current WIP, I came across: Off guard, parenting, and banty hen.  I’ve been warned about off guard, told that it’s a football term that wasn’t available in the Regency, but I can’t find it in the etymology or Websters.  And it’s danged hard coming up with a synonym—He was caught off guard. He was caught asleep? <G>  Not precisely what I meant!  Parenting, of course, is blatantly contemporary, but just try coming up with a decent substitute.  “Rearing a child is difficult” might be correct, but “Parenting is difficult” simply sounds better to my modern ear. Rearing approaches my definition of archaic, right along with doth and hath, but that's probably just me.  And I seriously regret looking up banty hen because I’m going to use it anyway.  No one says banty any longer, so it has a nicely historical flavor. It’s a corruption of bantam and may still exist in the hills of Appalachia, where some form of 18th century English still lingers.  So I’ve convinced myself that my 19th century characters would have used the word, too.

Will my depredations upon classic Regency language cause my book to be flung against the wall?  What jars you out of a peaceful read, sends you to the dictionary, or causes you to be so irritated you set a book aside?

I get by with a little help from my friends

by Mary Jo

Historical authors tend to be research geeks—if you’re a regular reader at Word Wenches, you’ve probably noticed that.  <g>  We collect research libraries, and when another writer talks about a great research book, we lust after it.  A main reason I bought my present house was because I ran out of space to put books in the old house (and now I’m running out of space again, but that’s a tale for another day. 

But wonderful as books are, they are no substitute for actual experience.  Susan King has flown falcons, I’ve worn an eye patch when I wrote a hero who’d lost an eye, Pat Rice and her husband drove the remnants of Route 66 when she was researching  a contemporary road romance—the list goes on. 

And then there is the other form of harvesting direct experience:  Talking to people who have lived what we need to know. Besides wearing an eye patch, I talked to an NAL copywriter who had lost an eye in an accident.  She described her experience and put me in touch with the Texan who made her glass eyes (“the finest gentleman on earth.”)  He was terrific—he got into the business after losing an eye in Vietnam, and he took exquisite care to match the subtle patterns of the glass eye to the healthy eye.  He also told me how losing an eye made him a better shot, a talent my hero got to use when he needed it the most.  (This was in Veils of Silk.)

I started thinking of these kinds of research connections when Anne Gracie talked in her blog last week about the joy of walking a real labyrinth, a subject she’d learned about by reading my book, The Spiral Path.  I was delighted that the book had introduced her to something so new and interesting.

But I had to learn about labyrinths in the first place, and it was my writer friend Ciji Ware (www.cijiware.com ) who introduced me.  We were visiting Ciji and her husband in San Francisco when she told me about labyrinths and how they were a wonderful tool for introspection and meditation.

So after dinner on Nob Hill, we walked a few blocks up the street to the magnificent Grace Cathedral, an Anglican cathedral with a breath taking view over San Francisco.  It was a female cleric at the church who began the modern American interest in labyrinths.  Grace Cathedral had an inside labyrinth, and also an outside one in their garden that could be walked by anyone at any hour of the day or night.  So we walked the labyrinth (the meditative experience was somewhat inhibited by several noisy young walkers), and I knew this was something that had to be part of my next book. 

There are many, many cases where information from friends has enriched my stories.   When I wrote Silk and Secrets, which is set in Central Asia, I was referred to an American woman whose husband is an Afghan whose family had left the country during the Soviet invasion.  The two of them were great, and I sat on piles of oriental carpets and sipped tea while asking questions about life in Central Asia.  As a young man, Qadir had played bozkashi, a sort of horseback riot where men fight over possession of a headless goat.  I’d read about the game and seen pictures, but some of the most vivid details came when he talked abut his experiences playing the game.

It’s a writerly gift to absorb the experience of other and turn it into words.  (This is why it’s dangerous to mess with writers!)  Qadir and his wife very generously read the manuscript to see if I got things right.  She told me her husband had asked, “How does she know these things?” as he read about the bozkashi match. 
 “Because you told her,” his wife replied.  And she was right. 

One of my most useful examples of getting information was when I was writing The China Bride.  While planning and writing the book, every time I got a reader e-mail from a woman with a Chinese surname, I would said, “Thank you, and would you mind reading this manuscript to check it when I’m done?” 

They all very generously said yes—and not only did they read the manuscripts, every one of them copyedited my typos.  <G>  One woman even wrote Chinese ideograms for different words down the edge of the page where the heroine was showing the English hero Chinese writing.  Lovely!

Another of this group of fact-checkers lived in Malaysia, and was able to help with information about information about the East Indies when I wrote the last book in the series, The Bartered Bride. 

Do you sense a theme here?  It can be dangerous to contact a writer. <G>  When an Indian American writer I knew slightly from the New Jersey Romance Writers asked me if I could read and perhaps quote on her upcoming book, I not only accepted with alacrity (she’s a fine writer and has a new book out in a few days, www.shobwanbantwal.com), but asked her if she would read the ms. of Loving a Lost Lord, which features a half-Hindu hero.  She did, and I used her comments about the scents of a Hindu temple, among other things. 

Writers are fortunate that so many people are happy to share their expertise with us.  I consulted several lawyers and a retired federal judge when writing my wrongful conviction contemporary, Twist of Fate.  One, a public defender, wrote a mesmerizing e-mail monologue about the need to defend the accused and keep authority honest.  With his permission, I incorporated a fair amount of it into my story. 

Honorary Word Wench Laurie Kingery, an ER nurse of vast experience, features regularly in the acknowledgements of my books as I bang up my characters in various gruesome ways.  Australian writer Fiona McArthur, a midwife, helped me with a critical scene in the second Lost Lords book.

Have I mention how much fun it to talk to such people?  Not only do I get information, but a different worldview, which enriches my life as well as my books. 

Of course, it isn’t only writers who benefit from this kind of interaction.  Who have you met that had knowledge that enlarged and enriched your life, even if it was only a fascinating conversation with a seatmate on an airplane?  How often have you learned of something from a friend or acquaintance and thought, “I have to know more about this!" 

And how often have people learned something fascinating from you?  I’d love to hear—and to remember for future reference! 

Mary Jo

One Man and his Dog

  Hello, this is Nicola, and today I'm combining two of my interests in one blog - animals and Prince Rupert of the Rhine, one of my historical heroes. Okay, it's not an obvious combination but bear with me. As an animal lover I've always been interested in the role of animals in history and possess a couple of fascinating books on the subject. Then I became curious about animals in paintings - those little faces in the corner of portraits - as a result of my work at Ashdown House where, on the third landing, we have the biggest portrait in our collection. The artist is William Dobson, court painter to King Charles I, and it was painted in about 1644 during the English Civil War. It shows Prince Rupert of the Rhine and two of his comrades, Colonel Russell and Colonel Murray, and in the bottom left hand corner of the picture is a dog. The dog wears a very fine coat in bright red with a silver trim and it has Prince Rupert's initials monogrammed onto it's collar. This is a very smart-looking dog indeed. It's watching the occupants of the picture with interest as well as gazing at Rupert with devotion!

Animals have featured in paintings for centuries. In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries they often carried some symbolic significance. The dog, for example, was usually a symbol of loyalty. By the eighteenth century, however, better documentation would enable the viewer to know whether an animal was included in a painting as a treasured pet, a status symbol, or for some other reason. One of my favourite paintings featuring a pet cat is in the National Portrait Gallery in London and shows a pretty grey and white tabby. Cats had been tolerated in households for centuries as the most effective form of pest control but they had undeserved associations with witchcraft, lethargy and lust! It was only in the eighteenth century that they came to be seen as suitable play companions for children and a symbol of civilised domesticity.

My absolute favourite portrait, however, was one that I came across when I was studying the cult of celebrity in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. It is a picture of Kitty Fisher, one of the most celebrated beauties of the 1750s and also one of the most notorious courtesans in London. The artist has made a pun on her name with his painting of the mischievous black and white fishing kitten. The reflection in the goldfish bowl is also a symbol of eighteenth century celebrity and an invasion of privacy that we can identify with today. It is also thought that this might be the first European pictorial representation of goldfish as well, as these were only introduced from China at the end of the seventeenth century.

Speaking of celebrity, Lady Caroline Lamb, somewhat naughtily, used a dog in a portrait to symbolise her scandalous extra-marital affair with Sir Godfrey Webster. The dog had been a present from her lover and in the painting it is wearing a bracelet about its neck that Sir Godfrey had given to Lady Caroline! The exhibition of the picture at the Royal Academy in 1811 caused absolute outrage in the family and Lady Caroline's mother-in-law Lady Melbourne wrote her a strongly worded letter of reproach. The dog, Phyllis, went on to bite Caroline's son Augustus but not even that seems to have dented her affection for the little creature!

Anyway, back to Prince Rupert of the Rhine and his faithful dog. Rupert, the son of Elizabeth of Bohemia and nephew of King Charles I was renowned for his love of animals, a curious and rather endearing trait in a man also known for his ferocity in battle! In this he was said to take after his mother who was thought to prefer "her dogs, her hunting and her monkeys" to her children, apparently in that order! In this though, Elizabeth was thought little different from the majority of the British aristocracy and even to this day it is said the Queen prefers animals to people! Her preference for pets may, however, have explained why Elizabeth of Bohemia was estranged from all of her children at one time or another. There is a story in the archives that relates that when Elizabeth and her family were forced to flee Bohemia after the Battle of the White Mountain in 1620, the butler was going through the palace to make sure that nothing valuable had been left behind and found Rupert, three years old at the time, abandoned in the nursery. He picked the child up and hurried after Elizabeth's carriage, only to discover that she had made sure that her pet monkey Jacko was safely inside whilst leaving her son behind!

The most famous of Rupert's pet dogs (he also had a pet hare!) was a Standard Poodle called Boy who ran with his cavalry. Boy was a particular target for the Roundheads, who became obsessed with the idea that he was Rupert's familar and attributed to him various magic powers, including that he was fluent in various languages, that he was invulnerable in battle and that he could put a spell on the enemy. Boy began to feature in Roundhead propaganda. A pamphlet of 1643 "Observations upon Prince Rupert's Dogge called Boy" reported that Boy sat beside Rupert in meetings of the King's Council and that Charles I allowed him to sit on the throne! Boy attended church services and was the toast of the Royalists after various victories. The Roundheads tried both poison and prayer to destroy "this Popish, profane dog, more than halfe a divill, a kind of spirit." Although the dog was a white poodle they portrayed him as black in the pictures in order to associate him more closely with the devil.

Perhaps inevitably, Boy fell prey to a Roundhead bullet at the Battle of Marston Moor and proved not to be invulnerable after all. The Puritans claimed in another pamphlet "A Dog's Elegy or Rupert's Tears" that Boy had been killed by a valiant soldier who had skill in necromancy. The verse ran:

"Lament poor cavaliers, cry, howl and yelp, For the great losse of your malignant whelp." Poor Boy! In an age of superstition it is easy to see how men might attribute magic powers to such a creature and also why the enemy might use Boy as a symbol of the Royalist cause. In the same way it is easy to see how Boy was a talisman and mascot to the Royalists who mourned his loss very deeply. He went down in the army records as the first official British Army Dog which seems a fitting tribute to a loyal pet.

Maybe one of the reasons that I like Prince Rupert is that I can identify with his love of animals. Certainly my pet dog Monty seems to feature in countless of my photographs and if I had my portrait painted he would probably be in that too! If you had your portrait painted would you include a pet? If so, which would you choose and what would be their significance?

A roving...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Toast To Champagne

Andrea here, just back from the RWA Conference, where as you can see from the photos we posted last week, a good time was had by all. In fact, July has been quite a month for festivities. Corks started popping on the first of the month, as many of our Wenches were showered with fabulous accolades and honors—bestseller lists, Top Pick reviews, award nominations, to mention just a few achievements. And then we had Fourth of July and Bastille Day . . .

 Which got me to thinking about champagne. (Yes, I will admit that Wenches lifted a few toasts in Washington.)

With its tickle and sparkle, champagne is such a happy wine. It always seems to add an effervescence to any occasion and has become synonymous with celebrations. So I decided to immerse myself in its history—in moderation, of course!—and discovered some fascinating facts and fun lore.

First things first. There are many sparkling wines produced around the world. However, to be legally labeled champagne, a wine must meet three criteria: It must come from the Champagne region of France; it must be made from pinot noir, pinot meunier or chardonnay grapes grown within the region, and it must undergo two fermentations—one in the barrel, and one in the bottle. All other bubblies must be labeled “methode champenoise.”

 Champagne—the name derives from the Latin ‘campus’, or field—is located about 100 miles east of Paris and is characterized by rolling hills, chalky soil, and cool winters. Grapes have been cultivated there since Roman times, and during the Middle Ages, Pope Urban II declared the wines from the region were the best in the world, making them in much demand for religious ceremonies, as well as royal celebrations and coronations.

 As the great cathedral at Reims established the city as one of the prominent Church centers in Europe, the surrounding Benedictine monasteries became the leading winemakers in the region. For several centuries they were rivals with Burgundy for bragging rights of ’Best in France.” However, as winemaking skills grew more sophisticated, Burgundy’s climate and soil gave it an edge in making rich, complex wines. So the monks of Champagne got creative. They began experimenting with different techniques, like removing the grape skins from the juice in the early stages of fermentation. This created a lighter wine—up until this time, all wines were red.

The new style attracted much attention. Contemporary accounts waxed poetic over its nuances, giving wonderfully descriptive names to the colors. Some of my favorites include oeil de perdrix (partridge eye), couleur de miel (honey-colored), cerise (cherry pink) and fauve (tawny). These first “white” wines were particularly popular in England, due to the Marquess de Saint-Evremond, a courtier to Louis XIV who had fallen out of favor with the king. Saint-Evremond established himself as the arbiter of taste in London during the 1660s, and as he loved the wines of Champagne, they were soon all the  vogue.

There was just one problem. These new, lighter wines had a tendency to develop bubbles–which at first was viewed as a fault. (This had to do with the cool Champagne winters, which stopped the yeast from fermenting in the barrels. Once the weather turned warmer, the fermentation started again, creating carbon dioxide . . . I’m no chemistry expert, but you get the gist.) The English actually liked the sparkly taste, but the Benedictine monks were determined to get rid of the noxious bubbles.

Enter Dom Perignon, who worked very hard at refining the process of his monastery’s winemaking. His tinkerings resulted in smaller, more delicate bubbles, and lo and behold, he actually came to favor the new creation—he is credited with the famous saying, “Come quickly—I think I am drinking the stars!”  

Another problem arose when the monks tried to bottle the wines. The pressure of the bubbles tended to explode the thin glass of the bottles, or blow out the hemp stoppers that were used in France to seal the wines. A thicker bottle was developed, and cork from Spain was found to withstand the force of the natural gases. Voila! Champagne was born.

Over the years, other refinements were made to the methods of producing champagne. In the early 1800s, a woman is credited with creating an important innovation in the way champagne is made. Madame Cliquot took over the running of her late husband’s vineyards (Veuve—or widow—Cliquot is still one of the venerable champagne labels available in stores today.) Under her direction, the cellarmasters began rotating the bottles slightly every day in an effort to reduce the build-up of bubbles. This procedure, called "riddling," creates a more delicate, nuanced wine and is still done today by hand by the top champagne houses.

The House of Clicquot also developed the process called "disgorgement." This involves uncorking the wine during the second fermentation to remove the yeast sediment that has settled in the bottles (If left in the wine, it would create an unappetizing cloudy appearance.) The wine is then quickly resealed with a fresh cork before the gases can escape. As you can see, it’s a lengthy labor of love to create champagne, which explains its hefty price tag.

Now, a quick primer on the different types of champagne. A non vintage champagne, the most common type available, is made by blending wines of different years. Each champagne maker has its own “house” style, and its non vintage wines strive to have a consistent taste from year to year.

If the quality of a harvest is considered especially good during a certain year, a champagne house may declare a “vintage” year. This means that only the grapes from that year will be blended to make that bottling. As not every year yields a “vintage” year, these wines are rarer and more expensive. (So when you see a specific date on a label—for example, Vintage 2009—that is why it costs more.)

And finally, there are the prestige cuvees, which are the “superstars” of a champagne house’s line. For example, Moet & Chandon features Dom Perignon and Roederer showcases Cristal. These wines are usually made from hand-selected grapes picked in the top vineyards and coddled through a longer aging process—anywhere from five to seven years. 

  The lore surrounding champagne is just as enjoyable as the wine.  Here are a few random tidbits that caught my fancy. The coupe, or shallow, saucer-shaped champagne glass, is said to have been modeled on the exact shape of Diane de Poiters’s left breast. (Though some claim it was Madame Pompadour, Louis XV’s mistress, or Marie Antoinette.) Whatever the case, experts agree that the wine should never be drunk from a shallow glass, for the bubbles dissipate far too fast. The preferred shape is a flute, and if you own crystal, use it, for the tiny irregularities in the glass are said to prolong the sparkle.

And speaking of crystal, Cristal, the favored libation of today’s glitterati, was created in 1876 by the House of Roederer for Tsar Alexander II of Russia, who wanted a wine that the masses were not permitted to buy. He demanded a clear bottle with a flat bottom, so that an assassin could not hide a bomb in the wine. The normal indentation at the bottom of a bottle is there to help distill the pressure, so to make the bottom flat, Roederer had to commission a unique special bottle made of heavy lead crystal, which is still used today.

The rich and famous have always had a taste for champagne. Napoleon was said to be horrified by Josephine’s champagne bills. But then, who was he to talk, seeing as he is reputed to have said, “Champagne! In victory one deserves it; in defeat one needs it.” Winston Churchill, another legendary wartime leader, was also a real aficionado of the bubbly and exclaimed to his commanders, “Remember, gentlemen, it's not just France we are fighting for, it's Champagne!" And then there is Mark Twain, who quipped, "Too much of anything is bad, but too much Champagne is just right."

Which reminds me of my first real experience with champagne. When I was a junior in high school I went on a summer school program to Paris. The parents of one of my fellow students was good friends with the owner of Moet & Chandon, so we were all invited out to the town of Epernay in Champagne to tour the caves and see how the wine was made. Afterward, they treated us to a special tasting of the wine. Needless to say, we sixteen-year-olds were absolutely thrilled at having adults offer us alcohol—legally!—and it was not just a thimbleful. There we were in a historic chateau and the bubbly was flowing. And flowing. We felt very chic and sophisticated . . . and it was a bunch of VERY happy kids who managed to stumble back to the train for the return to Paris. Every time I walk through a wine store I smile when I see a bottle of Moet White Star!

 So, do you love champagne as much as I do? And do you only drink for a very special occasion, or do you ever crack open a bottle to lift your spirits and make an ordinary day a real celebration? And have you any special champagne memory to share?  To celeberate sharing with us, a winner will be chosen at random to win a copy of my book, Seduced By A Spy.

Winners, Awards, & Voting Ends Today

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

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

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

Wenches Do Washington Part III

Wenches celebrate an award-winning July!

Wenches Do Washington Part II

Mary Jo Putney graciously signs for her fans.

Nicola Cornick flew in from England for the signing.

Patricia Rice selling a fiery MYSTIC WARRIOR.

Wenches Do Washington Part I

 Checking in again, we found the photos!  As you can see, the wenches are having a good time.

Andrea Pickens smiling for the camera.

 

   Anne Gracie quips with her quill.

Jo Beverley looking especially glamorous.

News from RWA

Jo here, feeling grumpy. I don't have a Charlie pic, so here's a wattly bird of some sort who maybe suits my mood. As Pat said, Typepad wasn't kind last night. The rest of this is what I wrote last night.

I don't know what Typepad is doing, but it took forever to sign on. My main grouch is against the Marriott Wardman Park hotel for not having wi-fi in the rooms! Bad enough that they make guests pay for it, but to require cable connect is very irritating. I travel with a Mac Air, which has limited ports and I didn't bring the various cables because in over a year, and in many countries, I've never needed them. I expect wi-fi, people. I don't see why it can't be free, too. Cheaper places often have free wi-fi, so why not the pricey places. It's ridiculous.

Then there's the fact that pressing the button for housekeeping gets an answering machine, and no one ever responds to left messages.

As I said, I'm grouchy.  So, apologies for the snarking.

But things are also good. We had a fun (but noisy) signing.

 

If anyone reading this was at the literary signing, how did it go? Share some of your experiences.

 

If anyone reading this is at the conference, have you learned anything wonderful yet? It doesn't get up to full steam until Friday.

 

I'll try to pop back in and share some goodies myself.

 

Then the Wenches decompressed with wine and cheese. Then me taking a pic.

 

Best in grouchdom... Oh, dear, now I know. I should have brought Charlie with me. He'd have kept everything sweet.

Sorry for the delay and messy layout, but I am happy this all worked today

 

Jo :)

Romance Writers of America conference

This is Pat, checking in because Typepad just changed a bunch of things that's crashed Jo's post.  She really does have some cool pics from the conference to put up here, including a group photo of the International Wenches.  But we're working on East Coast time and Sherrie is on Pacific and Typepad is running its own world.   So  check in throughout the day and see what we've managed to get past Typepad!

Jo wanted to know if any our readers were at the literacy signing Wednesday night and what was your reaction to it?  I just know it was immense and noisy and if the number of books flying off the tables means anything, we should have raised a huge amount of money.

So far, the conference has been fairly laid back.  We're all enjoying the lovely weather, the wonderful restaurants, and the company. Today, the conference kicks into high gear--so watch out!

DON'T TEMPT ME: Susan Holloway Scott interviews Loretta Chase

Susan: There’s plenty that’s noteworthy about Loretta Chase’s delicious new historical romance, Don't Tempt Me.  It’s a New York Times and USA Today bestseller, and it’s received great reviews.  But review quotes and sales numbers aren’t what readers will remember about Don't Tempt Me.  It’s Lucien de Grey, Duke of Marchmont, and Zoe Octavia Lexham, a hero and heroine who sparkle with originality.  It’s the dialogue between these two--witty and poignant and so full of sexual tension that some pages may scorch your fingers.  But then that’s the magic of Loretta’s writing: one minute you’re laughing at loud, and the next ready to wipe the proverbial tear.  If you’re already a fan of Loretta’s books, then you know exactly what I mean.  If you haven’t yet read her, then the good news is that you have her entire wonderful backlist waiting for you.  Either way, you won’t want to miss Don't Tempt Me.  

But now it's time to question the author.  First, Loretta, what’s it all about?  In a nutshell.

Loretta:  Zoe Octavia Lexham, a harem captive for twelve years, risks her life to get home to England again, only to find that England’s not wild about having her back.  (Here’s English Society’s idea of a harem).  The only man who can make Society change its attitude toward her is a childhood friend, the Duke of Marchmont.  Handsome, witty, rich, and very, very fashionable, he’s also the laziest man in town and, apparently, not overly intelligent.  But he says “Nothing could be simpler” than making her respectable again, and Zoe can’t afford to be picky.  And if I say any more, it’s no longer a nutshell but an essay.

Susan:  While Don't Tempt Me is a “stand-alone” book for you, the hero and the heroine are hardly “stand-alone” characters.  Their families and friends are very much part of their lives and decisions in both good and bad ways, and yet Zoe Octavia and Lucien de Grey, Duke of Marchmont, are completely separated from their families for years at a time.  What role did you see “family” play for both characters?

Loretta:  I think family, whether dead or alive, is crucial to character development.  We don’t come out of nowhere; we come out of a context.  In this story, though, I brought the family up close and personal to the hero and heroine, partly because it’s funny and partly because it’s poignant and partly because of that separation you mentioned.  Lucien’s reacted to his experience by becoming detached from everybody.  Zoe’s the opposite:  She made a family of sorts for herself in the harem and she's determined to be part of her family when she gets back to England.  She takes desperate measures to keep from being ejected from the nest--and her refusal to let them eject her is what, eventually, brings Lucien the connection he’s missed.  Too, family interactions are a great way to demonstrate character:  People behave differently with family than they do with friends, and I loved the opportunities this story gave me to show the comic aspects of aristocrats acting like a normal family.

Susan:  In your last book Your Scandalous Ways, your heroine Francesca was a genuine, unrepentant courtesan and not simply one as a titillating plot contrivance. In Don't Tempt Me, Zoe has spent nearly half her life in an Egyptian harem, and you don’t sugar-coat that experience, either.  How did you research the life of a European woman in a harem?  How did it affect Zoe? And how did it make her uniquely ready to conquer London society?

Loretta:  I’d learned quite a bit about harems in Egypt while researching Mr. Impossible.  This book offered a chance to explore the material further.  Zoe’s harem, though, was bigger than the average Egyptian harem--which refers, basically, to the the women of a family.  But the more important the man, the bigger the harem.  I’d read that Ali Pasha of Albania had three hundred women in his harem.  Considering how small Albania was/is, this sounded like half the female population! 

This is why my model was the Sultan’s harem, of the Topkapi Palace.  With hundreds of women, and all the slaves and eunuchs, things get complicated.  I thought a smart, educated young English woman, even at twelve, could adapt and, as she matured in that world, would master its ways.  This experience makes it easy for Zoe to deal with, say, the hierarchy of English society and the hierarchy of household staff.

Too, in the harem’s hothouse atmosphere, a smart, observant girl would develop a keen understanding of human psychology.  The cultural differences are important,too.  She’s coming from a world in which people are more demonstrative.  Emotion isn’t a dirty word.  And dirty words aren’t dirty words:  In that world of women, the focus is on sex, and this is what they talk and think about.  So she walks and talks and generally behaves differently from English women.  It's comedy material, yes, but it's also an eye-opening--and arousing--experience for the men, especially her jaded duke.  (For more harem gossip, see my post at the Avon Romance Blog.)

 Susan:  The proliferation of dukes in historical romances is epidemic, and for the most part they’re often depicted as pleasure-seeking-slacker-rakes. But Lucien takes his title and responsibilities very seriously––and I have to say it earns him a solid place alongside the other great Loretta Chase heroes.  You make him suffer, yes, but he also gets over it, and gets along with his life.  Is he based on a real-life peer?

Loretta:  I stole the Duke of Norfolk’s house for him, and shoved the Duke of Richmond (descendant of Louise de Keroualle, the heroine of your latest, THE FRENCH MISTRESS) down a rung on the ladder of precedence to make room for Marchmont.  But he wasn’t based on any duke in particular.  I was thinking about what happens to a young man psychically when he’s abruptly thrust, in the most unwelcome circumstances, into a position of great responsibility.  I was thinking, “teenager--rebellion--avoidance--denial.” 

  But this is also a man strongly influenced by a father figure, Lord Lexham, who takes his public duties seriously and is a devoted family man.  That made for a conflict between the outside Marchmont--the detached nobleman who refuses to take anything seriously--and the inside Marchmont, who knows his Duty, and gets it done via his secretary. 

  As to raking, it seemed to me that a man as detached as Marchmont couldn't be the serial seducer type.  He has his 19th C equivalent of girlfriends, but it’s one at a time, for a (short, because he gets bored) time.  I wanted us to be aware, all along, of a the kernel of goodness at heart that's necessary in a proper hero--and I think the bond with family helps account for his not turning out all bitter and twisted and selfish.  I like to think the sense of humor and the wry self-awareness have grown out of interactions with the Lexham brood.

Susan:  One of the hallmarks of your books is to establish the setting as a real place, and in Don't Tempt Me you’ve again managed to make early 19th century London seem fresh and vivid.  What aspects of the era did you choose to emphasize to make this work?

Loretta:  Zoe's point of view helps revive endlessly worked-over ground.  She comes to England from another culture, and sees everything so differently.  Showing London through her eyes made it fresh.  She allowed me to delve more deeply into the old, familiar places.  In her eyes, Hyde Park and the Green Park
are wonderlands of greenery.  Everything, from the exterior of White’s Club to the claustrophobic royal Drawing Room, is unfamiliar and needs to be interpreted, and her interpretation isn’t like everyone else’s.  (The black and white drawing is of the famous Almack's Club.)

 Susan:   You’ve always been aware of how fashion and clothes make your characters behave (or not.)  The stunningly awkward hoop skirts required for formal court dress play a major part in the courtship been Lucien and Zoe –– and that’s all I’ll say so as not to give too much away. Would you share a little more about these ritualized hoops?

 Loretta:  Reading about hoops elsewhere had opened my eyes to their seductive possibilities, but then you suggested DANGEROUS LIAISONS--not the Laclos novel but a book published in connection with an exhibition at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.  The marvelous illustrations offered the sort of detail one longs for--as well as abundant inspiration.  But I think with hoops, the pictures really are worth a thousand words, so I’d direct readers to Candice Hern’s wonderful collection of prints
and I’ll point out that Cruikshank’s comical illustration strikes me as more accurate an illustration of a Drawing Room than the one below it by Rowlandson--certainly it's closer to the one I describe in Don't Tempt Me.

Susan:  You've given us three very different Fallen Women so far.  What's next?

Loretta:  Another Carsington book, featuring a woman of weak moral fiber, a man who prides himself on having no imagination, and a haunted castle in Scotland. 

Susan:  It seems that's all we're going to get out of her.  That means it's your turn, readers.  A question or comment earns you a chance to win an autographed copy of Don't Tempt Me.  And if the interview has made you curious for more background info, check Loretta's website for links to interviews and blogs.

"The French Mistress": The Interview

Wench Loretta Chase interviews Wench Susan Holloway Scott

Loretta: The French Mistress (now in bookstores!) completes Susan Holloway Scott’s beautiful trio of books about King Charles II’s most famous mistresses.  This time we enter the world of Louise de Keroualle, Duchess of Portsmouth, who walked a tightrope between two kings--Charles II and Louis IV of France--and the cultures and intrigues of their very different courts.  Louise, too, is different.  She couldn’t be less like either of her great rivals, the Countess of Castlemaine or Nell Gwyn, or less well-liked.  Yet as Susan brings her to life, Louise, the most reviled of Charles II’s mistresses, is the heroine of an amazing, compelling story.  It's a remarkable book! 

To begin, please tell us a bit about The French Mistress.

Susan:The French Mistress is based on the fascinating life of Louise de Keroualle (1649-1734.)  The daughter of provincial French nobility, Louise was a young maid-of-honor to the Duchesse d’Orleans when she caught the roving eye of the duchess’s brother, King Charles II. (Here's the full portrait of her by Sir Peter Lely that's used on the cover.)  The French king, Louis XIV, noticed Charles’s interest, and sent Louise to London as a “gift.” Once there, Louise’s duty was to become the English king’s mistress, and from his bed act as a spy/agent for France. Though hardly the respectable marriage her parents desired, Louise had no choice but to obey, and balance on this diplomatic tightrope between the two  kings, over a cast of scheming rivals and political enemies.  For the next  fourteen years, Louise succeeded beyond everyone’s expectations.  Not only did she find the love of her life in the charming Charles, but she also earned the lasting admiration of Louis as well, and she was well rewarded with riches, titles, estates, and power. In England, she was made Duchess of Portsmouth, and her son became the Duke of Richmond and Lennox (for more about him, see my earlier WordWenches blog), while in France, she was made Duchesse d'Abuginy.

LC: The three women with whom King Charles II had long relationships were so different.  Barbara Palmer, Duchess of Cleveland, bears no resemblance to actress Nell Gwyn, who couldn’t be less like Louise.  Clearly, the king truly was attracted to and sought something different from each of these women.  What in particular was it about Louise that captured and held his affection for so long?

SHS: Louise wasn’t a wanton sensualist like Barbara, nor was she as quick-witted and entertaining as the earthy Nell.  Louise was a lady and a French one at that, with an inborn style and presence that dazzled Charles (shown below, to the right.)  Even as he delighted in her plump figure and baby-faced beauty, it was her elegance and grace that he loved.  He knew she was a spy, and he didn’t care.  In many ways, Louise was his ideal, a seductively perfect companion and hostess in her exquisitely decorated rooms in the palace.  No matter how treacherous the court intrigues became around Charles, he always found solace with Louise, and, quite possibly, the tempting, forbidden solace (for the head of the Anglican Church) of her Catholic faith. 

LC: Of the three mistresses you’ve dealt with so far, I found Louise the most enigmatic.  She’s an isolated  foreigner, as the others are not.  She seemed to have much more to lose than Nell or Barbara.  Given all the secrecy and double-dealing (hers and others’), Louise’s foreignness and isolation, she must have been a most elusive subject.  What helped you develop a sense who she was?

SHS: I knew something of Louise after writing my previous two books about her rival-mistresses (Barbara Palmer in Royal Harlot and Nell Gwyn in The King’s Favorite), and though some of Nell’s witty attacks had made me feel a little sorry for Louise, it wasn’t until I’d begun researching her background in France that I developed an empathy with her. 

I hadn’t realized how Louise spent her entire life as an outsider.  As a girl, she’d had a difficult relationship with her parents, and she was too shy to make the brilliant marriage that they desired. She never quite fit in at Louis XIV’s court, and even at the height of her success as Charles’s mistress, she had virtually no true friends at the English court.  Realizing how tenuous her position could be (unlike both Barbara and Nell, who blithely seemed to assume there’d always be a tomorrow), Louise was constantly searching for security and trying to wrangle more favors, more gifts, to prepare for her future and for that of her one son. The only person whom she ever seemed fully to trust was Charles. Even so, though she loved him completely, she feared (rightly) that he didn’t return her degree of devotion.  Learning that Louise never married nor became romantically linked to any other man, remaining constant to Charles’s memory for the remainder of her long life –– she outlived Charles by fifty years! –– seems especially poignant.

LC: In The French Mistress, you took us into the French court, showing us what life was like not only for Louise but for Charles II’s sister, the Duchesse d’Orleans.  For me –– and I think for many readers –– it’s an entry into another world, and one with a decidedly dark side.  What do you think was the greatest difference between the French and English courts, and why?

SHS: The two courts were perfect mirrors of their respective kings. While Louis and Charles bore an outward similarity in appearance(they were first cousins, in the inbred way of 17th century royalty), the two men could not have been more different as rulers. Louis (shown to the left) was suspicious and wary of his subjects, and defensively made himself into an unapproachable demi-god.  He was aloof and distant in his great palace at Versailles, and his Court was wrapped in elaborate protocol and rigidly observed rituals. Every moment of the day was accounted for in exhausting detail, and he encouraged vicious rivalries and infighting among his nobles as a way of keeping them from plotting against him.  Behind the gilded facade, there was much that was dark indeed, including sadism, bisexuality, and witchcraft. There were plenty of amusements at Versailles, but very little fun.

Charles, on the other hand, was affable and approachable, and literally embraced his subjects of every rank. He enjoyed his people, and moved freely among them in London, feeding the ducks in the park beside them and attending the same public theaters and taverns for amusement as they did.  His Court was bawdy and free-wheeling, much as he was himself, and visitors were as likely to encounter actors and scientists as peers in the palace.  After the rigidity of the French Court, Louise found Whitehall shockingly informal, and she never became accustomed to the directness of Charles’s courtiers, or their often-bawdy behavior.

LC: Like your previous historical novels, The French Mistress beautifully recreates a time and place.  This can’t be done without hours and hours of research.  What part of the research for this book did you most enjoy?

SHS: My favorite part of the research for all of these books has been trying to discover the real woman who  will become my heroine.  Louise offered a few special challenges.  First, of course, was the fact that many of the original sources about her and her world were in French, and 17th century French at that.  Once she arrived in England, the research became much easier – but scarcely more sympathetic to Louise herself. Likely because of her dual-role as a French agent and a royal mistress, she seemed to have kept no diary or journal, and she was always careful of what she revealed in the letters that survive. Most of what was written about her by others was critical, snide, or downright bitchy, with no one defending her or her actions.  In sharp contrast to so much back-biting are the charming love-letters that Charles wrote to Louise, full of endearments, pet names, and concern for her health. I had to sift through all of this, sensing what felt false and what felt real, trying to “find” the Louise to be the centerpiece of my novel. (Here's another portrait of Louise, this time by the French artist Henri Gascars.)

LC: Like many other readers, I can’t wait to time travel with Susan Holloway Scott again.  What’s next?

SHS: My next heroine is already familiar to my readers with a good memory.  Catherine Sedley (1657-1717) most recently appeared in The King’s Favorite as a ten-year-old girl dancing jigs in the moonlight with Nell Gwyn.  A sixteen-year-old Catherine was also a minor character in Duchess, the wealthy heiress that John Churchill’s parents tried to make him marry.  (My novels aren’t a true series since each book is independent of the others, but certain individuals do keep popping up throughout, much as they must have done at the English Court.) Now Catherine finally will have a book of her own, and deserving she is, too.  (That's a teenaged Catherine to the left, painted by Sir Peter Lely.) The only daughter of poet and playwright Sir Charles Sedley, one of the wildest of Charles II’s courtiers, Catherine grew up into a pretty wild lady in her own right.  She was considered shamefully plain by her contemporaries, but she was blessed with a brilliant wit and sense of humor to compensate for her lack of beauty.  She was also rich and well-connected, which made her much-sought-after as a wife, yet she refused to marry and let any man take control of her life.  Instead she insisted on scandalous independence, becoming mistress to a king because it amused her, wife (at 39!) to a general because she loved him, and a countess in her own right.  Look for Catherine’s adventurous life next summer in The Countess and the King.

Thank you, Susan! For more about Susan's books and to read an excerpt from The French Mistress, visit her website at: www.susanhollowayscott.com.  

We're givng away a copy of The French Mistress to a reader who posts a reply to this blog.  Ask a question, make a comment, or simply say you'd like to be entered, and you're in.  The winner will be announced next Sunday, July 19. Good luck!

INTERVIEWS, BOOK TRAILERS, AND AWARDS

Today we have lots of news and announcements, so you might want to go pour yourself a cup of coffee or tea before you start reading.  We have news about upcoming interviews, book trailers, and bestseller lists.

INTERVIEWS:
7/13 and 7/15 - Loretta Chase and Susan Holloway Scott do back-to-back interviews in conjunction with the release of Don't Tempt Me (Loretta) and The French Mistress (Susan).

7/27 - Mary Jo interviews Regency author Janet Mullany

BOOK TRAILER:
Mary Jo has two video links for Loving a Lost Lord on her Web site.  The music is original, composed specifically for the videos.  Here are the links:
 
http://maryjoputney.com/lallmovie3.htm  (1 minute version)
 
http://maryjoputney.com/lallmovie.htm  (30 second cable ad with voiceover)

AWARDS/RECOGNITION:

Wenches take over Bookscan!  Loretta’s Don't Tempt Me debuted at #19 on the Bookscan list.  Mary Jo's Loving a Lost Lord hit Bookscan at #28, and Nicola's The Scandals of an Innocent hit the list at #42!

The first week out, Mary Jo's Loving a Lost Lord was #35 on the New York Times extended list and Loretta's Don't Tempt Me was #25.  Don't Tempt Me was also #47 on the USA Today list and Loving a Lost Lord was #107.

Congratulations, Wenches!

Character Dressing

Pat here:

I am a Leo, and I adore clothes for many reasons. How many of you use what you’re wearing as a costume to hide behind or to convey your current mood?   When I pack a suitcase, I have to carry various mix-and-match options, not because I need the extra clothing, but because I may not be in the right humor to wear the all-white dressy outfit. I may want to strike out with something red. I’ve learned to carry an assortment of wardrobe pieces and accessories just so I’ll be comfortable with the environment as well as my frame of mind. (If you go to the RWA literacy signing, guess my mood from what I’m wearing. <G>)

I like to dress the characters in my books similarly.  With the contemporaries, that was easy.  If my heroine was wearing spike-heeled, knee-high boots, watch out!  If she was wearing sloppy shorts and T-shirt with chocolate stains down the front, I might be conveying the same mood—PMS with an attitude—but with a different type of character.

In historicals, dressing my characters for personality and mood is a little tougher because the variety of clothing is limited to some degree. (Anyone else design clothes for Barbies and paper dolls? I even created historical clothing for a school project!)  Sure, a governess can be dressed in dowdy woolens while an heiress can be wearing handmade, imported lace, but that merely reflects social status.  I might have them wear simple designs instead of ruffled, but that only indicates good taste or body type, not character or mood. 

In MYSTIC WARRIOR, I had the option to play more with costume because my heroine lives on an island where everyone wears simple tunics and sandals-- no modistes and no fancy fabrics in a country where one walks mountains and beaches. So when I have her land in late eighteenth-century France, where fashion went from one extreme to the other, I had lots of leeway to assert her character.  Of course she complained about petticoats and corsets and high-heeled shoes and the results when she trailed them through the running sewer of primitive streets.  As time goes on and she learns more of the culture, she gradually progresses to adopting her clothing to suit herself, not completely understanding the differences between rural and city styles but knowing what made her comfortable. That she’s unaware of the provocative differences in these outfits that she designs for practical purposes gives some evidence of her essential nature. I don't think she'd ever understand fashionable fans!

In reality, people of that time period—unless they were royalty—had limited attire.  Yes, women of a certain status had round gowns to wear about the house in the morning, and a walking gown for running errands, and an evening gown for dinner, but they did not have entire closets from which to choose.  In most cases, they didn’t have closets but a small wardrobe that held all their gowns and undergarments.  An expensive evening dress, or a favorite walking gown, might be adapted from one year to the next by lowering waistlines or adding ruffles, but clothing was far too expensive to buy as frequently as our heroines do in historical romance.

 So how did Regency women express their characters and moods when limited to which color ribbon to wear with their white muslins?  That’s my challenge as I return to Regency England for my next book. I suppose not all my heroines are Leos with a flare for fancy dress, but still, I’d like them to choose clothes that express their inner selves. Although I don’t think my dowdy spinster in the first book will be damping her linens anytime soon!

In Transition

Someone asked me today what I did over the weekend -- and for the first time in a long time I was able to say something other than "I worked on my book" -- because my book, gasp, is finished! I sent the final manuscript of Queen Hereafter: A Novel of Margaret of Scotland to my editor at Crown last week. For several days I've been sort of knocking about the place not sure what to do with myself. After being chained to the keyboard for so long, freedom feels utterly strange. I come out of the office blinking in the light like a night creature at dawn.

Which I am, in book-ending phase. Not necessarily a vampire - ugh - but definitely an owl. The best writing for me begins at sundown and beyond. Before that magic hour, I'm a hack. I'm an editor, a revisor. When the sun goes down and darkness approaches, the words start cascading through. Can't explain it, can't change it, I'm just hardwired that way. No matter how much I like the idea of being a lark - how nice to get up with the sun and be creative! how lovely to sit with my cup of hot tea on the deck and contemplate my story! -- nah. It's never gonna happen. My brain likes to contemplate stories in darkness and starlight and the soft quiet of the night better than the chattery freshness of dawn. The world is sleeping, and I can think. Even in a household of college age guys who, when they are here, may be up at all hours, I still write better at night. My guys and their friends are used to seeing the mom walking around at 3:00 a.m., still working on her book.

For me, as for most writers I know, the process of finishing a book is an intense experience, and we emerge from that deadline cave wiped out in one sense, newborn and fragile in another. For the last-phase writing, total immersion, total focus, works for me - abandoning all but the most essential elements of life -- I don't cook (my guys are on their own, and if they pick up a pizza or make a late night run for Chinese, they know to get something for me too), I don't clean, I don't do laundry, I sleep at odd hours, I don't talk on the phone, I avoid e-mail (although this proves a mighty temptation). I wear the same thing for days (within reason!). This time I kept choosing comfy black things despite sunlight and great summer weather outside -- I wasn't going out there anyway. Later, later for sunshine and flowers and fresh air. Book, book, book. And I wore flip-flops constantly, but then I usually do whenever I can get away with it. (Let's hear it for Teva!)

So it takes crazy hours, bohemian habits, a somewhat OCD focus, but I finish a book in a way that suits me best--writing off the top of my head, no notes, no outline, winging it through the last third, sometimes half of a book. It takes a lot of stamina on my part, and a lot of patience on the part of my family and friends. And off the book goes to the editor, after a last minute polishing. And somehow that stuff often turns out to be some of the best writing in the book, solid and clean and less in need of editing than earlier parts of the book. Go figure, and I wish I could do that all the way through. The process would go a lot faster.

Now, after a few days sans book, I've transitioned from stupor to freedom. I've cleaned my house, done the grocery shopping, talked to the family ... I've watched TV and movies, I've talked on the phone and caught up with people, I've started reading books, lovely lovely stacks of books .... and I'm already thinking about the next book I want to write and the next after that, and onward. 

Soon I'll see the manuscript again for revisions and it will be me and the computer and the keyboard, the comfy clothes and the night hours again, but for now, I'm back to something like normal and rediscovering the world after what feels like a long time away. I wasn't here completely -- I was in 11th century Scotland with Margaret and Malcolm. And I must be recovering from the ending phase of writing the book -- because I'm starting to look forward to the editor's comments and the revisions, so that I can immerse myself in that world again.

If you're curious about what I've been up to for the past several many many months... Click here to read an excerpted chapter from QUEEN HEREAFTER: A Novel of Margaret of Scotland, which will be released in hardcover from Crown/Random House in 2010.

Most creative efforts have distinct phases in common, whether it's a novel, a painting, something we've knitted, crocheted, sewn, glued, woven, and so on ... what creative stuff do you particularly love to do, and do you go through a crazy intense finishing stage too?

...And now that it's summer, how many of us are slap-slapping around in flip flops? 

Susan Sarah, sooooooo glad to be able to say I Finished My Book!  :)

Amnesia for Beginners

by Mary Jo

As I mentioned in my Shameless Promotion blog for Loving a Lost Lord, I adore amnesia as a plot device, and have written three amnesia books.  Nor am I alone—there are plenty of other books and movies that also use amnesia, and a good time is had by all.

But my researcher’s conscience has occasional twinges about using a serious brain condition for fell plotting purposes.  When Susan Fraser King’s son, Dr. Josh, made one of his visits to Word Wenches to answer medical questions, I asked him about amnesia in fiction.  He said basically that the human brain is so complicated that almost anything is possible, which made me feel better.  That supported the information in a book I’d read some years ago which recorded fascinating amnesia cases.

But today, I’m exploring the subject a little more deeply.  For starters, there are two kinds of amnesia: organic and functional.  Organic amnesia is a result of brain damage from trauma or perhaps drugs, while functional amnesia is a result of psychological factors.

Traumatic amnesia is the one that is used most often in fiction—a character has been bonked in the head and loses his or her memory.  There is basis for this in fact—even a car accident with no more than minor whiplash might cause a person to lose memories of the moments before the accident because the impact disrupts the neural mechanism that transfers data from short term to long term memory.

The more serious the injury, the longer the period of amnesia may last, but realistically, that also means more serious brain damage—the kind that would require physical therapy in the real world.  In television world, a second bop on the head often brings memories flooding back, where in fact, repeated concussions can cause long term brain damage and loss of cognitive abilities. 

Think of boxers who have taken too many hits to the head.  Think of all those mystery books where a character is temporarily knocked out with a blow to the head and wakes up with no more than a headache.  And think also of the tragic case of Natasha Richardson, who recently died of what had seemed like a minor fall while learning to ski. Brain damage is serious business.

Functional amnesia is psychological in origin and can be the brain’s defense mechanism against unbearable events.  Repressed memory syndrome is a popular literary device, often used when a woman has suppressed memories of childhood sexual abuse. 

There was a brief craze for this in the real world in the ‘90s, with many accusations.  It was a messy business.  Some earnest psychologists who wanted to ‘find the truth’ ended up accidentally inducing false memories of abuse because the mind is incredibly suggestible.  I once watched a PBS show on the subject—it was painful and tragic.  Even if a “memory” is falsely induced, it can cause very real pain.

I rather fancy the fugue state, also called dissociative amnesia.  It’s pretty rare, but is a loss of all memories related to personal identity.  It’s often associated with stress and wandering off somewhere, possibly even creating a new identity in another place.  When memories are recovered, the person forgets everything that happened during the fugue state. 

Fugue states are particularly useful, fictionally speaking.  A character suffers some sort of horrible trauma, blanks out on who she is, and turns up somewhere else as a blank slate. This is the underlying pattern of the “a mysterious person arrives and danger follows” plotline, which is probably the most common form of amnesia story.  Someone sees a horrific murder, flees from a murderer in panic, and suffers dissociative amnesia.

Since my characters are so often traumatized <G>, I figure they suffer from a physical blow and the underlying stress helps push them into forgetting who they are.  My first two amnesia books, Carousel of Hearts and Uncommon Vows, actually had characters who were injured and developed amnesia when surrounded by people they knew—and since the victims no longer remembered what other people expected of them, different parts of their personalities emerged. 

My current release, Loving a Lost Lord, is the more traditional “attractive amnesiac appears and is found by equally attractive person of opposite sex” plot, but isn’t a thriller, though there’s a modest suspense subplot.  To me, it made sense that Adam didn’t get all his memories back in a rush, but rather they arrive in chunks of related material until gradually the full mosaic of his life emerges.  By the end, he thinks he remembers pretty much everything except the actual explosion and just before—which relates to physical trauma preventing experience from going into permanent memory.

Of course there are tons of amnesia stories, and they play on different kinds of amnesia.  Regarding Henry features an unpleasant Harrison Ford who is shot in the head during a robbery, and does a sobering job of showing that head injuries cause really horrific problems.  Henry has to go through extensive therapy to function at all, and by the end he has had to give up his career as a Manhattan shark lawyer, but has built a much different and healthier relationship with his wife and daughter.

Alfred Hitchcock’s Spellbound is a famous amnesia story from 1945 and heavily psychoanalytic in ways that might not entirely hold water today, but it’s a jolly story with Gregory Peck and Ingrid Bergman, so what’s not to like? <G>

The Bourne Identity is a novel by Robert Ludlum and was made into the first of a series of successful movies.  Matt Damon plays the amnesiac Jason Bourne, who is rescued by Italian fishermen while drifting in the Mediterranean, and who finds that he has a really alarming set of skills. <G>

I believe the reviews panned 2001 movie The Majestic, but I quite liked it.  Set during the Communist witch hunts of the 1950s, it features Jim Carrey as a Hollywood screenwriter whose career and life are destroyed because he went to a Communist meeting once to impress a girl.  He drives north out of Los Angeles, has an accident, and ends up being embraced by a whole town as the long lost war hero son they would like him to be.  

My favorite amnesia movie is Dead Again, made by Kenneth Branaugh in 1991 when he was still married to Emma Thompson.  I recently bought the DVD and watched it again, and it still held up well.  It also deals with reincarnation and has a good romance, and lots of suspense.  (With a happy ending, of course, or I wouldn't have liked it.)

Do you have any amnesia movies you’re particularly fond of?  Or books you’ve loved? Or is it a plot device you’d just as soon forget? <G>

Mary Jo

Wild harvests...

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

Nutting, by William Wordsworth

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Body Art!

Hello, Nicola here. Today I’m talking about body art, specifically tattoos! This isn’t meant in any way to be a comprehensive history of the art of the tattoo, more an explanation of how I became interested in the subject after a tattoo slipped unexpectedly into my most recent book…

I say that the idea slipped in there unexpectedly because I genuinely don’t know why I decided to give my heroine a tattoo. I don’t even know where the idea came from. At this point I have to come out and admit that I’m not a great fan of body art personally – I’m too squeamish for one thing - but that I hugely admire the creativity of some people who choose to decorate themselves this way.  And of course giving the heroine of a Regency book a tattoo is pretty controversial and I’m braced for some comments. It would have been easier to tattoo the hero, especially if he was in the British Navy. But a heroine? How could that possibly be historically accurate? Well…

 

The art of the tattoo has a long history, of course. It’s thought to date back at least 5000 years. The word tattoo itself is said to derive from the Polynesian word ‘ta’ which means striking something and the Tahitian word ‘tatau’ which means ‘to mark something’. In Europe it was the Celts who brought with them to Britain the widespread use of body art, painting themselves with woad in patterns of spirals, knots and braids to symbolise the interconnectedness of life.  Research by Newcastle University also shows that Roman soldiers on Hadrian’s Wall had a military tattoo. Written evidence for the practice comes from the Epitome of Military Science, written around the 4th century AD by the Roman chronicler Vegetius. He recounted that recruits to the Roman legions would have to earn their tattoo once they had been tested by physical exercises. A written record from the 10^th century traveller Ahmad Ibn Fadlan records a meeting with Viking traders in which they are described as being tattooed from "fingernails to neck" with dark blue or dark green "tree patterns" and other "figures."

Despite these early references, tattoos have left little trace (pardon the pun) in the subsequent written record and it is not until the eighteenth century that I could find further references to them in European culture. It was the voyages of Captain Cook and other explorers to Polynesia that re-introduced tattooing into the European  cultural consciousness. Not only did these explorers return home with tattooed Polynesians to exhibit at fairs, lecture halls and in museums but it also became a tradition in the British Navy for sailors to have tattoos. By the middle of the eighteenth century many British ports had a professional tattoo artist in residence. An anchor designed showed that a sailor had crossed the Atlantic, an image of a fully rigged ship meant that he had sailed around Cape Horn and a shell-backed turtle that he had crossed the Equator.

During the Georgian and Regency period it was the travelling fairs and circuses that promoted the popularity of tattooing. Astley’s Ampitheatre and The Royal Circus and Equestrian Philharmonic Academy were two of the London circuses that featured acrobats, rope-dancers, jugglers, sword-swallowers and clowns as well as equestrian displays. During the nineteenth century it became the norm for every major circus to employ several tattooed people. Some were displayed in sideshows and others were performers. But it was mainly via the local fairs that body art spread to the mass of the working classes.

Enter Alice Lister, the heroine of my second trilogy book, The Scandals  of an Innocent. Alice may be an heiress but she is a former housemaid whose eccentric and lonely employer left her a fortune. Alice belonged to a class for whom the fair was a treat from the drudgery of normal life: “the delight of apprentices, the abomination of their masters – the solace of maid servants, the dread of their mistresses – the encouragement of thieves…” The fair was a rough place after dark. It attracted “the light-fingered gentry” as one newspaper from the nineteenth century put it. It was dark and dangerous and raffish with its exhibition of dwarves and giants, its amateur boxing ring and drinking booths. A respectable woman would be unlikely to venture there and if she did it (as the character of Jane Austen did in the recent film Becoming Jane) then it would be with a heavy male escort. Alice, in contrast, goes with a gaggle of other maidservants on their night off. She sees the sideshows, the giants and freaks and dwarves, some with their tattoos. She drinks mead, sweet with honey, and then, encouraged by her giggling friends she is tempted into the tattooist’s tent where the old woman tells her a tattoo won’t hurt much and her lover will like it. Alice is naïve and thinks the picture will eventually wash off. But two years later when she is by fortune if not by birth a lady of quality, the tattoo is something scandalous and shocking. In the immortal words of the Duchess of Cole on hearing the scandalous rumour: “My dear Miss Lister, tattoos are for circus freaks and sailors…” Poor Alice! Already struggling to adjust to life in a different level of society, she knows that the possession of a tattoo literally marks her as a woman who is unsuitable to be a marchioness.

  This association of the tattoo with the working classes is interesting. Some social reformers associated tattoos with deviance and criminality and asserted that the only females to have tattoos were prostitutes. However the practice was far more widespread than that amongst the lower classes. The wives of sailors were amongst the  first women to be tattooed and in the mid-nineteenth century Princess Marie of Denmark had a tattoo of an anchor in order to show that she too was the wife of a sailor. In the middle to late nineteenth century tattoos became acceptable in the upper classes when the Prince of Wales, later King Edward VIII, had a tattoo of a Jerusalem cross on his arm. In 1882 his son, the future King George V, had a tattoo of a dragon. Society ladies also picked up on this fashion with the Marchioness of Londonderry sporting the tattoo of a snake on her wrist. Tattoos became more socially acceptable because they were visibly sported by people who were themselves socially accepted.

 

My question is: if you were to have a historical tattoo, what would it be? A Tudor rose? A Celtic knot? I'm offering a copy of my July release, The Scandals of an Innocent, for the most creative suggestion!