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.

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.

Six Commandments for the Romance Writer

There's a lot of talk about the "rules" of writing romance novels -- largely because romance is often perceived as being formulaic. (Not true -- but that's a subject for another post, I think.)

But there are a few rules that it's not safe to break, if you want to be published.

1. Remember that you are writing a romance. Not a mainstream novel. Not a travelogue. Not a textbook.

2. Create a likeable heroine. Not Poor Pitiful Pearl. Not stupid. Not a victim.

3. Present an attractive hero. Not a brute. Not a wimp. Not an abuser. Not a stalker.

4. Make the initial attraction and initial conflict plausible. Not an instant hormone attack. Not instant hatred on first meeting.

5. Construct a believable conflict, a real problem between the hero and heroine. Not a misunderstanding. Not interference by malicious other characters.

6. Write a commercial novel, one that readers will enjoy. Not a book they should read for their own education or the improvement of the world, but one they want to read.

Follow those six commandments, and your story will stand a much better chance of reaching the bookstore shelves and the reader’s hands!