Writing any book is tough enough, but stepping back in time to create characters from previous centuries presents a yawning trap for today's writers. As an author myself, I struggle with anachronisms -- for instance, I only recently learned that the term "grandfather clock" wasn't in common use until the late 1800s -- after an 1876 song called "My Grandfather's Clock" became popular. Before that, they were called "longcase clocks.")
But it isn't just material goods that create problems for historical writers. Here are the top five ways we all tend to get it wrong:
Using modern speech. We’re so used to our ordinary way of talking that modern expressions often slip into our characters’ dialogue and thoughts. While expressions like “Get a grip” and “I haven’t got a clue” are pretty obvious, others aren’t quite so easy to weed out. Like the nineteenth-century character who tells his grandson, “I don’t like the people you’re hanging around with.” Or the narrator of a novel set in 1066 who says, “They took off into the woods.” Or the Regency heroine who says the hero has derailed her train of thought – before trains and rails were commonplace. Or a hero from the 1820s who says, “I didn’t come here to be analyzed like some patient in a mental asylum” – 70 years before Sigmund Freud developed psychoanalysis. A more subtle (but still disconcerting) example is the heroine who says to the hero, “You think everything is all about you, Your Grace.”
Including modern attitudes. Far too often in romance fiction, people who were supposedly born and reared in the 1300s or the 1500s or the 1800s think and talk and behave as though they just stepped out of Starbucks holding a latte. It’s true that in order to appeal to today’s reader, main characters tend to be more modern in outlook than their real life peers would have been. But when characters don’t even stop and think about it before they spout today’s perspectives on things like religion, lifestyles and women’s rights, or when they display today’s understanding of psychology, hygiene, nutrition, and medicine, it’s tough to make the reader believe they’re real.
Messing up titles. The most common error when it comes to using aristocratic titles is using the wrong form of address, or using multiple forms of address for the same person. Lady Sarah Winchester isn’t the same person as Lady Winchester is. (Lady Sarah is the daughter of a peer, Lady Winchester is Lord Winchester’s wife.) Lord Winchester isn’t the same person as Lord Randolph Winchester. (Lord Randolph Winchester is the younger son of a duke or a marquess, Lord Winchester is the big cheese himself.) Sir James Smythe is always Sir James, not Sir Smythe. When the author doesn’t realize there’s a big difference between variations which seem so small, it’s easy to dismiss the story entirely.
Not understanding the rules of inheritance. In the eras most commonly used in historical fiction, illegitimate sons could not inherit titles – period. Oldest sons could not be bypassed in favor of younger ones. Daughters could not pass along titles, except for a very few cases by royal decree. Most often, all the land and money was left to the eldest son. I remember an author who made her heroine a duchess… but not by having her marry a duke, which would be the only way for her to achieve that rank. Instead, this heroine got her title because her grandmother, who was the previous duchess, abdicated and bypassed her daughter in favor of her granddaughter. That’s at least three kinds of impossible.
Just plain getting it wrong. Why bother to look it up when we can make it up? It’s tempting to assume that our vague recollection of the timeline is accurate, or figure that if some other historical author used it, we don’t need to check for ourselves.
A few prize-winning examples: The Regency hero and heroine who honeymooned on an ocean liner – decades before ocean travel started to be comfortable. The maid who says to her mistress, “It’s chilly; you should wear your wool kid gloves” – they can’t be both wool and leather. The hero and heroine who run away from a London ball to Gretna Green, arriving there early the next morning – but traveling 320 miles took at least 36 hours in those days. A Regency hero and heroine who get married at St. George’s Cathedral – St. George’s Hanover Square is a simple parish church, not a cathedral.
This trap yawns equally wide for authors writing in other historical periods. Take a Viking romance which refers to potatoes – five centuries before they were introduced to Europe. Or a story set in 1949 where the narrator says, “He passed out after we hit the interstate” – years before the interstate highway system was even proposed.
Some of these things sound pretty obvious when we look at them in a list. But beware – they can sneak up and attack us when we’re not paying attention.
This blog was first posted on Sitting on the Porch with Kelly, hosted by author Kelly Abell.
Welcome! Reading, Writing, and Regency combines my interests as a reader, as an author, as a teacher, and as an amateur historian who's always been intrigued by the English Regency period (1811-1820). Come on in, pour yourself a cup of virtual tea, and let's have a chat!
Showing posts with label titles. Show all posts
Showing posts with label titles. Show all posts
Friday, January 8, 2016
Monday, May 21, 2012
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.
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.
Monday, May 14, 2012
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.)
Saturday, May 12, 2012
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).
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).
Friday, April 13, 2012
All About Earls
Next in line of importance in the aristocracy, after dukes and marquesses, are earls. Most of them are the Earl OF something, but a few are like Earl Spencer, Princess Diana's father --who was not the Earl of Spencer. (And that's why a few American reporters have gotten all messed up when interviewing Diana's brother, the current holder of the title, thinking that his first name is Earl.)
In most cases, the earldom is the main and most prominent title that a gentleman holds, and it's inherited from a near male relative (father, brother, uncle). When the previous earl dies, then the new one succeeds to the rights and responsibilities and property of the title. Through most of history, that included a seat in the House of Lords, the upper chamber of Great Britain's Parliament.
Occasionally, a duke or a marquess is also an earl, and in that case his oldest son may use the title of Earl of Whatever as an honorary title.
An earl's wife is the Countess of Whatever. Why isn't she called ...I don't know, maybe an Earl-ess? (And that's probably enough of an answer right there! Who'd want to be known as an ear-less?) Actually it's because an earl and a count -- or in France, a comte -- are roughly equivalent. However, when William the Conqueror arrived from Normandy in 1066 to take over England, bringing a new order of aristocracy with him, the older Saxon title of Earl stuck.
The oldest son of an earl carries one of his father's lesser titles as an honorary title; he's generally a viscount or a baron. The younger sons are not titled and are formally referred to as The Honorable Firstname Lastname -- in person, they're called Mr. Lastname. This is one of the few times that being female carries an advantage, because all the daughters of an earl are referred to as Lady Firstname Lastname. And like the daughter of a duke, an earl's daughter maintains her rank as a lady even if she marries a commoner. If she marries someone with a title, then she generally uses the rank she acquires through marriage, rather than the one she has from birth.
(Which reminds me -- someday we really must take up the discussion of whether "Princess Diana" was ever her real title -- even before her divorce!)
In most cases, the earldom is the main and most prominent title that a gentleman holds, and it's inherited from a near male relative (father, brother, uncle). When the previous earl dies, then the new one succeeds to the rights and responsibilities and property of the title. Through most of history, that included a seat in the House of Lords, the upper chamber of Great Britain's Parliament.
Occasionally, a duke or a marquess is also an earl, and in that case his oldest son may use the title of Earl of Whatever as an honorary title.
An earl's wife is the Countess of Whatever. Why isn't she called ...I don't know, maybe an Earl-ess? (And that's probably enough of an answer right there! Who'd want to be known as an ear-less?) Actually it's because an earl and a count -- or in France, a comte -- are roughly equivalent. However, when William the Conqueror arrived from Normandy in 1066 to take over England, bringing a new order of aristocracy with him, the older Saxon title of Earl stuck.
The oldest son of an earl carries one of his father's lesser titles as an honorary title; he's generally a viscount or a baron. The younger sons are not titled and are formally referred to as The Honorable Firstname Lastname -- in person, they're called Mr. Lastname. This is one of the few times that being female carries an advantage, because all the daughters of an earl are referred to as Lady Firstname Lastname. And like the daughter of a duke, an earl's daughter maintains her rank as a lady even if she marries a commoner. If she marries someone with a title, then she generally uses the rank she acquires through marriage, rather than the one she has from birth.
(Which reminds me -- someday we really must take up the discussion of whether "Princess Diana" was ever her real title -- even before her divorce!)
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