Top Five Ways Historical Authors Go Wrong

A couple of weeks ago I met fellow author and blogger Kelly Abell when we were both guests on Marsha Casper Cook's radio show. We talked there about the errors that historical authors most commonly make, and that led to Kelly inviting me to guest blog for her. You can read my post on the Top Five Ways Historical Authors Go Wrong here. Enjoy!

Splitting Heirs

Under the aristocratic system of primogeniture, followed almost religiously during the Regency period, the eldest son is the heir. He gets the title, the fortune, and the land. 

But what if there isn’t an eldest son?

If a title-holder has no legitimate children, or has only daughters, then the lot goes to the nearest male relative of the title-holder. The next in line would be the title-holder’s next-younger brother, and then his sons (if he has any). If the younger brother has no children or only daughters, the title descends to the next brother in the original family, and then to his sons.

An eldest son is known as the heir apparent, because no matter what happens, if he outlives his father he will inherit. Because no one can come between him and the title, he is the apparent – obvious – heir.

If there is no oldest son, then whoever stands next in line is known as the heir presumptive. Since the title-holder could still sire a son (no matter how unlikely that might be), the heir presumptive could still be pushed out of the line of succession. So he’s presumed – but not guaranteed – to be the heir.

If the title-holder dies without a surviving son, but his widow is pregnant, then everything comes to a halt until the baby is born. If it’s a boy, he will hold the title from the moment of his birth. But if it’s a girl, then the next heir in the male line wins the jackpot.

I used this scenario in my Regency novel, Gentleman in Waiting – where the entire family is gathered, waiting to see whether Lady Abingdon’s child will be a boy or a girl...

* * * * *

Everything depends on the baby…

Lady Mariah Gerrard anxiously awaits the birth of her stepmother’s child, desperately hoping for a boy who will inherit their father’s title so Mariah can gain access to her dowry and her freedom. Her father’s cousin John, the next heir in line, has other plans – so if the baby is a girl, disaster looms for Mariah.

When Myles Moreton comes to Edgeworth to manage the family estate, Mariah’s no longer certain that even the birth of a boy will solve her problems. Why is money missing? Why is Mariah’s dowry in doubt?  Despite his genial façade, is Cousin John planning mischief – or worse? Why is Myles Moreton, rather than the late earl’s trustees, suddenly in control? And how can Myles -- a man who’s entirely ineligible -- be not only completely maddening but utterly charming and very, very tempting?

As the family gathers to await the birth, Mariah and Myles search for answers – and they find that playing the waiting game can have its own rewards.

Buy links for Gentleman in Waiting

Axminstering and Other Temptations

Whenever I finish writing a book, there are a couple of items which automatically go on my to-do list. 

The first is to clean up my office, because by the time the project is done, my desk looks like a tornado hit it. (And no, I’m not posting a photo of the mess. Things last forever on the Internet.)

The other is to look back at the job and assess what went well and what could have been improved. In this case, a novella which should have taken maybe three weeks to finish – especially because I’d written a good chunk of it months ago – took twice as long. One of those weeks was lost to a nasty case of flu, but another week or so disappeared because I was Axminstering instead of writing.

What’s “Axminstering”? I’m glad you asked.

In my novella, which is set in an English manor house in 1816, I wrote that my hero felt like the Axminster carpet in the drawing room had turned into quicksand and was pulling him down. Then I paused to wonder – were there Axminster carpets in 1816, or were they more of a Victorian than a Regency phenomenon? 

It’s a question historical authors have to ask themselves with practically every sentence. (Did French doors exist in the Regency – and were they called that, or something else? Did people say “bamboozle” or was that later? What really is the difference between a morning dress and a walking dress? Would the hero be wearing top boots or Hessians?)

But though we really do have to ask the questions and look up the answers, it’s not often that we need that bit of information right at that very moment. My hero could still have been thinking about quicksand if he was standing on a Persian carpet or a marble floor or just a plain old rug – and I could have looked up Axminster carpets at another time.

Instead, I went zooming over to Google where I discovered that the first Axminster carpet was made in 1755, in plenty of time for my drawing room to be decorated with one.

That much research wasn’t a problem. But then I followed the trail. What exactly would that carpet have looked like? What was the most likely combination of colors? What would it have been made of? How big might it have been? And since Wikipedia kindly offered a list of heritage properties where Axminster carpets can be seen, I wandered through those pages searching for pictures. And when I didn't see carpets there, I kept looking till I found images. (Here’s a new carpet, to give you the idea: AXMINSTER)

How much of that knowledge made it into the story? Zero. Zip. Nada. The line’s exactly as I first wrote it.

When I shared this story with my students at Gotham Writers’ Workshop, one of them said in glee, “From now on, I’m not going to call it procrastinating – I’m Axminstering!” (Thanks, Michelle!)

Do you Axminster? What are the temptations you face as you write?

And That's My Point of View...

Are you confused about the difference between first person and third person point of view? Between omniscient and selective? Here are some examples to help you distinguish between the many varieties of POV.

First person: (includes the thoughts, feelings and perspective of one main character, who's telling his/her own story)

             As I walked up the hill, I realized that the atmosphere was just too quiet. There was no sound from the cardinal who was nearly always singing from the top of the maple tree. I thought I saw a shadow move high up on the slope, but when I looked again it was gone. Still, I shuddered as I felt a silent threat pass over me like a cloud over the sun.

Second person: (turns the reader into the character)

             As you walk up the hill, you realize that the atmosphere's just too quiet. There's no sound from the cardinal you know is almost always singing from the top of the maple tree. You think you see a shadow move high up on the slope, but when you look again it's gone. You shudder as you feel a silent threat pass over you. You feel cold, like a cloud just passed over the sun.

Third person selective singular: (includes the thoughts and perspective of one main character)

             As she walked up the hill, she realized that the atmosphere was just too quiet. There was no sound from the cardinal who she so often heard singing from the top of the maple tree. She thought she saw a shadow move high up on the slope, but when she looked again it was gone. Nevertheless, she shuddered as she felt a silent threat pass over her. It felt like a cloud creeping over the sun.

Third person selective multiple: (includes the thoughts of more than one main character but only one at a time. The scene break--*****--indicates a change from one POV to the other)

             As she walked up the hill, she realized that the atmosphere was just too quiet. There was no sound from the cardinal who she so often heard singing from the top of the maple tree. She thought she saw a shadow move high up on the slope, but when she looked again it was gone. Nevertheless, she shuddered as she felt a silent threat pass over her. It felt like a cloud creeping over the sun.

*****

            He saw her start up the hill, and he moved quickly behind the shelter of the huge old maple tree. If she saw him now, everything would be ruined, but if he could stay hidden until she came within range--well, then she'd have to talk to him. Wouldn't she?

Third person dual: (includes the thoughts of two main characters)

             As she walked up the hill, she realized that the atmosphere was just too quiet. There was no sound from the cardinal who she so often heard singing from the top of the maple tree.

            He saw her start up the hill, and he moved quickly behind the shelter of the huge old maple tree. If she saw him now, everything would be ruined.

            She thought she saw a shadow move high up on the slope, but when she looked again it was gone.

            If he could just stay hidden until she came within range, he thought, then she'd have to talk to him. Wouldn't she?

            She shuddered as she felt a silent threat pass over her. It felt like a cloud creeping over the sun.

Third person omniscient: (all-knowing; can include thoughts and perspective of all characters)

             As the girl walked up the hill, she realized that the atmosphere was just too quiet.

            The cardinal tipped his head back and drew breath to sing, but just as the first note passed his beak he heard the crack of a dead branch far below his perch high in the maple tree. Startled, he looked down, cocking his head to one side and watching with great interest while the man rattled the blades of grass as he tried to hide himself behind the tree.

            As the man saw her start up the hill, he moved quickly into the shelter of the huge old maple tree. If she saw him now, everything would be ruined.

            She thought she saw a shadow move high up on the slope, but when she looked again it was gone.

            The man thought if he could stay hidden until she came within range, she'd have to talk to him. Wouldn't she?

            The girl shuddered as she felt a silent threat pass over her. It felt like a cloud creeping over the sun.

Third person detached: (no thoughts; the POV of screenplays)

            The girl walked up the quiet hillside.

            In the top of the maple tree, the cardinal tipped his head back and drew breath to sing. A dead branch cracked on the ground below the bird's perch.

            The man stepped on the branch and rattled the blades of grass as he moved behind the tree. He watched the girl come up the hillside toward him.

            Her gaze shifted quickly and warily from one shadowy area high on the slope to another, and she shuddered.

Factors which affect POV choices:

    What kind of story is it?--external (action) or internal (psychological)? A story loaded with events is more likely to use third person selective multiple or third person dual, while a story filled with the psychological workings of a character's mind is more likely to be first person or third person selective singular. 

    How long is the story? Will there be time to develop the reader's identification with and sympathy for more than one viewpoint character?

    Who is the main character? Whose story is this? 

    Is any one character is in a position to observe all the major events of the story? 

    Is the main character sympathetic in nature, one the reader is likely to identify with? Is the character able to express himself well and clearly?

    Who is the audience? What is the intended market, and what viewpoint style does the targeted publisher prefer?

12 Things You Maybe Didn't Know About Mourning Customs

As a fan of Regency romances, I've always been interested in the mourning customs of the day -- black clothes and veils most of all. Then I discovered that my friend Loren the historian is even more of a nut than I am about the process of grieving a loved one during the Regency and Victorian periods. We can have hours-long discussions about what he likes to call The Victorian Way of Death. (Isn't that a great title for a book?)

Since my latest Regency romance novel explores what happens after the unexpected death of an earl leaves his entire family -- including his pregnant wife and his daughter -- in limbo, I had to refresh my memory about mourning customs. What was my heroine allowed to wear? How long would she have to remain in seclusion?

So I thought today I'd share some fun facts about death and mourning during the Regency and Victorian periods.

1. Deaths most often occurred in the home, and bodies were laid out in the best parlor for visitors. That's the origin of today's commonly-used term, "funeral parlor" or "funeral home."

2. Not only the survivors but the house was put into a state of mourning. Clocks were stopped, shutters were closed, mirrors were draped or turned to the wall, and the "badge of death" (usually made of black crepe) was hung on the front door.

3. In an era before the telephone and (in the Regency) before the telegraph, the news of a death was sent by mail -- often on stationery which bore a black border to warn the recipient of the bad news inside.

4. Women did not attend burials in the Regency period. They were presumed to be too weak to withstand the shock of standing at a graveside, so they stayed at home.

5. The procession from the home to the church for the funeral service and then on to the graveyard (the word "cemetery" is a Victorian invention) was a ceremonial occasion and the lineup of the mourners was very important. Chief mourners -- those closest in relationship to the deceased -- were first in the procession, followed by other relatives in descending order as the relationship grew more distant. Then came friends, neighbors and other guests.

6. Mourning dress achieved full and tortuous status after the death of Prince Albert in 1861 threw Queen Victoria into a cycle of grief from which she never emerged -- but long before that, widows were expected to wear nothing but black for an entire year, the period known as full mourning. The more distant the person's relationship to the deceased, the less stringent the dress requirements and the shorter the period of time. For a man mourning a distant relative, wearing a black armband for a few weeks was sufficient.

7. After the full mourning period was completed, half-mourning allowed the grieving person to wear purple, lavender, or gray clothing -- but bright colors were not allowed until the mourning period was entirely over. 

8. The widow was expected to seclude herself at home for the entire period of full mourning -- receiving visits only from close friends or relatives and venturing out only to go to church. During half-mourning, she could once again venture out for quiet social occasions and visits, but not parties or balls.

9. Mourning clothes were among the very first mass-produced clothing items. Since the need for them often arose suddenly, there wasn't time for seamstresses or tailors to make garments from scratch.

10. The heavy black veils worn by Victorian widows were dyed using a compound containing arsenic -- which may have contributed to the the large number of ladies who soon followed their husbands to the grave.

11. Mourning jewelry was often specially made of jet -- a black stone resembling coal -- for the grieving person. Sometimes regular jewelry could be re-engineered to suit the purpose, perhaps mounted on a black background. During half-mourning, some regular jewelry could be worn -- diamonds and pearls because they were neutral in color and amethysts because of their purple color.

12. Until 1823, any person who committed suicide was required by law to be buried at a crossroads with a stake driven through the heart, to prevent the ghost from walking. Until 1832, a suicide could be buried only between the hours of 9 p.m. and midnight, with no service or prayers said over the body.

It's relatively easy to find data on Victorian mourning customs; the Regency is a bit tougher to research. In fact, the Regency was part of a transition period between the 18th century (when gravestone symbolism was dominated by the skull and crossbones, skeleton with a scythe, or the death's head) and the high Victorian period (when euphemisms took over and people "entered into rest", "fell asleep in the arms of Jesus", "went to his reward" and so on. 

We still use some of these -- like "passed away" -- so though many of the customs of the 19th century sound weird to us, they still resonate in today's practices.

***

Gentleman in Waiting

Everything depends on the baby…

Lady Mariah Gerrard anxiously awaits the birth of her stepmother’s child, desperately hoping for a boy who will inherit their father’s title so Mariah can gain access to her dowry and her freedom. Her father’s cousin John, the next heir in line, has other plans – so if the baby is a girl, disaster looms for Mariah.

When Myles Moreton comes to Edgeworth to manage the family estate, Mariah’s no longer certain that even the birth of a boy will solve her problems. Why is money missing? Why is Mariah’s dowry in doubt?  Despite his genial façade, is Cousin John planning mischief – or worse? Why is Myles Moreton, rather than the late earl’s trustees, suddenly in control? And how can Myles -- a man who’s entirely ineligible -- be not only completely maddening but utterly charming and very, very tempting?

As the family gathers to await the birth, Mariah and Myles search for answers – and they find that playing the waiting game can have its own rewards.

Gentleman in Waiting links

The Butler Did It!

Since most of us don’t have servants, it’s sometimes tough to picture what people in service in the grand houses of the past actually did all day. If you've read my post on the housemaid’s job, you may have concluded that the upper servants had a far easier time of it. And that’s true, though it depends on how large the household actually was.

In the grandest of houses, the head of the staff would be a house steward who was in charge of hiring and firing servants and paying the tradesman’s bills, but in the merely grand houses, those duties would be split between the butler – assisted perhaps by an under-butler – and the housekeeper.

While the housekeeper is (naturally) in charge of the house, the butler is in charge of the dining room – including protecting, polishing, and counting the silver and maintaining the wine cellar – and overseeing all the male servants. If there was no valet to wait on the master of the house, the butler took care of his clothing and dressing room.

While the pattern of a butler’s day varied greatly depending on the size of the household and the activities of the family, here’s a pretty normal pattern for the butler in a medium-sized house:

It is the butler’s duty to set the breakfast table, bring up the food and drink, wait on table, and clear after the family has finished – a pattern which is repeated at luncheon, dinner, and with the evening tea tray just before bedtime. After each meal he supervises the cleaning of all the silver, china, glasses, and serving dishes and makes sure they are put away in their proper places.

Between meals, he takes up his other duties. He take care of the master's clothes, laying out what he'll need next, cleaning or brushing or mending, and straightening the dressing room. He checks the wine cellar, tending to any wines which may be off in taste or color, or bottling wines which were delivered in casks. He polishes the silver (no tarnish-proof strips in those days!), and he’s on duty to answer the door from morning till night. After the household has retired, he makes sure all the menservants have gone to bed, then locks up the doors and windows before (finally!) retiring himself.

By the Victorian era, when paying calls over tea became a standard afternoon activity, the butler had it a bit easier. The fashion for Victorian ladies was to have a very attractive parlormaid who would answer the door and wait on the ladies and their afternoon callers at tea time. Since the butler was not required, he could rest for an hour.

Pay during the Regency period? From 30 to 80 pounds sterling per year – depending on the size of the family and the household staff. But he also received his master’s cast-off clothes, as well as the leftover pieces of the wax candles, once they were too short to burn! 

Sources: The Complete Servant, by Samuel and Sarah Adams, published 1825
Etiquette, by Emily Post, published 1922

Primping in the Regency

A fellow writer of historical romances asked this week: “What amenities did London hotels have in the 19^th century for the proper lady to refresh herself in relative privacy in front of a mirror?”

Now that’s an interesting question – and it’s one I don’t have a definite answer for.

The best sources for information about what happened in particular historical periods are diaries, personal letters, and artifacts – surviving locations and/or possessions. For instance, we know what sort of undies people wore during various historical periods because examples have survived. And we know the basics about how and where people relieved themselves, because a few of those places and pieces of equipment still exist. But figuring out whatever the 19^th century equivalent of a power room would have been – that requires figuring out context.

Personal hygiene isn’t something that people talk about, even today – at least not unless it’s something unusual. (I’m pretty sure that the first time I encountered a ladies’ room attendant in a posh restaurant, I mentioned it to my friends.) But powdering our noses is such a commonplace thing that we don’t give it a second thought – aside from the occasional complaint about inadequate facilities, I suppose. Our sisters in the 19^th century didn’t write about it in letters either, or note it in their diaries.

So I’m speculating here, trying to figure out context – based on hygiene, comfort, convenience, and taxes – of how a 19^th century lady would have powdered her nose.

The first question, of course, is what part of the 19^th century we’re talking about.

In the Regency period, personal hygiene most often involved an outdoor privy, or a chamber pot (or the equivalent) inside. This crucial piece of equipment was also called a close stool or necessary stool or toilet chair – here’s a picture of one: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Close_stool

In the Regency era, there wasn't much incentive for designing or building special facilities for personal hygiene. Running water was rare, early designs for flush toilets often let sewer gases creep back into the room, and servants (to dump and clean those chamber pots) were inexpensive.  However, the resulting odors and lack of cleanliness meant that a lady probably wouldn't primp near her chamber pot.  Her dressing table would likely be across the room from the sanitary facilities, and it might or might not boast a mirror on the wall – because glass was expensive and hard to produce in large sheets, and it was taxed like the luxury item it was.

Because of the mirror tax, public hotels probably didn’t have many mirrors either. In their best bedrooms, possibly – which is why I think the lady who wanted to primp while traveling would most probably ask to be shown to a bedchamber.

It’s also likely that our proper lady would travel with her own hand mirror. Remember those sets that our grandmothers – or maybe we should say great-grandmothers, by now – kept for pretty on their dressers? A hand mirror, a brush, and a comb, all in the same pattern – those sets were treasured and handed down from mother to daughter. If she was carrying her dressing set, our lady could have primped just about anywhere that no one was looking.

By the mid to late Victorian era, flush toilets were more common, bathrooms were being included in houses and water closets built in public areas, and the mirror tax was defunct or nearly so.  So a Victorian lady could most likely have primped in front of a mirror in a semi-public area of a hotel – though I’m still not sure what that room would have been called. A ladies’ retiring room, perhaps?

If anyone has sources or speculations to add, I welcome your insights!

A Regency Lady Meets Third-Grade Students

This week I had the honor and privilege of being a visiting author at my granddaughter's third-grade class. Speaking to 9-year-olds about books and writing represents something of a challenge, considering that I write love stories, and some hot and spicy ones at that. Reading a passage from my books would require some pretty careful editing.

So I decided to talk about research, and the many differences between their lives as kids born into the 21st century and what things would have been like for 9-year-olds and their parents 200 years ago, during the Regency period when many of my stories are set. 

And I went dressed as a Regency lady -- gown, shawl, gloves... I skipped the corset, though. :)

I was pleased at how quickly these very savvy kids defined the math problem of how many years ago the Regency period began and came up with the answer. And then we started talking about all the differences -- the things that didn't exist 200 years ago. They easily got all the obvious ones -- cell phones and the Internet, cars and electric lights. I had to prod a little to get them to figure out that refrigeration was hardly the easy and commonplace thing we have today, and they were stunned when we figured out that the trip from their school to the state capital -- a two-hour drive today -- would take something like twenty hours and at least 10 different teams of horses.

Among the things which surprised them most were schools. Despite the number of their peers who are home-schooled today, they were startled by the fact that kids their age would have been educated at home by governesses, or they'd have gone to boarding school -- if their families could afford it. Or they simply wouldn't have gone to school at all, if their families were poor.

Next time -- and I've already been invited to speak to another group of 9 and 10-year-olds next month -- I'll try to find a piece of one of my books which I can actually share with the kids. 

But this time, we finished up with a story about a pet duck my family used to have -- a children's book my husband and I are thinking of publishing later this year. That's Just Ducky at two days old -- already showing her inborn instincts by trying to incubate an egg!

The Next Big Thing

The Next Big Thing Blog Hop is a chance for the author to respond to ten questions about her latest book – and then pass along this “chain letter” to another set of authors who will post on their blogs the following Wednesday.

First, I’d like to thank debut author (and my former student at Gotham Writers’ Workshop) J.L. Hammer for tagging me to participate. Click the links below to find out more about J.L.’s romantic suspense, Outmaneuvered, featuring FBI agent Cruz Romero and suspect Amanda Price, and her Next Big Thing, the re-release of her romantic suspense novel, Blue Horizon. You’ll find her website at www.jl-hammer.com and her blog at http://jl-hammer.blogspot.com   

Here is my Next Big Thing! Please feel free to comment and ask questions.

1: What is the title of your book? The BirthdayScandal

2: Where did the idea come from for the book? I love writing triple stories – three heroes, three heroines, three romances woven into one book.  So writing about two sisters and a brother was a natural setup for me – they’re all dealing with their overbearing father while they’re coming up short in the love department.

3: What genre does your book come under? Spicy Regency-period historical

4: Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition? I’m terrible at the movie game, so I’d love to hear what readers have to say about casting decisions. But I’d love to see Maggie Smith play the meddling old gossip Lady Stone, who appears in all of my Regency-period historicals.

5: What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book? The three Arden siblings – Lucien, Isabel, and Emily – go to their great-uncle’s 70^th birthday gathering, where he’s promised to make their lives easier. But instead of receiving the financial help they’re hoping for, each one of the three falls in love.

6: Is your book self-published, published by an independent publisher, or represented by an agency? My agent is Christine Witthohn of Book Cents Literary Agency.  This is my 85^th romance novel but the first one to be published by Montlake Romance. Previously I was published by Harlequin and Sourcebooks, and I also write non-fiction.

7: How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript? It takes me about four to six months to write each of my historicals – with at least that much recuperation time between books.

8: What other books would you compare this story to within your genre? Since I write complex stories involving three heroes, three heroines, and three romances ongoing within the story, the structure is actually more like women’s fiction than like the usual romance.

9: Who or what inspired you to write this book? (a) the mortgage. (b) chocolate. (c) more chocolate.

10: What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest? After writing 80 sweet traditional contemporary romances, I took a wild turn and changed everything I could – short to long, sweet to spicy, current-day to historical, US settings to England… If I could have thought of anything else to change, I probably would have. Readers may be interested to  know that even this very dramatic change in story uses the same basic tools in writing. Also that I researched the Regency period for decades before I felt comfortable enough with the setting to actually write about it.

Below are the links to the next chain of authors, who will be posting next Wednesday. Be sure to bookmark their sites and add their new releases to your calendars. Happy Writing and Reading!

Elke Feuer is a debut author with Crimson Romance. In For the Love of Jazz, she brings Jazz Age Chicago back to life when a contemporary heroine finds clues to her family’s past. Find out more at http://elkefeuer.com , or follow her on Twitter.

Lynda Haviland writes paranormal romance featuring Egyptian gods and goddesses living in the contemporary world. Find out more about the Age of Awakening series, including her new release, Immortal Dominion, at http://lyndahaviland.com

D. L. Carter writes offbeat, screwball comedies -- including Ridiculous, set in the Regency period, and her newest release, First Destroy All Giant Monsters (now really, with a title like that, how can you NOT pick up the book?) You can keep up with her current work at http://funwithghoulsandgoblins.blogspot

Elaine Orr writes a cozy mystery series featuring real estate appraiser Jolie Gentil, set on the New Jersey coast. Her newest release is Any Port in a Storm. Find out more at www.elaineorr.com or www.elaineorr.blogspot.com

Laura Navarre writes Tudor-era (and earlier) historical romance, often with a paranormal touch. Her latest release is By Royal Command.  Find out more at www.LauraNavarre.com or  Facebook.

Regency vests and waistcoats

Since I write Regency-period historicals, I'm always on the lookout for tidbits of information about that era -- and how they relate to today's world. So I was intrigued to find out why a stylish modern man leaves the bottom button unfastened on his vest.

It's because the Prince of Wales, Britain's regent ruler during the 1810s and the reason the Regency period got its name, was ... well, let's just say he got pretty portly over the years. When his stylishly-tight clothing got to be uncomfortable, he'd unbutton something. Finally, he just started leaving the bottom button open all the time.

So when your guy gets dressed up in a three-piece suit, he's paying homage to a British ruler from two hundred years ago. 

The illustration here is of George as a young man -- or perhaps the artist just knew how to flatter his patron.

Here's another interesting tidbit. In the US we call the third piece of a three-piece suit a vest, but in Britain, it's called a waistcoat. What Brits call a vest is what we American's call an undershirt. So you can imagine how silly it sounds to a British reader when an American author refers to leaving the lowest button of a vest unfastened. Sigh. 

As playwright George Bernard Shaw once said, England and the United States are two countries "separated by the same language." And that brings up a question. Have you faced a situation where it was tough to make yourself understood -- or tough to get what the other person was talking about -- because of an oddity in the language?

The tour continues...

This is the dining room of my miniature house, Greystone Manor. The chandelier is electric, but the red candles on the side tables are real. The tea cart at the far end of the room is set up and ready to serve, and the art lying on the dining room table -- waiting to be framed -- are actual watercolors painted by favorite artists. The swinging doors to the left lead to the kitchen, and just visible across the hall is the living room.

Now if I can just get the teeny-tiny maid to come in and tidy up -- straighten the chairs, gather up the used mug, and take those watercolors to the frame shop.... :)

Taking A Bath

While I was in the shower this morning, I found myself thinking about bathing through the ages.

Across the Roman Empire, public baths were popular not only for personal hygiene but for socializing. Sometimes the location of Roman baths was dictated by hydrothermal springs which preheated the water -- as in Bath, England (which wasn't called that until after the end of the Roman occupation. Go figure.)

With the passing of Roman civilization, bathing fell out of favor. By the time of Queen Elizabeth (the last half of the 16th century) doctors thought that bathing wasn't healthy and advised people to wash only body parts which were visible to others.. Exposing the entire body to water at one time? Horrors!

On the few occasions per year when a bath was unavoidable, a large wooden tub was dragged out, lined with cloths to protect the bather from splinters, and filled  with water heated over an open fire. After the bath, the used water was removed by the bucketful and carried outside to discard.

By the start of the Regency period, people were more enlightened about cleanliness and they had better equipment -- metal tubs, often a "hip bath" which allowed the bather to immerse more of the body. But by the time someone set up the tub, heated and hauled the water in, and emptied the used water by the bucketful -- well, she probably needed another bath.

A few very wealthy people started to install special bathing rooms with permanent tubs. The biggest advantage of the permanent tub was a drain hose leading outside, so the used water no longer needed to be dipped from the tub after the bath. But water still had to be heated and carried by the bucket to fill the tub.

Though the Greeks had communal showers which were something like today's locker rooms, the indoor shower didn't become practical until about 1850 -- when indoor sources of running water made it feasible. The earliest Victorian showers were used mostly by men, because doctors of the time considered women too frail to stand up to the pounding of water.

If Margaret Mitchell submitted GWTW today

From: Today’s romance publishers
To: Margaret Mitchell
Regarding: Your submission, currently titled Gone With the Wind


Dear Ms. Mitchell:


Thank you for the opportunity to review your Civil War novel. We regret that we must take a pass on the book at this time. However, since you are an excellent writer, we are happy to take the time to make suggestions in the hope that a revision would be more likely to meet with a positive response from publishers and readers.


We find that the era for saga novels has passed, because readers today have a much shorter attention span. In its present form the novel is far too large and unwieldy, and we suggest that you think hard about which story you are most interested in telling. Right now there is far too much war and too many potential heroes for the story to be a romance. Honestly, does Scarlett really need to collect every man she meets? 


Perhaps you’ll want to consider dividing the experiences which you have given to Scarlett among the three O’Hara sisters and creating a trilogy. We have found that trilogies about sisters sell well in today’s publishing climate. This would allow you to deal with each story at a more manageable length and create a true romance with each sister having her own hero. (Of course, sell-through figures on the first book would determine whether the second and third were of interest to the publisher.)


We find that our readers do not respond well to Civil War settings, so perhaps you would find it an inviting challenge to re-envision the novel as a Regency, set in England against the background of the Napoleonic Wars. Rhett would be a natural as a rakish earl, and Scarlett might be the spoiled daughter of a duke. We suggest modifying his signature line to "Frankly, Lady Scarlett, I don't give a damn."


You might also consider strengthening the paranormal elements which already exist in the story (you have hinted that Scarlett is something of a witch).


Furthermore, we don’t understand your title, and since there doesn’t seem to be a single wind metaphor in the entire novel we suggest renaming the book The Southern Rebel Blockade-Running Rake’s Gold-digging Bride.


We hope that you find our comments useful and that you are eager to tackle this revision with an eye to strengthening your story and possibly making it saleable. These suggestions, of course, should not be interpreted as an indication that we would actually buy the book if you revise it along the lines we have suggested. 


Yours sincerely,
The Editors


(My thanks to the students in my Gotham Writers Workshop Master Class, who contributed ideas and enthusiasm to this project.)

Baronets and their ladies

Bridging the gap between the peerage (dukes, marquesses, earls, viscounts, and barons, along with their families) and commoners (pretty much everybody else) are the baronets.

Like a knight, a baronet is addressed as Sir Firstname Lastname, or more familiarly, Sir Firstname. (He is not called Sir Lastname, and never Lord Lastname). His wife is referred to as Lady Lastname.

Unlike a knighthood, a baronetcy is hereditary, with the eldest son succeeding to the title upon the death of his father. At that time, if the new baronet is married, his wife becomes Lady Lastname, while his mother's form of address changes to Firstname, Lady Lastname.

A very few modern day baronetcies have been created for women, and a small handful of baronetcies can be inherited by women or through the female line. These women are referred to as Dame Firstname Lastname or Dame Firstname (but never Dame Lastname).

Spotlighting the Speaker

The rule of thumb you usually hear on paragraphing dialogue is to start a new paragraph for each new speaker. But there are actually so many exceptions that I think a better way is to think of dialogue as if you’re watching two actors on stage.

As we watch the play, we look at Actor A and listen to what he says, then we turn to look at Actor B and see what the reaction is and listen to what Actor B says. But even if Actor B doesn't say anything, we still turn our heads to look at the reaction (the expression, the glare, the physical motion, the deer-in-headlights stare). In other words, we've changed our focus from one actor to the other one.

When you're writing dialogue, picture the two people as if they’re on stage. Where you turn your head to look at the other person, start a new paragraph – even if that person doesn't say anything.

Whenever you want the reader to change focus – to “look at” the other person – start a new paragraph.

Then put everything about that person’s reaction into one paragraph. What he says, what he does, the attribution, all goes together. (If it’s a long paragraph, consider breaking it up by returning to the other person for a moment mid-stream.)

Keep going back and forth – helping the reader to turn her head and look at the other person – and you’ll have a more lively dialogue.

Welcome to Greystone Manor!

Welcome!


Above is the view which greets the visitor just inside the front door of Greystone Manor. That's the back door you can see; the front door would be behind you. Off to the right through the french doors is the living room. Yes, those are two tiny sets of armor perched along the stair railing -- and if you look closely, you'll see that the center of each wooden tread is worn from the traffic of the family running up and down. The intricate molding on the stairs was created with one tiny toothpick-sized piece of wood at a time, by my husband the master builder. (That's his thumb below, showing the scale of the wood, before the walnut stain and finish were applied.)  The rug is counted cross stitch on aida cloth. 

Barons & Baronesses

Barons are the fifth and lowest level of the British peerage, coming right below viscounts. Barons may well be the oldest of the ranks, with the titles of earls and marquesses and viscounts originating after barons were already well established. Frequently an earl or marquess or viscount is also a baron, and the lesser title is often the one used by a titled gentleman's eldest son as a courtesy. Often -- but not always -- the baron's title is directly derived from the family name, so that if Henry Smith were to be named a baron, he might be Baron Smith.

He would be addressed as Lord Smith or my lord, and his wife would be Lady Smith (but -- oddly -- not my lady.) The baron's children are known as The Honorable Firstname Lastname.

In modern times, there are a few women who have been named baronesses in their own right, for service to the crown. Former Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, for instance, is Baroness Thatcher -- most often referred to as Margaret, Lady Thatcher.

(Lady Margaret Thatcher would be a different individual entirely -- the daughter of a high-ranking nobleman, rather than a peeress in her own right.)

Viscounts and Viscountesses

The rank in the peerage below earls and above barons is that of a viscount -- and though it's tempting to pronouce the S, it's actually silent.

A viscount is often be the oldest son of an earl or a marquess, holding his title as a courtesy based on his father's rank. Or he can be the holder of the title in his own right, if it's the most exalted title in the family. A viscount's wife is a viscountess.

His children don't hold titles, other than being formally addressed as The Honorable Firstname Lastname, and the oldest son of a viscount -- unlike the heir of a higher-ranking peer --is treated no differently from his younger brothers.

Today a viscount's daughters are simply called Miss Lastname, regardless of their order of birth. In the more-formal days of the Regency and Victorian eras, the oldest daughter was given a bit more status by being called Miss Lastname, while her younger sisters were known as Miss Firstname Lastname.

Characters Who Keep Secrets

Can a point of view character keep a big secret, without losing the reader's sympathy? That was the subject of a program I presented last week to the Central Iowa Fiction Writers group in Des Moines, Iowa. And the answer is YES -- if the author is careful.

Here are the rules for playing fair with the reader:

Only keep important secrets.

If it’s important enough, it should be secret.

Give the character a good reason to finally break down and tell the truth.

Don’t tease.

Ask the normal questions.

Have another character ask or answer the obvious question.

Tell the truth wherever possible.

Don’t lie, no matter what.

Divert the reader’s attention to something else.

Foreshadow, foreshadow, foreshadow.

What do you think? Let's talk!

Simply Good -- Recipes for the Busy Cook

The characters I write about, in both my contemporary and Regency-period romances, eat a lot of fancy food. (They can eat all they like -- fictional food has no calories.) But I'm generally not a fancy-food person. I keep all of my elaborate cookbooks in my office, where I use them for research.

When I'm in my kitchen, I'm generally creating much simpler fare -- and I reach for a much simpler cookbook. To find its way into my personal cookbook, a recipe has to be fast, easy (or better yet, fast AND easy). Or it has to make a big enough quantity to be worth the time it takes to slice, dice, stir, and simmer -- so I can freeze some and have a really easy meal later on.

My newest cookbook venture, Simply Good, Recipes for the Busy Cook, will be released soon in ebook format for e-readers, tablets and mobile devices. I'm finishing up the details to make it as handy as possible for use in the kitchen or on the run -- like being able to look up a recipe and check the ingredients on a Smart Phone while you're still in the grocery store.