Word Wenches

The Bestest Time Evah

 

Pat's cool vacation

Vacations, vacations, wonderful vacations.
It's summer time (up here in the northern hemisphere) and folks are travelling.

So I asked the Word Wenches, What do you remember as a really great vacation?

 

Pat remembers one totally-for-fun expedition.

From Pat:

Our vacations are often working vacations, or combining two purposes like family and travel, and after a while, they all tend to blend together a bit. So perhaps I’m most nostalgic about a trip IT Guy and I made alone, just for the fun of it, shortly after he retired. We finally had the freedom to leave at any time of the year we liked—no job, no kids with school, no social or business obligations.

We were a bit uncertain about our newly limited budget, so we didn’t want to do any big splurges, but we had one place we’d dreamed of for decades—the Albuquerque Balloon Fiesta.

Yes, we’d traveled that direction once before, while writing California Girl  about a Route 66 trip. At the time, we could only admire the gorgeous balloons floating across the sky as we drove through. They were magical and all too brief. So this time, we made the trip just for the festival. I wasn’t writing a book about it. No research was involved, just pure enjoyment. We went with a tour so we didn’t have to worry about finding the best rooms or parking or any other hassle.

And it truly was the most magical trip I can remember. We saw the balloon glow and the dawn patrol and watched the race from our room when we left the grounds. We sat back and embraced the beauty of the countryside and the mystical blue skies.

And I even sneaked in a visit to a special tea room to meet with an author friend of mine and catch up. All in all, a very memorable trip!

Andrea is one of several Wenches who get their wilderness on.

Andrea: There are so many vacations filled with special memories—from the sublime to the absurd—so it’s impossible to pick a favorite. Spending time with family and friends, exploring history, just chilling out . . . each has its own unique and wonderful vibe.

 But that said, a backpacking trip with my two brothers to Wind River range in

Andrea, intrepid mountain hiker

Wyoming not long after I had graduated from college and started working in New York stands out as one of the ones on the “keeper” shelf.

As happens when the rhythm of going off to school and college begins, it had been a long time since the three of us had been together in the same place for more than a day or two at holidays. My younger brother had recently moved to Wyoming to work for a mining company. He loves the outdoors—as do I and my older brother. So when Big Brother suggested we pack our knapsacks and do a fishing trip with Little Brother up in the alpine lakes, I was all in.

 

Hiking through THIS country

 So off we went, hiking in 16 miles up to Island Lake, a remote spot at 11,000 ft (the last few miles are a real huff and puff when you’re carrying 60 lb on your back!) Oh, but was it worth it. We were camped on the water’s edge, surrounded by a semi-circle of peaks called Cirque of Towers. In the late afternoon sunset, the towering majesty of the stone alight in pink and gold was breathtakingly beautiful. We also hiked  one day up to the top of highest peak in the continental U.S. at 13,000 ft. Again, unbelievable views.

 But the truly special moments were sitting around the campfire each night, really having a chance to connect and talk the journeys we had been on so far. We were up there for a week—one rarely takes that sort of quiet time with people who matter in our lives, and that sense of renewing bonds and shared experiences still resonates with me.

I did mention fishing, right? So I have to add an anecdote. Both brothers are serious fishermen, and take pride in their flyfishing skills. Off they went each afternoon, after casting pitying looks at moi, their novice sister. One day, they laughingly left me an old rod with a hook baited with a worm, and told me to have fun, ha, ha, ha. So of course I throw the line in after they left . . . and promptly reeled in a 24” lake trout! I wish there had been cellphone cameras back then. The looks on their faces when they saw my monster were priceless. (Need I say, their fish were mere minnows in comparison!) I still tease them about that to this day!

 

Nicola's favourite holidays are very Scottish:

 

Scotland. A house by the beach

Nicola: It’s wet and windy here in the UK at the moment so there’s no better time to revisit one of my favourite holidays which was also wet and windy! Yes, it was last year on the very northernmost coast of Scotland. I’ve been on many amazing trips, some even to hot places (!) but in the end I just keep going back up north!

The first great thing about it was that we were staying in a cottage that was literally on a beach. Now I live as far from the sea as it is possible to get in the UK so going to the seaside is always a huge treat for me – and Angus as well of course. To fall asleep to the sound of the waves and to get up, open the door and be out in the dunes was totally amazing for us.

... both of them dressed for the weather

The area is rich in history, from the Viking settlement at SmooCaves along the coast to the ancient graveyard just across the sands with its tiny ruined church and many legends. Next to us was the Castle of Durinas, built in the 18^th century on the site of a medieval palace. The castle, like our little cottage, was available to rent for holidays and fortunately it was vacant that week. I played the “I’m a historical author and I’d love to look round” card, which I don’t do very often but I simply had to see inside… I got the full tour with local guide Duncan and his adorable dog. Together we explored the ancient passageways and they told me stories of ghosts and pirates which, of course, will one day make their way into a book. If you’d like to go and stay there, the link is here!

The final icing on the cake, as it were, was that just down the road was a craft village where I spent plenty of time browsing the workshops, and on the site there was also one of the best cafes in the north of Scotland that served hot chocolate that could make even the coldest, rainiest day less driech!

Panda in a suitcase.
Have cat, will travel

Mary Jo brings us her great vacation and a cat picture.
Any vacation is better with a cat picture so I'll show that first.

Oh, Jo, how can you be so cruel as to ask about a favorite vacation?  I've loved them all, and you can see that both The Panda and I are always ready for a new adventure.

arched niches in the walls

I haven't blogged about my trip to Greece before since it was pre-Wenches, but it was a great chick trip with me, my sister, and our former sister-in-law, whom we like so much that we kept her.  <G>  We spent several days in Athens in the Plaka, the historic area of the city, and had an amazing view of the Parthenon from our

Santorini

windows.  Then on to Santorini, the Greek island I've most wanted to see, and it was amazing. 

I could drown you in pictures, but I'll go with just this iconic one that shows the rugged volcanic bones of the island and part of the caldera, which is the circular sea left when the volcano blew the island into component parts. There is also the dazzling white and blue colors that say "Greece," and also make up the Greek flag.  Sigh. I want to go back.

 

Once upon a time, Anne took her first expeditions a writer.

Cats of Rhodos

Anne here. 

I can never pick any "favorite", whether it's a book or a vacation or a piece of music.  Looking back it feels as though much of my childhood consisted of holidays — we camped in tents when I was small — in fact, my mother left Dad and my three older siblings in the tent when she went off to give birth to me in hospital. They were camping at the beach near my grandparents' home. Travelling was something my family did constantly. As a child I travelled all over the UK, Ireland and parts of Europe with a caravan, and once I grew up, I went off with friends and tramped the bush and hitch-hiked around Tasmania and New Zealand. Whenever I could I headed off on holiday.

 

But Jo, when she passed this question to the wenches, added "..

Anne's foot in Connemara
(see it, bottom left)

. special points if a vacation inspired your writing." 

And that decided me, because there was one year when I went off travelling around the world on my own, for the better part of a year. We have this wonderful thing in Australia called Long Service Leave, and after you've worked for an employer for 10 years, you are entitled to time off on full pay.

So I took my long service leave, and added leave without pay to it, and went off with my backpack to explore the world.  

 

Penllyn in Wales

I was a bit nervous at first, but it turned out travelling solo, you meet all sorts of wonderful people that you probably wouldn't if you were with someone else. It also gave me time to think and ponder — a luxury that had been in short supply in my working life. And stories began to spin in my mind. Then, when I was in countries where I didn't speak the language, and didn't feel comfortable going out in the evening for anything other than dinner, I started to write in the evening. I sat on beaches in Brittany and wrote, I sat on Greek islands and wrote, I sat in grubby stations and wrote. The ideas came thick and fast and I loved it.

 

I came home at the end of that year with several A4 notebooks full of stories and ideas, and the firm intention of becoming a writer. And that, dear readers, is how a vacation inspired me to become a writer.

 

 

And back to Joanna again.

I have always admired the adventurous Australians one meets, hiking about in the far corners of the globe.

I hadn't realized they were taking writerly notes.

 

As for me:
I have lived a lifetime of vacations. So much travel, all of it wonderful and interesting. I am so lucky.

Picking one vacation more or less at random . . .
In the summers when I was young, my father used to take us to Maine to go fishing.

 

I am not the first of us to talk about fishing.

 

Yer typical Maine lake, but without a boat

Now, for me, fishing consists of sitting in a boat with a line dunked in the middle of a lake, admiring the scenery and thinking deep thoughts. Every once in a while you actually catch something, which is gratifying and leaves you with a lifelong disdain for any fish that isn't in the pan pretty much as soon as you dock on dry ground.

Catching fish makes you feel very clever.

I knew an actual Maine Guide and asked him how one survived when lost for long periods of time in the wilderness

and he said to forget about chasing down deer or hitting a rabbit over the head with a rock.

Carry fishhooks and eat fish.

But I digress.

A Maine stream of the type I do not catch fish in

There are other types of fishing that involve going out on the sea and being sick the whole time. Or you can hike through the bushes and trip over rocks and eventually get to a stream where you do this thing with throwing your hook upstream to entice fish but mostly it gets tangled in a tree.
Not my fish shtick, as it were.

 

The Carnegie library in Calais Maine because one cannot fish all the time

The lakes remain with me. Vivid hours with my father and a sister or two, listening to the woods, feeling the wind. Silence and bird calls everywhere around.
It just doesn't get any better than that.

 

 

And you? What's your great vacation? Where did you go and what do you remember? 

Anniversary Winners

Here are the winners of the Wench 13th Anniversary #giveaway.

 

Each wench will contact her winner individually to obtain a posting address.

 

Thanks so much to everyone who left good wishes and participated in the discussion and the competition. Thanks also to all those who've followed us in the past. We hope you'll all continue with us on into the future. 

 

Wenchly readers are the BEST!

 

Andrea's winner:  Vicki W.

Mary Jo's winners: Molly M. and Ghazal M.

Pat's winner: Pat--Annette N.

Susan's winner: Nancy M.

Jo's winner: Kareni

Nicola's winner:  Lucia 

Susanna's winner:  Margot

Anne's winners: Theo and Shelley

 

(The flowers are mostly Australian native flowers, arranged by Swallows Nest Farm in Tasmania. Photo used with permission)

Roses Around The Door

Nicola here. Today I’m looking at roses, literally out of my study window and also as a historical symbol. It’s that time of the year in the UK when the rose is in full bloom. It’s a sign of summer and the sight of roses growing around a cottage door (or window) is one of the quintessential images of an English country village.

The rose is also a symbol of a lot of other things: A red rose is for romance, of course, whilst innocence or purity is symbolized by the white rose, friendship with yellow roses and passion with orange.  I’m currently writing a book set in the 15^th century during the period known now as “The Wars of the Roses” although this term wasn’t coined until the 19^th century. The red and white roses were of course said to be the rival emblems of the aristocratic houses of York and Lancaster. In Shakespeare's play Henry VI rival nobles plucked them from bushes in the Temple Gardens, as depicted in this painting by Henry Payne. The different roses are the perfect embodiment of the antagonism each side had for the other, with the thorns and the red for the blood spilled in the conflict.

From Paris with Love!

Nicola here, fresh back from Paris and the amazing Festival du Roman Feminin, Festival of Women’s Fiction. The festival is an annual event for readers and authors, and when I was invited I was thrilled; the combination of books and Paris was, of course, irresistible! I’m so glad I went. It was an opportunity to meet new-to-me authors as well as old friends, and also to have time to chat properly with readers in a relaxed way (chatting in Franglais and with the help of some awesome interpreters!)

Thursday morning found me at St Pancras Station in London all ready to board the Eurostar to Paris. It was a fast, smooth and
comfortable trip, delivering me to the Gard Du Nord whilst I was still wondering at how quick and easy it all was! The taxi ride through Paris to the hotel reminded me of how mad French traffic can be but also gave the opportunity for a whistle-stop sight-seeing tour of the city from Sacré Coeur to the Louvre, with the river Seine shining in the sun. (The photo is from the same bridge of the river at night and it's from Wikipedia.)

It's our Wenchiversary!

By Mary Jo and the rest of the Wenchly Crew

Has it really been thirteen years since we cautiously launched the Word Wenches blog? Indeed yes, and so much has changed in the world, in publishing, and in us. We've lost beloved Wench sisters Edith Layton and Jo Beverley, entered into new genres and new forms of publishing, and we've expanded to having Wenches from Australia, Canada, the UK, and the US so we can truly say that the sun never sets on the Wench Empire!

Here is the very first Word Wench blog post, also written by me. (I thought I was better at not volunteering!) Here is also a link for the first month of blogs, as we felt our way into this new enterprise and learned how to use the blog site's tools.

And we're still here, musing three times a week on books, history, travel, and other intriguing topics. Blogging is work even if we each only write one about every two weeks. When on deadline, there can be a mad scramble to swap dates, whip off something very quickly, or republish an older post. But we've kept blogging all these years because, basically, we like doing this.

We like connecting with our readers. We like being able to do quick, low stakes riffs on things that catch our attention. We LOVE telling readers about our new books, or new authors we've discovered.

For our first anniversary, we did a three part series on Getting Naked With the Wenches, and very popular it was! Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

 

Ask A Wench - Men in Boots, and other favorite historical clothing!

Nicola here, introducing this month’s Ask A Wench feature. Recently on my Facebook page I’ve started to post an item called Saturday Swagger, sharing some of the gorgeous historical portraits I’ve seen and love. One of them was this 17th century miniature of Sir Edward Herbert reclining in a come-hither pose. When she saw it, fellow author and Word Wench friend Sophie Weston of the Liberta Blog  commented: “The Boots! The Boots!” Happily, this set us all thinking about those aspects of historical costume that we particularly enjoy, and the result is this blog piece in which we ask: “What is your favourite item of historical clothing, to wear, to make or simply to appreciate?” So here are the Wenches' thoughts on this topic of sartorial splendour and we would love to hear yours!

What We're Reading: April Edition

by Mary Jo

We Word Wenches love doing these posts because we always find new authors to try! 

Starting off with Pat Rice:

One Plus One by  JoJo Moyes  I love the way romance has expanded into women’s fiction, and One Plus One by JoJo Moyes is a masterful example of how it’s done. It’s clear from the very first that we have a conflicted hero and heroine. Ed is owner of a software company about to go mega-huge. Jess is his housekeeper—and he doesn’t even know she exists because she cleans his vacation home, and he never takes vacations.

But this is not the usual meet cute or billionaire-sweeps-heroine-off-her-feet. They both come with so much baggage that it takes most of the book to unload it, with bits exploding along the way—in suitably dramatic fashion. She comes with a math genius daughter and a goth teenager who isn’t even hers, plus a giant slobbery dog. He has a dying father, a screaming sister, a girlfriend he tried to get rid of by handing off insider stock info, and an ex-wife who helps herself to his bank account whenever she likes.

 

In Praise of Special Libraries

When I’m travelling within the UK I tend to look for somewhere historical en-route to break my journey, whether it’s a castle or stately home or ruin or some other interesting place. If there is a tea room and gift shop that’s a bonus. So when I was driving from the east coast of Scotland back to Glasgow a couple of weeks ago I got out the map to help me decide where to stop. The whole area is absolutely packed with castles so it was more a case of trying to whittle it down than find somewhere. Then I spotted an intriguing dot on the map at Innerpeffray, near Crieff in Perthshire. “Historic Library” it said. Well, that was enough to lure me in.

It was a bit of a bleak day when we reached Innerpeffray. The wind was whistling across the fields and the little collection of buildings we approached felt
as though they were all alone in the middle of nowhere. It seemed a curious location for a historic library but that just added to the interest. We scurried inside out of the wind and were met with the warmest welcome in Scotland. What can I say – a personal tour of the oldest free public lending library in Scotland is like my idea of heaven and Innerpeffray is a very special place indeed.

Of Beaches and Castles

Nicola here and today I’m talking about beaches – and history. You may already have noticed that the Wenches love a good trip to the sea, whether it’s a Caribbean island or the Antarctic or the Northern shores of Scotland. There’s something about the water and a stretch of golden sand that is refreshing and inspiring, even if you’re wearing several layers of thermals to appreciate it, as I was last week!

My beach odyssey started in Bamburgh in Northumberland, on the North East coast of England. It’s a favourite spot of mine and the setting for a story I’ll be writing a little way down the line. The whole area is chock full of history from pre-Roman times through the centuries, plus it has castles by the score and at Bamburgh there is the big mama of them all.

What We're Reading in March

 ... and what a medley it is.

Joanna here, with some lovely book suggestions from all of us.

I’m rereading one of Lois MlcMaster Bujold’s books. The Curse of Chalion. I picked it up at the library because the librarian had it out on the Recommended Shelf and I was reminded of it. 

When we reread books we sometimes come at them a little differently or, at least, I do. This time, when I approached Bujold’s broken, exhausted, emotionally and psychically destroyed protagonist I was better able to see the honorable man beneath. It’s a new way for me to look at heroism and I’m hoping to learn from it.

This is not a Romance, but it’s a satisfying portrayal of a complex protagonist and — yes — a bit of a love story.

 

Andrea writes:

I’m a big fan of Charles Finch’s historical mysteries—I find his Charles Lenox series, set in early Victorian England, an absolute delight. So it’s always a treat when a new one comes out.

Now, Finch has done something really interesting with the series. In the first book, A Beautiful Blue Death, which came out 12 years ago, we meet Lenox as an established amateur detective. He’s a cultured, erudite, clever younger son, so his slightly “black sheep” profession is tolerated by family and friends (it helps that he’s such a lovely, sensitive fellow) And throughout the next nine books, we see him develop, take on new challenges, dabble in politics, get married, have a child . . . all while unraveling some very intriguing mysteries.

Then lo and behold, like the clever mystery writer he is, Finch suddenly surprised his readers with a unexpected plot twist. In his previous book, The Woman in the Water, the 11th in the series, he started writing a “prequel to the series—we meed Charles as a green cub, just down from Oxford, trying to decide what he wants to do in life. He loves solving conundrums, but everyone thinks he’s a fool to consider it as a possible career. Nonetheless, he keeps reading the papers about crime, and finds he has an idea he thinks may help solve one. The police, of course, dismiss him as fop and

The Enduring Appeal of Romantic Comedy

Nicola here, talking about the popularity of romantic comedy, both in contemporary and historical stories. A couple of weeks ago I was at the London Book and Screen Week, interviewing Sarah Morgan about romantic comedies and why they are so appealing and so enduring. Not only did we have the chance for a great chat, we also had a private screening of Sarah’s favourite rom com movie, In Her Shoes, just for us and the audience in a very cool little cinema!

I love a good romantic comedy. The best and most enduring ones are funny, witty, charming and moving, whether they are books or on the screen.  I think
they are also thoughtful and complex and tell us about ourselves as humans – about emotions such as desire and love, about relationships and our longings and wishes. They often reflect the attitudes, assumptions and prejudices that prevailed when the films were made and from the very start in the 1930s they had intelligent roles with great dialogue for women. They often show heroines and heroes as well struggling to push back the boundaries that confine their lives. There’s a lot of good things in a package that has so often been underrated.

Nicola Cornick — the Woman in the Lake

Anne here, interviewing Nicola Cornick about her new book, THE WOMAN IN THE LAKE, which came out in the USA last week and comes out in the UK next week. That's the US cover on the right.

The publisher's blurb:
From the bestselling author of House of Shadows and The Phantom Tree  comes a spellbinding tale of jealousy, greed, plotting and revenge—part  history, part mystery—for fans of Kate Morton, Susanna Kearsley and  Barbara Erskine

London, 1765
Lady  Isabella Gerard, a respectable member of Georgian society, orders her  maid to take her new golden gown and destroy it, its shimmering beauty  tainted by the actions of her brutal husband the night before.

Three  months later, Lord Gerard stands at the shoreline of the lake, looking  down at a woman wearing the golden gown. As the body slowly rolls over  to reveal her face, it’s clear this was not his intended victim…

250 Years Later…
When  a gown she stole from a historic home as a child is mysteriously  returned to Fenella Brightwell, it begins to possess her in exactly the  same way that it did as a girl. Soon the fragile new life Fen has  created for herself away from her abusive ex-husband is threatened at  its foundations by the gown’s power over her until she can't tell what  is real and what is imaginary.

As Fen uncovers more about the  gown and Isabella’s story, she begins to see the parallels with her own  life. When each piece of history is revealed, the gown—and its  past—seems to possess her more and more, culminating in a dramatic  revelation set to destroy her sanity.

The Reviews:
Publishers Weekly said: "The tentative romance between Fenella and Hamish effectively balances the sinister mood of the 18th-century story. Romance fans will be most satisfied."  Steph's Fiction said: "If you love historical fiction, then I highly recommend you pick up a copy!" The New York Journal of Books said: "As the story unfolds, the reader understands why, piece by piece. It’s fascinating to look back at life centuries ago, to imagine the people and their circumstance, and this novel fleshes them out with an assured storytelling style."

The Interview:
Anne:  Nicola, congratulations on the release of THE WOMAN IN THE LAKE, your 3rd dual timeline novel. I was intrigued by the contrast in your two covers, the American one focusing on the historical story, the British cover on the more modern story.

Which of the two periods did you enjoy writing the most — and why?

Nicola: Thank you, Anne! I’m really excited that THE WOMAN IN THE LAKE is making its debut at last

What We're Reading in February

Nicola here, introducing the Wenchly reading recommendations in the month of February. As ever we have a big mix of books for you and look forward to hearing what you've been reading too! the picture on the left is the rather gorgeous old bookshop in Marlborough, a town just down the road from me, where I love to browse. Sometimes you might even meet the resident bookshop ghost, which seems appropriate for Pat's first recommendation today!

Pat writes:

SEANCES ARE FOR SUCKERS by Tamara Berry

Ellie Wilde is a cynic, for good reason. As the youngest of triplets, she’s paying to keep her comatose sister in the best nursing home available by using her limited skill set—tricking people. To be fair, she also gives them comfort—by ridding their homes of ghosts she doesn’t believe in. People might call her a psychic medium, but in reality, she’s a great problem-solver and people reader. She has to be, or her sister will be out on the street. Her brother is a gym teacher and can’t possibly afford the cost of nursing care, so it’s up to Ellie. When she’s offered a small fortune and the opportunity to fly to England and live in a mansion while she rids the house of its resident ghost, she happily takes the job.

The Woman In The Lake

Susanna here, inviting you to join me in wishing a very Happy Book Birthday to THE WOMAN IN THE LAKE by our own Nicola Cornick!

This is its American birthday, actually, which will be followed on March 7 by its British birthday, so we will be keeping the celebration going here at the Word Wenches (any excuse for cake, really).

It’s a dual-time novel, linking the lives of two women together over centuries through one lovely but ill-fated gown…

***

‘I see it all again: the silver moon swimming beneath the water and the golden gown billowing out about her…’

1765: Lady Isabella Gerard asks her maid to take her new golden gown and destroy it. Its shimmering beauty has been tainted by the actions of her husband the night before.

Three months later: Lord Eustace Gerard stands beside the lake looking down at the woman in the golden gown. As the body slowly rolls over to reveal her face, it’s clear this is not his intended victim…

1996: Fenella Brightwell steals a stunning gown from a stately home. Twenty years later and reeling from the end of an abusive marriage, she wonders if it has cursed her all this time. Now she’s determined to discover the history behind the beautiful golden dress…

***

I always find covers so interesting. For the American edition of THE WOMAN IN THE LAKE, the cover artists have focused on the historical part of the dual-time story…

…while for the British edition of THE WOMAN IN THE LAKE, the cover focuses on the modern-day thread of the story...

Which cover do you like best?

And when you’re reading a twin-stranded story, with modern day parts and historical ones, do you like one part better?

AAW — Films and TV shows

Anne here for this month's Ask A Wench, and the question of the moment is, "What movies or TV shows have you enjoyed lately?"

We start with Pat.  I record TV and never know how long the shows have been in the DVR. Looking at the list of unwatched programs, I’d say I have apparently stopped watching most regular TV. I used to love Modern Family until it got stale. Elementary has good and bad years, depending on the writers. The Good Place is still watchable, but they’re pushing their limits.

So lately we’ve been streaming a few shows. Dietland is marvelously well-written and acted but occasionally violent. At the moment, I think The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel  is my very favorite.  Set in the early 60s, when Lenny Bruce kept getting thrown in jail for using obscenities in public (yes, kiddies, saying the F word would get you sent to jail), it’s about a young housewife with a gift for comedy. This was not a time when it was easy for a young mother to balance home and career, but the fact that her career is in sleazy nightclubs and makes little money stretches credulity a bit. The show is produced by the gifted people who created Gilmore Girls, so expect laughter, a little societal satire, and not total realism. But looking at the early 60s from our current perspective is entertaining, and the witty dialogue is laugh worthy. 

Nicola here. With the new series of Endeavour, the Inspector Morse prequel, starting tonight, my Sunday night viewing is sorted for the next month and I’m very excited. I love this series with its flawed and fascinating characters, the period setting of 1960s Oxford and the clever plots. I’ve watched and re-watched the previous series so many times.

The Northern Lights!

Nicola here, just back from a cruise along the coast of Norway taking in some spectacular scenery and the stunning beauty of the Northern Lights. Standing on the deck on the ship at 2am in temperatures of -13, it did occur to me to wonder what our ancestors had made of the extraordinary phenomena of the aurora. It’s so beautiful and other-worldly that even in these days when it can all be explained by science, it’s still pretty mind-blowing.  How did people view the aurora in the past? Fortunately there was an excellent lecture on the ship that covered everything to do with the Northern Lights and it was so interesting that I thought I would blog about it here.

Fine Dining through the Ages!

Nicola here! When I was a small child we lived in an ultra-modern house in a town in the North of England. It was the 1960s and 70s and open plan was the height of fashion. Both sets of grandparents however lived in bungalows and my step-grandparents lived in a Victorian two-up tow-down house. All three of these buildings had one thing in common; they had a room that was “for best.” The door was almost always closed and when I was allowed in I didn’t like it. It was always cold (there was no heating on because it wasn’t used very often) and it smelled of that closed up mustiness that rooms sometimes have. In all cases there was a cactus or an aspidistra (or both!) on a wooden plant stand. It was the dining-room.

Dining-rooms are curious things. They go in and out of fashion. At some stages they are the ultimate in aspiration and at others ignored. The Ancient Greeks are usually given the credit for inventing the concept of the dining-room. There were very specific requirements for it: no more than 11 wood or stone benches around the walls. It was a place where men gathered to eat honey cakes and chestnuts, washed down with wine. Yes, it was men only! The Romans, refining the concept, created the triclinium where both men and women dined reclining on sofas, which can’t have been great for the digestion. The Roman triclinium was a very high status room built to have a view and to provide refreshing breezes as one ate. Many were outside and had murals on the wall and fountains in the tables, according to archaeology done at Pompeii.

Ask A Wench: What We're Doing

This month, the wenches are recovering from the holidays and chatting about what they’re doing now!

Pat here: Oh, I’m slowly going crazy—make that crazier. I’m trying to work with the cover designer for the next Crystal Magic book, AZURE SECRETS, while attempting to finish the draft on the book after that, tentatively called AMBER AFFAIR. And at the same time, I’m supposed to be packing for our trip to Costa Rica. I’ll be on the plane as you read this, knock wood. We’re going with what turns out to be a not very well organized group, which means I didn’t even know what luggage I could bring until just the other day. So I’m frantically rearranging my intended wardrobe and narrowing down to basics to fit into a carry-on. Try that some time. We just received the itinerary and we’re digging in to see what sights are accessible around the hotels we’ll be staying at, checking weather to see if we have all the necessities, looking for wi-fi in hopes we’ll not be too out of touch. . . My list keeps growing instead of getting shorter!

A Sense of Memory

Nicola here, musing about the atmosphere of particular places. Today I’m taking us back a long way in English history, beyond the Regency, beyond those ubiquitous Tudors, to a time before the Norman Conquest when England was split into the Anglo Saxon seven kingdoms. The village where I live has a recorded history that goes back to this distant time – there are actual documents from the era relating to events that happened in this very place over a thousand years ago and I find that mind-blowing. As I walk along the footpaths and over the hills I frequently imagine how it might have looked in that time and try to see all the way back through the mists of history to think myself back there.  I can be pretty successful at this; when it’s quiet and I’m standing on the Ravens’ Fort and all I can hear are the birds singing and I feel the breeze on my face I can persuade myself, for a split second anyway, that I have travelled in time. Then an aeroplane flies over and I think perhaps not after all.

On the Seventh Day of Christmas

Nicola here. It’s New Year’s Eve here in the UK, with fireworks, celebrations and all the traditions that go with the ending of one year and the start of the new. One of my favourite new year'e eve traditions was celebrated by my grandmother for many years - She would open the windows at the front and back of the house to invite good luck in and the front and let bad luck out at the back! However this might just have had the practical intention of airing the house after all the smells of Christmas cooking!

It may be the end of December, but in an older tradition it’s only the seventh day of the “twelvetide,” the 12 days of Christmas that started on 25^th December and end with Twelfth Night on 5^th January. In the medieval calendar there was still a lot of festive celebration to go!

In the carol, on the 7^th day of Christmas my true love sent to me seven swans a swimming. In the old Celtic tradition the seven swans were linked to the seven known planets, elegance and mystery personified. In the 17^th century, when the carol originated, swans were seen as good omens, tasty to eat and a source of warmth from the feathers and down. The Christian interpretation of the song was that the seven swans symbolise the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit.

There’s a rather nice idea here the binds the 12 days of Christmas to the idea of New Year’s resolutions. We all have different gifts and qualities. For example, some are good teachers, others can encourage and motivate people and some people are creative. In the New Year, whether or not we make specific resolutions, we can all plan to use and enjoy our own unique gifts.

A very happy New Year’s Eve! Do you have any special traditions you enjoy at this time of year or resolutions you are intent on making?

And finally Jo Beverley's story

 Anne here with our final Sunday snippet for the year from our Christmas anthology, The Last Chance Christmas Ball. Here's the start of Jo Beverley's story, Miss Finch and the Angel.

Four steaming horses swept the post chaise up the drive of Holbourne Abbey and were halted by their postilions, snorting and stamping, before the impressive pillared entrance. Liveried footmen hurried out, their own breath white in the crisp air, to open the carriage door and extract luggage from the boot.
First emerged a valet. Then followed a fashionable young gentleman in a many-caped buff greatcoat and a glossy beaver hat set at an exact angle on golden hair. He regarded the house, smiled slightly, and strode forward to climb the steps.

"A pleasure to see you, Munton," he said to the portly butler who stood waiting in the entrance hall to take his hat and gloves and pass them to a liveried footman. 

"And you, my lord. May I offer season's greetings?"

"I'm sure you may," the young gentleman said pleasantly. "All in order?"

"In general, my lord. Mr. Kimball still chooses a contemplative life."

"Even at Christmas?"

"Indeed, my lord, but the ball will take place as usual."

"Of course it will, especially as it's the fiftieth. Where is Lady Holly?"

"In her rooms, my lord."

Eight Writers Walk into a Regency-Era Ballroom...

Nicola here. Over the past few weeks we’ve been sharing excerpts from our Word Wench Christmas Anthology, The Last Chance Christmas Ball (which is currently still on special offer in the US and Canada in the run up to the festive season – you can find it here!) A number of commenters have asked about the process we went through writing the book as a group project (thank you!), so we’ve updated a post from 2015 when the anthology first came out explaining a bit about this and about the individual stories that we came up with. Today's blog title actually came from a review of the anthology that was in Publisher's Weekly: Eight Writers (collectively known as the Word Wenches) walk into a ballroom and wreak fabulous, shimmering holiday mischief all over the place."

Jo Beverley, who drew together the original post, described it as “fun: at times the sort of fun you get from a camping holiday with unpredictable weather and odd creatures invading the tent.*G*” Which is to say that it wasn’t without its challenges. Some of these were logistical. We’re based around the world. Even within the US there’s a considerable time difference between east coast and west coast, but then we add in England, which is five hours ahead of the east coast and eight hours ahead of California. Pat was getting up when Jo Beverley and I were thinking about dinner, and Anne, in Australia, was going to bed round about the time America woke up! Even in this modern age we often had to wait many hours for the answer to a continuity query.

In addition, of course, we are all strong-minded authors who enjoyed a good discussion over many, many plot points and other issues! But we did have fun, and as you'll see, we all love Christmas stories.

In the Bleak Midwinter: The Last Chance Christmas Ball

By Mary Jo

Eight authors collaborating on an anthology is not the simplest of projects, but we Wenches thought it would be fun to work together, and The Last Chance Christmas Ball (now on sale for a mere 99 cents!) was the result. Our Kensington editor, Alicia Condon, suggested we might do something like a holiday ball where our characters can meet and mingle. This sounded like a fine idea, so we agreed. We had no idea how much work it would be to integrate the stories into a larger framework!

Jo Beverley created a wiki for us so we could add information about the characters and setting so instead of constantly asking things like the name of the butler or the village, we could look it up. This was very convenient.

Then the negotiations began! We talked about our requirements. Susan King, for example, specializes in Scotland so we created a setting in Northumberland, which is next door to Scotland in far northeastern England. A certain kind of great house was required. A promising house was found and modified. I casually talked about how we could have a wounded soldier in the tower as an example of what we could do, and then realized I really did want to write a wounded soldier in the tower!

A Season for Marriage

Nicola here, continuing our Sunday excerpts from The Last Chance Christmas Ball, (the e-book is on special sale right now for only $.99!) Here's the setting: Christmas 1815. Upstairs and downstairs, Holbourne Abbey is abuzz with preparations for a grand ball to celebrate the year’s most festive—and romantic—holiday. For at the top of each guest’s wish list is a last chance to find true love before the New Year… My story is A Season for Marriage... Lady Caroline  Camden is unhappily married to a brilliant MP whose work is his life. In love with her husband and resigned to the fact that he will never love her, Caroline runs back home to Holbourne Abbey, hoping that her old family home will work its magic on her marriage and that against the odds, she and Piers may find happiness...

Anyone for 300 year old ketchup?

Nicola here. There’s something about this time of year that makes me think about food even more than I usually do. Perhaps it’s the run up to the festive season when I’m not only thinking of the dishes I’d like to cook, or more accurately, I’d like the DH to cook for me as he’s a much better chef than I am, but somehow the dark evenings, short days and cold weather make me long to turn to food for both comfort and warmth.

I’m reasonably okay about trying new dishes but when I came across a recipe that mentioned elderberry ketchup I did wince a little. My memories of ketchup, which I haven’t tried in decades, mainly consist of eating fish fingers with tomato ketchup as a child. Anyway, the dictionary definition of ketchup I found is “a spicy sauce made chiefly from tomatoes and vinegar, used as relish.” Historically, ketchup recipes began to appear in British and American cookbooks in the 18^th century. In the UK it was in fact mushrooms rather than tomatoes that first became a staple ingredient, along with shallots and sometimes walnuts. The tomato version only came along 100 years later.

A Very Wenchly Winter Party

Susanna here, still trying to figure out what time zone I'm in, having only just got back from a two-week-long research-and-business-and-more-research trip to the UK, the second week of which took me to London, where I had the very great pleasure of spending time with old friends and meeting new ones.

Wednesday, November 14 was the date of the annual Winter Party held by the UK's Romantic Novelists' Association (of which I've proudly been a member for the past decade) and just before the party my American publishers, Sourcebooks, very generously hosted a special afternoon tea event where not only was I introduced by fellow Word Wench Nicola and interviewed by Honorary Word Wench Christina Courtenay (who took the photo of the table, above), but the icing on the doughnuts provided afterwards even matched the pink of my jacket!

Treasure in the Attic

Last week I was in London for the RNA Winter Party and Industry Awards, and had the pleasure of meeting up with fellow Word Wench Susanna Kearsley who had come to talk to the RNA’s members about her latest book, Bellewether. It was a fabulous occasion and as an added bonus, the following day I had a ticket for the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee Gallery in Westminster Abbey. I’ve wanted to visit the gallery ever since I read of how they had found so many treasures up in the roof space at Westminster Abbey and that they were restoring and displaying some of them.

To get to the Queen’s Gallery you have to climb up a spiral staircase (or take the lift) up a newly-constructed tower on the exterior of Westminster Abbey. This proved to be one of the most exciting parts of the tour because the walls are made of glass and as you ascend you can look at all the external architecture of the cathedral; the huge flying buttresses and the glorious stained glass windows. It was awe-inspiring! Unfortunately there is no photography allowed anywhere in the cathedral but I've done my best to illustrate the blog anyway!

The Christmas Ball: Excert Two: My True Love Hath My Heart

  Joanna here --

As you remember from Anne's posting last week, all the Wenches will be posting an excerpt from our stories from the anthology the Last Chance Christmas Ball, one each Sunday in the lead-up to Christmas.

Here's Anne's excerpt from the story Mistletoe Kisses. 

I'll just repeat what she said last week:

"We wenches had written a Christmas anthology before with a linking theme, but for this one we decided all the stories would be linked to an event, based around an annual Christmas ball, held by Lady Holbourne known as Lady Holly to her friends."

Here's the blurb for the collection:  Christmas 1815. Upstairs and downstairs, Holbourne Abbey is abuzz with preparations for a grand ball to celebrate the year’s most festive—and romantic—holiday. For at the top of each guest’s wish list is a last chance to find true love before the New Year…

My story is titled My True Love Hath My Heart. In it, we meet a legendary jewel, a heroine seeking revenge, a handsome scoundrel, housemaids gossiping, a bit about jewelry design, young love, and somewhat older love which is more complicated, this being the second time round.
And . . . well . . . Christmas.

The title of my short story comes from the eponymous Sir Phllip Sidney poem. (I have been waiting to use the word eponymous for a long time.)

My true-love hath my heart and I have his,

By just exchange one for the other given:

 

So. My excerpt opens in Holbourne Abbey in the insufferable Mr. Gower's bedroom. Our heroine Claire, dressed in a maid's uniform, is rifling through Mr. Gower's jewel boxes.

. . .

“I always wondered what housemaids did in their leisure time.” The voice came from the doorway. “Theft, apparently.”

There was an instant like lightning, filled with a flash of recognition in the midst of blank surprise. She recognized him at once. How could she not? Nobody else spoke like silk over steel. Like honey and granite rock. Shouting in panic, sarcastic over the card table, whispered across a pillow, that was not a voice one could forget. She turned slowly to face him.

Nick Lafford stood in the doorway, a man not taking his dismissal seriously. She was furious with him. She was impatient and unforgiving. And everything inside her—heart, mind, and spirit was glad to see him.

He strolled into the room. Time flowed sluggishly around him, giving her a long opportunity to feel five or six emotions in a row, all of them complicated and contradictory.

“Picture of a maid dusting the jewelry,” he said. “How thorough of you.”

“Searching it, actually.”

“We rise above the banal, then. I always enjoy rising about the banal with you.” He came to look past her into the box on the wardrobe shelf. “We have the very likeness of plunder. I feel quite piratical. Is the loot immensely valuable?”

“Not so far.” She closed the leather case with the rubies and put it firmly back in the tray. “If they were vegetables, this would be a pile of potatoes.”

“Not counting the Coeur de Flamme.” Nick wore one of his deceptively open expressions. 

“Not counting the Coeur, which I haven’t found yet. What in the name of sanity are you doing here?”

“I appear to have joined you in ransacking with intent. Embarrassing if I’m caught at it.” He leaned to look into the jewel box and they touched, just a little. A brush of his jacket on her shoulder. A feeling of warmth at her side. Nothing really.

He said, “I’ll bet these dainty little leather boxes contain the good stuff.”

“Almost certainly. Go away, Nick.”

“I don’t think so. You may, eventually, be glad I’m here.” He stirred a finger into the jewels, inquisitive. “Or, of course, you may not. But I’m here anyway.”

This was so typical of him. Ready to filch jewels at her side or lead her onto the dance floor in Vienna in front of the assembled nobility of Europe. Once, he’d helped her relocate an inconvenient body. Once he—

Blast him for being Nicholas. For being sneaky and single-minded and never giving up. For being clever enough to move her like a chess piece to this time and this place. For saying he loved her.

Blast her for being happy to see him again, even for a minute.

She squashed down the anticipation and gladness that was springing up inside her like so many bubbles rising to the top of beer. She concentrated on being stern. He’d taken her by surprise. That was all. Nothing had changed.

He hooked up entangled necklaces and bracelets and let them dangle. “What a hoard for a man to lug about the north country. They almost beg to be stolen, don’t they?”

“No.”

“I hear their siren call. ‘Pick me up and carry me away,’ they say. Surely he won’t miss a few.”

“I’m busy, Nick. I don’t have time for this.”

“And we’re not thieves, like the regrettable Mr. Gower,” When she didn’t comment he said, “The money doesn’t matter, does it? He didn't just cheat you out of money. He stole your work. He tried to steal your good name.”

Nick understood. That was what made him so insidious. He’d always understood her.

She batted his hand out of the way and picked up the next leather case. “You contrived this. Both of us in the same house. It’s not some cosmic mischance.”

“Humbly, I admit it. I arranged for a guest list to the House party to land in the papers. You saw it. You’re here.”

“I should have been suspicious.”

“I’m glad you weren’t. I’m also glad you’re here,” he gestured a circle, taking in the rest of the room, Holbourne Abbey, and Northumberland, “with me, instead of breaking into Gower’s townhouse. He keeps guards. With guns.”

“Guns in his garden and the unbreakable safe he brags about. I hope someone robs it one fine evening, but it won’t be me. Damn you for interfering.”

“I can’t help myself, you know. Indulged from childhood. No self-discipline.”

He hadn’t changed a whit in the months since she’d sent him away. Still the perfect English aristocrat, casually confident, wrapped in the armor of first-class tailoring. Still the long, intelligent, handsome face that didn't show a tenth of what he was thinking. Brown hair in fashionable disorder. Brown eyes, carefully controlled in what they revealed.

He reached past her and selected a leather jewel case, flicked it open, and found emeralds. “This is nice.”

Very nice. Trust Nick to see that. “It’s famous—both the bracelet and the central stone. Spanish work, from stones plundered out of the New World. It’s been owned by most of the royal families of Europe at one time or another.”

“It must cringe at the company it keeps. May I confiscate it for you in my capacity as representative of the British government?”

“You may put it away.”

“You’re almost impossible to give jewelry to, my sweet.”

“Well, you can’t steal it for me.”

“I can’t buy it for you either, alas. I’ve tried.” He set the emeralds aside. His next leather case held a necklace of citrine and gold.

Her choice held a diamond broach, the stones cut at least a generation ago. She said, “This came to the daughter from her mother's family. The girl's name escapes me--“

“Mary.”

“That’s right. I expected to find it yesterday when I searched her room. He must hand her trinkets out to her, one by one, and take them back at night.”

“One of several petty punishments. They disagree over her choice of marriage partner.”

The English nobility were particular about who they let marry into the family. Wasn’t that the root of her own unhappy problem? “Who would be the daughter of a Gower? I’d rather scrub and dust for a living.”

She opened the next case. Opals. Then the next . . . and held her breath.

Nick whispered, “Well, well, well.”

Here was the Coeur de Flamme, the Heart of Fire.

Christmas snippets

Anne here, starting something a little bit different. We're putting up Sunday posts containing an excerpt from our stories in the Last Chance Christmas Ball — one each Sunday in the lead-up to Christmas.

The anthology was such a fun—and sometimes tricky— thing to do. We wenches had written a Christmas anthology before with a linking theme, but for this one we decided all the stories would be linked to an event, based around an annual Christmas ball, held by Lady Holbourne known as Lady Holly to her friends.

The emails flew back and forth as we tossed around ideas, made plans and thrashed out the details of the setting. Some of us wrote interweaving stories, some of us made our stories linked, but separate, several of us had our people not actually make it to the ball. But we all had such fun doing it, we wanted to share it again.

Here's the blurb for the collection:  Christmas 1815. Upstairs and downstairs, Holbourne Abbey is abuzz with preparations for a grand ball to celebrate the year’s most festive—and romantic—holiday. For at the top of each guest’s wish list is a last chance to find true love before the New Year…

My story is called Mistletoe Kisses, and it's about Allie Fenton, a young woman who, for various reasons, has never been able to attend a ball. Now orphaned and on the shelf, she's planning to become a teacher at a girl's seminary in Bath. But first there's her last Christmas at home and then, Lady Holly's famous annual Christmas ball. 

Here's a short excerpt:

"You'll come to my Christmas ball, then," Lady Holly told her. "Don't bother trying to think up any excuses — you're coming and that's that. Your year of mourning will be up, and you have no reason to stay here moldering away when I've gathered an excellent range of eligible gentlemen for your perusal."

Allie laughed. "For my perusal? As if I'm going shopping?"

"That's exactly what you'll be doing."

"Don't the gentlemen have any say in it?"

The old lady sniffed. "Women have been making men believe they have a choice for generations. Now don't be frivolous, Allie — I am determined to give you one last chance to find a husband before you go off and bury yourself in this, this school of yours." She pronounced 'school' as if she really meant 'zoo.'

Allie smiled. For all her caustic tone, Lady Holly had a very kind heart. "I would love to attend your ball, Lady Holly. . . "

The old lady frowned. "I hear a 'but' coming."

A Road Trip to the Far North

Nicola here. I’ve always loved a road trip, whether real or fictional. In my time I’ve been lucky enough to circumnavigate Iceland, drive across a fair bit of Southern Africa and enjoy a fabulous journey on the iconic Route 66. Last month, though, we took to the road closer to home and travelled the North Coast 500. This amazing route around the Highlands of Scotland is becoming one of the most popular driving routes in the world and I can totally see why. It has stunning views and even more amazing history to take in on the way and I thought I would share a little of that here today.