historical romance

Why Historical Romance?

annabowling 2 Comments

Hi. My name is Anna, and I write historical and historical-adjacent romance. We’ll get to the adjacent part in a minute. Right now, I want to focus on the big picture. Why historical romance? My first instinct is that I was hardwired that way. I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t drawn to times before living memory, though I will grant that, when one is five or so, everything falls into that category, by default. As for the romance part of things, I think I was hardwired for that, as well, because my favorite stories were always the fairy tales with a romance plot to them, even long before I had any inkling that the opposite sex could be anything even remotely close to appealing. I also preferred the more arguably obscure fairy tales, like “Donkeyskin” to any of the Disney versions (Sorry, Walt) and checked out an entire spectrum of Andrew Lang’s fairy tale collections (and wee princess me is now all, “hold on, there are more beyond the color-themed books? I must have them!” because, of course, I must.)

Though I didn’t know the concept of shipping back then, (again, five) in retrospect, I shipped Greek, Roman and Norse gods and goddesses, cartoon characters, and couples in fairy tales and folklore. I’ve often wondered if my birth mother liked romance fiction, too, if, maybe, we’ve ever read and loved any of the same books. I wouldn’t be surprised. Maybe romance, and storytelling, really is in my blood. I’ve written before about how much fun it is to listen to SF/F fans and writers talk about how they fell in love with their genre of choice, hear their origin stories, as it were, and I would love to shine more light on that same experience with readers and writers of romance, particularly historical. Let’s face it, historical romance rocks.

In the same book, we get a peek into the past, the chance to step into a world that we know existed (because, duh, history; we’ve got proof) and a story literally as old as time, and we know that there’s going to be a happily ever after at the end (or a happy for now, in serialized works) but the big question is…how? We know things weren’t as easy for those in the past as they are now; indoor plumbing is a relatively recent invention, and modern medical advances keep a lot of us on the right side of the dirt. That’s not even taking into account things like the internet, gummi bears, and Sephora. I love all of those things, and I’m glad I have them in my life, but when I’m going to dive into story world, nothing is ever going to do it the way historical romance does.

Whether or not actual historical figures come into play, the historical world is critical to the historical romance. How does the time in which these lovers lived affect their falling in love, and their chances for a future together? For my money, it’s not possible to take a couple from Ancient Rome, for example, plop them down in 1901 Texas, and have their love story play out exactly the same way. It can’t. The pieces of the puzzle are completely different, and yet, the objective is the same; finding that one person with whom they want to spend the rest of their lives and then making that happen, no matter what obstacles stand in their way. I’d be hard pressed to find a type of story I find more empowering than that. I can’t even count all the possible variations of setting, era, character type, plot trope, and a million other variables, all of which can be combined in countless ways. It really never is the same story twice.

Right now, those of us in the US, and elsewhere, but I’m in the US, so that’s where I can speak with most authenticity, live in interesting times. Since current events do affect writing and reading trends, I have asked myself if we’re headed for a surge in historical romance. A break from modern life may be exactly what some of us need to restore our resources, live a few adventures and come back, entertained and empowered, to handle the business of day to day life. Which, I should mention, is exactly what the heroes and heroines of historical romances are doing. They don’t know they’re in a historical; they think they’re in a contemporary, because Restoration England, or the American Civil War, Harlem Renaissance, etc? Those are their nows. They don’t know how their current events are going to turn out, if the war is going to go their way, if life will ever be the same again after disease or disaster upsets the routine they’ve always known up to that point. What they do know, however?

They do know love. They know, by the end of the book, that, whatever life throws at them from here on out, they won’t be facing it alone. They have someone by their side who is going to take them exactly as they are, for better and for worse, and they’re going to face it together. That sounds like a pretty good deal to me, and that’s why I do what I do.

Typing With Wet Claws: This Is the New Year Edition

annabowling 1 Comment

Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday. I did not want my picture taken today, so I tried to hide under my mama’s bed, but Anty was too smart for me and caught me before I could. That is why I look grumpy in this picture.  My revenge, though, besides looking grumpy, was that the lighting was very very dim, so Anty had to use all of her photo editing skills (she does not have a lot of them yet, but enough to be dangerous) to make sure the photo showed an actual kitty, and not only the black square that showed in the preview on her phone. Then she had to send the photo from her phone to the computer, which took some time. By the time it arrived, I was in the living room, sitting very nicely in a sunbeam in the middle of the floor. I believe this means I have successfully catted today, and deserve treats for my trouble.

Speaking of trouble, there is more of that, but I am not allowed to talk about it until I have talked about what Anty has written so far this week. So be it. Anty started off the new year (actually, ended the old one, because her posts on this site run on Saturdays, and this Saturday was New Year’s Eve, so not the new year yet) at Buried Under Romance by talking about reading resolutions. My resolution is to make Anty get rid of the carpet in her office, so that I can come inside and sit right next to her while she is writing or reading. Humans, especially those who do not live in our apartment, probably have different ones. That post is here, and it looks like this:

bur060117

Anty also put a review on Goodreads, for the historical romance anthology, Christmas in America. That review is here, and it looks like this:

christmasinamericareview

This book had some surprises for Anty, besides finding new authors whose other works she would like to read. One of those surprises was a funny one. After Anty wrote her review, Goodreads asked her if she would like to recommend the book to any of her friends. Since Anty liked the book very much, she did want to recommend it, and the site made some suggestions. Here is one of them:

christmasinamericarecommendsskyeedit

Anty thought that was funny, because Miss Piper wrote part of that book, so I think it is safe to say she already knows about it. (Anty checked; Miss Piper does.) I did not have permission from the other readers to post their names, so I blacked those out. I hope that is okay. Anty is now reading another book of Miss Piper’s, The Lawyer’s Luck, because she liked the story anthology so much, that she had to check and see where the stories in that world started. Anty already has a lot of books on her to be read list, but she does not mind adding more. Reading really, really good books is one way for writers to keep their wells filled and stay excited about the genre in which they write.

So far this year, Anty has been doing well on the writing front. She is using her planner to keep to a schedule. If she sees the tasks she has for the day, and for the week, written down, she is more likely to make sure that she accomplishes them. That is very helpful when life gets changey. It is getting changey over here because the building where our apartment is will be changing owners soon. That means that, because Anty works from home, she is there during the day, and can let in the realtor humans and their clients. It also means that I do a lot of hiding under the beds, because I do not like strangers coming into my home. I kind of know Landlady, though (the human who owns the building now) and, sometimes, I will come out if she is there. She tells me I am a good kitty. I think Landlady is very observant.

One other thing Anty is doing to keep her creative well filled is to listen to a lot of musical theatre, because musical theater songs tell stories. When she finds a composer/lyricist she especially likes, then she tracks down as much of their work as she can find and watches different performances of it. Her most recent find is Drew Gasparini, who wrote a song, “Disaster,” that Anty has been listening to, a lot. I mean so much that I think I know all the words to it. She recently found a video where Mr. Gasparini gives some advice to songwriters, and Anty thinks it applies to other kinds of writers, too. She was going to put a quote in her blog, but did not know where to cut it, so she asked if I could show everybody the whole thing. If there are gentle readers, or human kittens in the room, the actual song has some language that is only for grownups, but the talking, which comes first, does not.

Sometimes, it can be scary for a writer to throw everything on the page and let it bleed, but it can also be tiring to hold back. It is an interesting process to learn how to push past that scariness, but if that is what the story demands, then that is what Anty wants to do. That is what Anty wants to put into her stories. Critique partners can help keep Anty on track with that. At least that is the plan. Tomorrow, Anty will talk with Miss Eryka, to focus on some ways she can make sure that is exactly what she does.

The stranger humans came while I was in the middle of writing this entry, so I hid under Anty and Uncle’s bed. Anty had to lure me out with treat, which was not really extra, because it was my treat time anyway. I am not sure if this means I need yet more treat to make up for that. Anyway, that is about it for this week. Until next time, I remain very truly yours,

skyebye
Skye O’Malley Hart-Bowling
(the kitty, not the book)

 

 

The Year So Far

annabowling 2 Comments

Maybe three days is a wee bit soon to be looking at a year in review, but maybe it’s also a good way to make sure things are going according to plan. Monday, I planned my day to a fare-thee-well, though I did not put “take picture of planner page” on my to-do list, and my phone is, at the moment, at the other end of the house, so you’re going to have to take my word on that one. Having all my tasks laid out in advance actually felt like a huge relief. My critique session with N, on Tuesday, was right there, so, by gum, I was going to have pages to hand in to her.

Never mind that, as soon as I opened the file, the scene told me it wanted to open differently than the way I had it, and I didn’t have the description of the room right -I’d picked the wrong details, as one often does in a first draft- and this could be so much better. Cue furious typing, followed by furious backspacing, followed by more furious typing, followed by the uttering of indelicate language when Housemate’s arrival marked the end of the session, and it was time to wrap things up so we could head to the library to print (because I have reached the end of my abilities in trying to find what the heck the printer wants before it will cough up my pages, and it is now time to call in the pros.) Which is when we remembered the library would be closed, for the holiday. No problem, off to Staples we went. Awesome worker saw they were manuscript pages and told me not to worry about the cost. I take this as a sign. (Probably that she needed to help another customer, but allow me my  moment.)

Back when I lived in the Old Country, and attended a weekly critique group, when a crit went especially well, I would spend the ride home feeling as though I were flying. The same thing would happen when a once-upon-a-time friend and I would critique through snail mail. That this is why I am alive feeling, that isn’t followed by I’ll never do this or everybody else is better than me, but by mental self-fives and victory laps and a desire to do nothing else but get right back to that story as soon as humanly possible and go, go, go. That one. I had it again. Good feedback from N, who also has the start of a most excellent romance novel her own self, and it left me with that flying feeling, a good thing to have when I walked into a small domestic tornado, but no biggie. I got story going on here. Well, stories, but that’s not the important part.

The important part happened Monday afternoon, when I realized I’d missed a big opportunity to make Hero’s first appearance show who he was when the story started, and I had a ticking clock on how much time I had in which to fix that. Which is when the whole brain outlook thing shifts and forget everything else; I am fixing this scene clicks into place. The thing where the writer growls at family members who dare to interrupt, where “yes” or “no” both get substituted with “when I’m done with this scene.” Because, at that moment, the real world is that scene. I like when that happens.

Something else happened this week. When I checked yesterday’s mail, I found this literally on my doorstep:

beatrizwilliamsbook

That sound is my heart going pitty-pat, because Beatriz Williams is one of my all-time favorite authors, and this is an ARC of her newest trip back to the 1920s (and 90s,) The Wicked City. Double pitty-pat, because, along with the gorgeous period-perfect (these books are my historical verisimilitude goals) postcards, was a personal note:

beatrizwilliamsnote

I still haven’t decided if this is going in an art journal or in a frame on my office wall, but it’s inspiration in more ways than one. My very first exposure to the historical romance genre was Bertrice Small. Before her marriage to George Small, Bertrice Small was Bertrice Williams. I know there’s no connection. (Maybe Beatriz Williams read a Bertrice Small novel at some point; I don’t know. Maybe she hasn’t.)  Beatriz is a form of the name Beatrice (I am also a name nerd in addition to being a historical romance nerd; I have been collecting name books since I was eight) and Bertrice is a created name, to honor one of that esteemed lady’s beloved relatives. There’s not a connection, but there is, for me.

Both women are authors whose storytelling and ability to make the historical eras in which they write feel as real and immediate as the modern day. They do/have done what I want to do, give readers an entire world, populated by people of its time, and make them feel the story in a real and visceral manner, rather than observe it from afar. Like I said, goals. The name nerd in me likes that the two names are similar, and having a personal note, well, that’s extra special. Pretty sure, now, that this baby is going on the wall, over my desk, so I can see it every day.

Three days into the new year, I have a system in place that lets me know what I’m doing and the time I have in which to accomplish it. I don’t have to write a whole book (and a half) at one time, only this one scene, and I have my list of things the scene has to do, right here at hand. So far, so good. Now for the next 362 days.

Typing With Wet Claws: Christmas Eve Eve Edition

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Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday. Today is Christmas Eve Eve, the day before the day before Anty’s favorite day of the year. it is also the birthday of a fictional character that has lived in her head a really, really long time and probably wants to get into a book at some point. Anty thinks about things like this a lot. Today, Uncle is helping me hold still for my picture because I kept moving around when Anty tried to get the picture. I did not mind much, because that meant I got Uncle scritches. He gives the very best ones, because he is my Uncle.

Before I talk about anything else, like the fact that I peed on my catnip mouse -I did not actually pee on the mouse, but it did sustain collateral damage. I will talk about that later.- I have to talk about what Anty wrote this week, because that is our deal. As always, Anty has her Saturday Discussion post at Buried Under Romance. This week, her topic was the big books, the ones that don’t have to go on a coffee table because they could be the coffee table, they are that thick. Unless they are e-books, then they are a file, and I do not know of any coffee tables that are files. Except fot the ones in the Sims games, because those whole worlds are files. I think. Anyway, Anty’s post is here, and it looks like this:

 

burbigbooks

Anty likes big books and she cannot lie…

Speaking of big books, Anty read a couple more this week, and then wrote about them on Goodreads. One of those books was The Twelve Days of Dash and Lily, by Rachel Cohn and David Levithan. It is a YA book, and the sequel to Dash and Lily’s Book of Dares, which is one of Anty’s all time favorite YA books, and one of her favorite Christmas books, which means she was very happy to learn that this book existed, and even happier to read it. Her review can be found here, and it looks like this:

12daysdashlily

 

 

Anty also read Dark Champion, by Jo Beverley, which is a medieval historical romance. Jo Beverley only wrote four medieval novels. Most of her other books are Georgian, which Anty loves, and Regency, which is very popular, so having these medieval is a real treat for Anty. You can read her review here, and it looks like this:

darkchampionbeverley

Anty has also been working on her own books, of course, but I am not allowed to post parts of those here. That is for after they are done and published. Then that would be called “excerpts.” Writers like when people (and kitties, I assume) share excerpts of their work. Maybe I can do that with the books Anty already has out, in the new year.

Right now, it is still the old year, and Anty is getting ready to celebrate all that comes along with that, for humans and kitties alike. This is the part where I can talk about whatever I want. I will start with the catnip mouse part. Regular readers will know that I have special paws, so I do not climb or jump (I am okay, though, and I can walk and run and play perfectly fine.) I do not like to use a litterbox, because I do not like the sides, so I picked a special spot on the floor to do my liquid stuff, and that is the only place I do it. Ever. I am very consistent about that.

Because the house we live in was built a very, very long time ago, (if Anty wrote a book set in the year our house was built, it would count as a historical) the floors slant, and, sometimes, when I make my liquid stuff, it flows in a downward direction. That is what happened this time, and, this time, the catnip mousie Anty got me got caught in the flow. This was not a big deal to me, because I do not care about catnip, and I do not care about toys that do not move. If a toy is moving, the it is fun to catch it. If it is not, then meh. Where’s the challenge in hunting prey that is already dead? That is why Anty and Uncle are talking about getting me toys that move on their own, or with help from my humans. I will be interested to see what sorts of toys those are. I suppose I will find out on Christmas morning.

This is the part where I relate something in my week to the business of writing. That is one of the duties of a good mews, and I want to be a very good mews. What stands out to me most is the part about prey. Sometimes, a writer will have an idea that will only go so far. After it stops moving, and it will not start moving again, it might then be time for the writer to find something that is still alive and work on that. If a fictional character, for example, is still hanging around the writer’s head after double digit years have passed, that might be a good place to start. Right now, Anty has plenty that is moving on its own, but if she gets stuck after that, she will know where to look.

Anty says it is time to wrap things up because she needs the computer now, so I guess that is about it for this week. Whatever holiday you are celebrating (or have celebrated) this season, I hope that it is (or was) a good one. I will share all about ours next week. Until next week, happy holidays, and I remain very truly yours,

Skye O’Malley Hart-Bowling
(the kitty, not the book)

skyebye

 

Typing With Wet Claws: Happy Anniversary To Me Edition

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Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday. This is a very special edition, because yesterday was my ninth anniversary of getting adopted and becoming a pet. I was ten months old when Mama and Anty came to the shelter to get me. I had been living there since I was six months old. Before that, I was wild, because I was born that way. I did not stay that way, though, because the rescue people found me when I got hurt by a car, and they took care of me until my humans could find me. I did not know what was happening on my adoption day. The rescue humans put me in a carrier, like when they took me to the pokey place. I did not want to go the pokey place and see a vet, but that is not what happened.

What happened was that Mama and Anty came to the shelter. They did not know I was already in the carrier, so they talked about how much they wanted to meet the kitty they were going to take home. They talked about how Olivia, their other cat, had gone to Rainbow Bridge, and how sad they were because of that. I did not want these nice humans to be sad, because that made me sad, too. I was already sad, so that means I got sadder, but the story is not over there (obviously, because you are reading this.) The rescue humans showed Mama and Anty where I was, and then they got happy, because of me. They asked if I wanted to come live with them and if they could call me Skye. I think my response was something like, “um, okay?” because I still did not know what was going on, but other humans who came to take kitties to that home place were always happy. Happy humans are my favorite kind. One of the rescue humans helped put my carrier in Mama’s car, and Anty called Uncle at his work to let him know I was coming home. She told him other things, too, like what kind of kitty I was (Maine Coon, which I still am) and what color I was (brown tabby) and that I had a ginger spot on my head (it is the only orange fur on my whole entire me) and that I was scared but still a good kitty.

Everybody was very patient with me while I got used to being in my new home. Anty even thought it was funny when I tried to nurse on her toe (Anty says we miss one hundred percent of the shots we don’t take) and now it is one of her favorite Baby Skye stories. She says that adopting me crossed “Christmas kitten” off her bucket list (maybe that is one of the reasons “Skye Bucket” is one of her names for me?) but being adopted by my humans crossed “get a home” off mine. It is a good home.

It does not, however, get me out of talking about Anty’s writing (she let me go first this week because it was my adoptiversary.) As usual, Anty has her post at Buried Under Romance to share with you. This week, she talked about romance novels and related items as holiday gifts (if you have gifts yet to buy for reading friends, books are good ones. Especially Anty’s. Anty gets really happy when people buy her books.) That post is here: http://www.buriedunderromance.com/2016/12/saturday-discussion-the-gift-of-romance.html#comment-9289 and it looks like this:

bur121216

 

Anty also has a new post at Heroes and Heartbreakers, where she talks about six of the shippiest moments on This Is Us. Anty loves writing and she loves This is Us, so this was a fun piece for her to write. Is your favorite couple/moment listed? (My favorite moment was finding out that Clooney, the cat, was okay and even got extra pettings. I hope that was not a spoiler.) That post is here:

http://www.heroesandheartbreakers.com/blogs/2016/12/best-this-is-us-moments-of-season-one#comments and it looks like this:

 

handhthisisus

But can we really feel too much? Really?

Another thing Anty wrote about this week was something that helped her pursue three goals at the same time: reading more historical romance, feeling more Christmassy, and writing more about what she reads. That is all because she read My First Noel, by Danelle Harmon, who is a favorite author anyway, (and a very nice human, even if she does have dogs and a horsie. rather than cats.) This book was Miss Danelle’s first time writing in the inspirational genre. Anty was all over that from the concept alone. Her review is posted here:

https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1839106619?book_show_action=false&from_review_page=1 and it looks like this:

goodreadsharmonnoel

 

 

If you would like to see all of Anty’s reviews she posts on Goodreads, you can find them here: https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/8485744-anna?shelf=read. If you have read any of Anty’s books so far, and would like to write a review of them, or you are interested in reading them, you can find them on her “I Wrote It” shelf, which is here: https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/8485744-anna?shelf=i-wrote-it. Anty would like to say thank you to all the new Goodreads friends she made this week. She is always up for more Goodreads friends, and has plans to make her “I Wrote It” shelf bigger in the coming year. I will keep you all up to date on that front, as I am very dedicated to my duties as a mews.

That is about it for this week, so I will give the computer back to Anty so she can play with her imaginary friends, and make more books for you to read. Until next time, I remain very truly yours,

skyebye

Skye O’Malley Hart-Bowling
(the kitty, not the book)

 

Typing With Wet Claws: Reading Rambles Edition

annabowling 4 Comments

Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday. It is now almost exactly two weeks until Christmas. Anty has hopes the tree will be up before then (so do I; I do not climb it, like some kitties do, or sit underneath it like my predecessor, Olivia, did, but I like to look at it, because it has sparkly lights and shiny balls and I can imagine what I would do if I could get to it.) but Anty and Mama put the white lights around the doorways to the dining room and Uncle’s office, so it is starting to look festive around here.

It is also starting to sound very clicky around here. By clicky, I mean the sound the computer keys make when Anty pounds on them. With her fingers, that is, not a baseball bat. She only does that in her imagination when she is frustrated. That happens sometimes. The end of the year is coming (one week after Christmas, so that is soon) and that makes Anty want to clear her desk of writing obligations for 2016. She is already working on goals, especially regarding fiction. She would like to be both reading and writing more of it, which means I will have more to report on my days to blog. I like to be useful, so this is a good thing.

Before I go any farther (or is it further? Ha, ha, fur-ther. That is funny, because I have a lot of fur. Maybe that joke is funnier for kitties than for humans. Oh, well. Can’t win them all.) I need to tell you where you can read Anty’s writing this week. Her latest Buried Under Romance post is all about reading rituals. Do you have any reading rituals you observe? I highly recommend having a super fluffy kitty sleeping peacefully nearby, preferably with a full tummy from food and treats. That always makes the reading experience better. Especially for the kitty. If you would like to read Anty’s take on the matter, the post is here: http://www.buriedunderromance.com/2016/12/saturday-discussion-reading-rituals.html#comment-9267  and it looks like this:

 

burritual

What are your reading rituals?

 

 

Anty’s binge on Matthew Quick novels continues, as you can see in her review of The Silver Linings Playbook (only of the book; she has not seen the movie, and now is not sure if she wants to, because she researched the differences and she knows what they changed. Word of warning, do not get her started on the movie version of Paper Towns cutting out her two favorite parts, because she is never going to be over that. Trust me on this one.) here:

https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1832682800?utm_medium=email&utm_source=rating  and it looks like this:

grsilverlinings

Anty is now over halfway done with Love May Fail, which is told in four different parts, in four different viewpoints, all combining to make one story. Anty likes that kind of thing, and she very much likes the author’s voice (that is his writing voice, not his speaking voice, which she has never heard, so she cannot talk about that) and the kinds of stories that he tells. She would like to be reading more historical romance, and that will come, because that is still her favorite, but when she gets one of these urges to gobble everything by a new to her author, then she will follow that. Mr. Quick often has love stories in his novels, but because they are not genre romances, those love stories do not always have to end happily (but they can, and some of them do; the point is that they do not have to) nor are they always the focus.

In a genre romance, the love story does  have to be the main focus, and it does have to have a happy ending. That does not mean that the humans who fall in love never have anything bad happen to them ever again (that is a pretty naïve outlook, if you ask me; I have seen things) or that their story is over-over, and nothing interesting ever happens to them again (Anty and Uncle have been in love a long time, and interesting things happen to them all the time. For instance, they have a cat who can blog. I think that is pretty interesting.) What it does mean is that, no matter what happens in the future, the humans who are in love will have each other. They are together and happy to be that way. Believe it or not, that is the only requirement for a romance novel. The only one, seriously. That is why it puzzles me (and Anty) when people who do not read romance think that all romance novels are the same. That is not even close to being true.

Since Anty has been reading and writing romance for a long time now (three cats’ worth, including me; five, if we count Michelangelo and Francesca, who did not live with Anty, but whom she cat-sat on a regular basis) she is pretty familiar with how a romance novel goes. This year, she has been reading a lot of Young Adult fiction and general fiction by authors who also write Young Adult, because she likes getting some fresh voices in her head, and because she likes the edge many of these stories have. She would like to harness some of that and put it into her historical romances. (Note: I have been right there while she wrote the initial daft of Her Last First Kiss, and I think she is on the right tack for that particular goal.)

Suffice it to say (that is fancy human talk for Anty wants the computer back) that things are going to get very interesting, story-wise, around here, as Anty analyzes the books she is reading and takes from them things she would like to put into her own books. As a dedicated Mews, I will be sure to stay on top of this (figuratively, that is. I am a floor girl.) and let you know what is going on. I think there may be some surprises in store.

That is about it for this week, so, until next time, I remain very truly yours,

skyebye

Skye O’Malley Hart-Bowling
(the kitty, not the book)

Morning Pages, the Heir Presumptive, and the Young Pretender

annabowling 1 Comment

 

 

With one week left in my current, much-beloved morning pages book, the time has come to decide on which book will be its successor, and I’d like to say I’m closer, but a young pretender has entered the fray.  Going by only what I currently possess, the heir presumptive is this lovely bird and flower themed Punch Studio book:

Endpapers
Lined pages

 

That’s the endpapers in the first picture, internal pages in the second. Same images on all spreads, where I do prefer that they rotate. Banastre Lobster has no opinion on that.

Normally, the issue would be settled, but we have a young pretender to the throne, this spiral-bound Papaya! Art (the exclamation point is part of the name) gorgeousness, which would continue the Paris theme:

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Banastre must, of course, investigate.

My heart did a skippity-skip when I first saw this on the shelves at Barnes and Noble, and I don’t remember when the precious actually came home, but I knew I wanted to save it for something special. Since I still have absolutely zero ideas for any Parisian historical romances, morning pages would fit the bill. Inside pages are not lined, but are lovely.

First, we have this inside cover and first page, which presents a challenge when the discipline is one two-page spread for each day:

 

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Name and address on inside cover, obv, but facing page?

 

After that, we have these:

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None of the pages are lined, but those backgrounds…guh. Gorgeous. I want to put things on them. On the one hand, I think Hero would heartily approve of my appreciation of a pre-prepared background, because he used to do that kind of thing, but then again, his experience in Paris (hey, there is a connection!) was not exactly his favorite part of life. He wouldn’t know about the Eiffel Tower, though, as it was a century after his time. The clouds, though, and the design elements, those he knows, and the floral motifs fit nicely for a Georgian gentleman (and his lady.)

The question for me  here is, would the lack of lines be a problem? Also, what sort of pens do I want to use on these pages? They’re thicker than regular paper-paper, but not thick enough that I’d feel comfortable using Sharpies, at least not without an ink test, but I don’t want to sacrifice a page for that. Even so, the rotating designs excite me, and since I plan to increase to seven entries per week instead of six, that’s almost two rotations every week, but not exactly, so monotony would not be an issue. If the pages are visually inspiring, I am going to come to them with a better outlook, and, if stuck for what to put on the page, the images have suggestions right there. If I really need lines, I can draw them on with pencil and ruler. Fountain pens or rollerballs are my best educated guess on the pen issue. I’ve tried another book by this same maker, a different design in this line, with ballpoint, and I was so unhappy with that, that I set the book aside. Will need to resurrect that one, with a better selection of pen.

As I am writing this, I am listening to the Hamilton soundtrack. A writer friend will be traveling from Canada to NYC to see the show live this coming week. Right after the original cast departs, which does bring a pang, but, then again, there will be the energy of of the new cast making their debuts, and there will be the PBS documentary in October, and the original cast has been filmed, (I would totally go see this in theaters, if it were to be distributed that way) so it’s possible to get the best of both worlds there. I’ve been listening to the soundtrack, first as an Independence Day celebration (I know, Banastre, I know. Mama still loves you.) and then as part of my “immerse myself in the zeitgeist” plan of working through this draft.

Her Last First Kiss is set in England, in 1784, and Hero is not a soldier; he’s an artist, and he’s spent the pertinent years on the Continent (see Paris experience, above) so he’s pretty far removed from that business in the Colonies, but he does exchange letters with a cousin, relocated to Canada from New York, because expulsion of British and all that. Heroine is the product of a Russian father and English mother, was raised in England and identifies as British. These two have latched onto me in a way I’d been afraid I wouldn’t experience again after the time travel stalled, and I want to give them the very best story I can, which means I need to let their world seep into my writerblood.

The thing with writing historical romance novels is that the characters don’t know they’re in a historical. They think they’re in a contemporary. For Hero and Heroine, 1784 is their now. They aren’t wearing costumes; those are their clothes. People are people, no matter what century in which they do their people-ing, and that’s what I want to bring to live the most. If Hero were a 21st century person, he’d probably be glued to his phone, but he’s an 18th century person, so he carries around a portable lap desk so he can write letters and sketch/doodle. That was actually the first thing he showed me about himself, that desk. Writers, you understand how that works. Once he saw I was going to treat the desk right, then he came a little bit closer, like a stray cat when their benefactor moves the food dish an inch closer to the porch every day, until both cat and human are astonished that they are cuddling in the porch swing together.

If I were going to let Hero pick the new daily pages book, he’d pick the spiral bound. Which is, obviously, a lot thinner than the heir presumptive. Which may lead me to the same dilemma sooner, rather than later. I am not complaining.

 

There Are Lobsters on My Desk

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In case there is any doubt as to my lifelong case of raging Anglophilia, today’s picture should put that to rest. Paris-themed stationery aside (as in literally; I had to move my Marie Antoinette themed matchbook notepad out of the way to take this image) I’ve been hardwired for most things British straight out of the box, as far as I can remember. Don’t ask me when it began, because I have no idea, though I will allow that, by the time I was one year old, the family newly moved to a house in Bedford, NY, from Manhattan, our bottom-of-the-hill neighbors were Scottish immigrants. Shortly after that, my mom met her best local friend, a British  expat, who happened to have a baby my age (yes, our families met on a playground, why do you ask?) Very easy to guess, in this case, what sort of adults I saw most often on a regular basis in my formative years. I strongly suspect they imprinted on me, early, and with lasting impact.

While that probably explains my affinity for mentally hopping the pond, I lay the thankblame (which should totally be a real word) for historical romance being my soulmate genre at the feet of two aunts. Aunt L was my mom’s sister. She lived in New Jersey, and, every time she visited (we lived in CT by this time,) she would bring at least one paper grocery bag stuffed to the top with historical romance novels. I was too young to read them at this point, but it was still my job to take the bag directly to the laundry room, un-bag them, and set them aside for my mother’s later perusal. This was when I fell in love with some of the cover art in that first wave of historical romance. It was all painted back then, not photographs, every cover a tiny work of art. I read the blurbs, noted hero and heroine first names (I’ve been name-obsessed since I was about eight) and was a good kid, not looking into the forbidden pages, not even a little.

Well, kind of. Aunt S, wife to Uncle G, my dad’s best friend from their Army days, wrote one. Then two, then three, you get the drift. I went with Mom to the book section of Caldor, to peruse the rack and keep an eye out for Aunt S’s name. I don’t remember which one of us found it, but I remember how my heart did a skippity-skip when I saw it, then another when Mom took it out of the rack.  We were buying that book. We were taking it home. I have had that same feeling many a time, when lifting a much-desired book from its shelf, rack, box, hitting the download button, whatever, but this one…this one was the very first, and I knew, without knowing much about it, that this one would be special. I didn’t know it was going to change my life.

Even before Aunt S wrote her first book, even before (to my knowledge) Aunt L hauled grocery bags full of historical romance novels from NJ to CT (and it only now hits me that my mother and aunts were romance readers, and I never got to talk romance novels with them. I even remember mentioning something about a character from one of Aunt S’s books to Aunt G, another of Mom’s sisters, and her responding that she saw the character differently…you read at least one romance novel, Aunt G, and you never said.) I lived in Bedford, NY, during the Bicentennial (dating myself, I know, but I am fine with dating myself, because I always have a lovely time; I’m delightful.) As in town that was literally burned to the ground by the British Army during the war, except for one house. Home to a very lovely historical society I loved then and love now, and setting for my first historical romance, My Outcast Heart.

Dalby and Tabetha’s story takes place a  half century and change before the war, so they’d be opinionated seniors by that time, but it’s safe to say that, growing up around that much Revolutionary history, the Georgian age imprinted on me, as well. Maybe that’s why the Georgian period seems to be my historical default setting when I start a new novel. It’s not the only period I like – I’ve written sixteenth century, English Civil War, turn of the twentieth century romances so far, that are currently available, and I have hopes for my first medieval, but when it came time to start Her Last First Kiss, there wasn’t any doubt that it would be Georgian.

There aren’t any Redcoats (aka Lobsterbacks) in Hero and Heroine’s story, though they’ll likely find a few when they get where they’re going, but in future books, there absolutely will be. Ember and her Golden Man still rustle at me from the pages of notebooks and not-quite-right drafts, and I’m sure there will be other soldiers with tales to tell, so I will keep acquiring lobster-related items along with my Union Jacks and other related ephemera. For now, I’m head down, eyes on my own paper, for Hero and Heroine’s tale, which I can now get to, as I can cross “blog entry” off my list. Happy midweek!

 

Typing With Wet Claws: Delicate Balance Edition

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Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday. It is also a domestic tornado day, so I may have to write some of my blog now and some of it later. If I post later than usual today, that is why. Also, this is a really nice sunbeam, where I am sitting.

First of all, in case you missed it, Anty talked about medieval romance novels on Buried Under Romance this Saturday. Do you like medieval romance novels? Why or why not? Anty is very interested in this topic, and not only because she has a medieval romance gathering du…um, I mean in her portfolio.  She likes to read them, as well, so is always on the lookout for recommendations. The blog post is here and it looks like this:

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Saturday was a very big day for Anty, as she also got to recap last week’s episode of Outlander. Watching this show and writing the recap gave Anty a big boost, because they reminded her why she writes her particular brand of historical romance. That recap is here and it looks like this:

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In case you have not read any of Anty’s books and are wondering what kinds of stories she writes, there is an easy way to get a small peek. Anty (and I) currently has (have) four hundred and forty-nine followers. Anty would like to have four hundred and fifty. (She would actually like more than that, but she has to hit that number before she goes over it, so she wants that number first. ) If she (we) get one more, then Anty will post a piece of flash fiction here on the blog.

For the rest of this entry, I am going to paw it, because it is one of those days.  We are trying a different kind of cat treat this week, and by “we,” I mean me, because I have not seen the humans eat any of it. I think they know something. Probably that I am a kitty and they are not. Anty assures me that my regular treat will be back in a couple of days, and I can last that long. I will give you a secret: the different treat is not bad, and I am still eating it. Anty put a little bit of my regular treat into it, so that it would not be completely strange to me. I appreciate that.

This is not that different from writing. Even when a writer, like Anty, likes to try a few different things in their writing, there is usually something that is the same, so loyal readers will recognize that this is the same writer, and the experience is not completely strange. So far, Anty has written stories set in Colonial New York, turn of the twentieth century England and Italy, sixteenth century Cornwall, and both the Isle of Man and Charles II’s Court in Exile in the Netherlands at the end of the English Civil War. She has written a medieval novella, which is currently looking for a home, and Her Last First Kiss is set in Georgian England. The story she and Anty Melva are writing together is set in the modern day, but is historical romance adjacent, so Anty is not lost wandering in unfamiliar territory. (Anty is not all that comfortable writing completely in the modern age.)

When Anty and Anty Melva first began blowing up the Beach Ball, to use their term, they both wanted to make sure that each of them had one foot in familiar territory, as well as exploring new ground. Anty Melva is most comfortable writing contemporary, and Anty is fully aware she was hardwired for historical romance right out of the box. Anty loves a grand sweep within her historical romance, and Anty Melva likes a touch of suspense. Finding the right balance between the preferences and/or natural bents of two different writers sometimes takes a few tries to find the right ratio, but, so far, Anty and Anty Melva seem to be doing all right. That is the same as how putting a little of my regular treat into the new treat. It is nice to try something a little different once in a while (that is how I found out I like mushy beef cat food; now, I get that on special occasions, and my regular food every day.)

Finding new flavors to put into her writing is something Anty likes to do every so often. She doesn’t always know she is looking for a new flavor, but when she finds one that works for her, she likes to dive into it and experience as much as she can. She had a taste of that this past week, when she watched a lot of Outlander, and started in on a new-to-her Jo Beverley novel, in honor of Miss Jo’s passing. Miss Jo wrote mostly Georgian and Regency novels (Anty has read most, if not all of the Georgians, and some of the Regencies) but also wrote four medieval romances, and she loves Miss Jo’s work, but has never read any of Miss Jo’s medieval romances before, so that is something new, within something familiar. That is something Anty likes to keep in mind when she is writing, as well. It is a delicate balance, a challenge for sure, but also part of the fun.

That is also about it for this week. Until next time, I remain very truly yours,

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Until next week…

Skye O’Malley Hart-Bowling
(the kitty, not the book)

 

 

 

Lush

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Romance is not about happy people in Happy Land, but courageous people in We Love Each Other Land.

–Grace Burrowes

 

Another Monday, another new week. I have no idea what I want to say in today’s blog entry, but it rankles that I still owe Wednesday’s post from a week (or two?) ago, and the stubborn, schedule-loving part of part of me is not going to create any more of a backlog than I already have, because such things annoy the heck out of me. All of which means you’re getting the rawest of brain droppings today, and fingers crossed that it actually goes somewhere. Only way to find out is to plunge ahead and find out what happens.

Right now, I am ensconced in my comfy chair, next to an open window, Skye curled in a ball at my feet, sound asleep.  Mary Chapin Carpenter’s “Something Tamed Something Wild” is playing on my earbuds, while I plan out how I’m going to tackle the day. I know the things I want to get done, and I know the time in which I have to do them, and I know that I do best when I give my eyes a break and switch between digital and analog throughout the day. This past weekend, I had the opportunity to recap season two, episode seven, of Outlander, “Faith,” for Heroes and Heartbreakers. It is here, and looks like this:

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Skye will no doubt have something to say about this on Friday.

 

To say that this episode hit me like a brick is an understatement. If I could breathe this episode, I would, because there is so much in there of what I want to bring to the pages of my own work that, even though a good chunk of my brain had to be focused on taking notes so that I could capture the salient points for the recap, the rest of it skipped happily through the angst and the opulence (possible book title in there?) of the costumes, the setting, the soul-crushing loss and the love that pulled it all back from the brink of despair. Yes. This. Oh so very much this that, two days after viewing and recapping, parts of me are still back there. It’s not a nice story, not a pretty story, and yet it’s beautiful.

That kind of stuff makes my blood tingle. The books I love the very best, both to read and to write, have bad things happen to good people, sometimes very bad things, and yet…and yet the love is bigger. It’s stronger. It’s beaten sometimes, bruised sometimes, dragging itself along by broken fingernails sometimes, but it’s alive, and it’s not going away. That’s one of the requirements of a romance novel, and it’s going to be there, whatever other flavors the author tosses into the mix.

This week, when I whined to another writer friend about being at the “I hate this, I can’t write, I should give up” stage, I got a reality check. Friend laughed at me, and reminded me that writing super-super detailed is something I do, it’s part of my style, so quit fighting it and do what comes naturally. That’s not going to change. Write. Tell the story. Tell my characters’ story. Tell it my way. Put in the details. Describe stuff. Work the angst. I should note that this is advice I find incredibly easy to give, but, when it comes to taking it, I need a lot of repetition. One of these days, I’ll get it.

What I do know for sure is that, when I try to rein myself in, I’m miserable, and it shows in the writing, or the lack thereof, (usually that one) but when I slap the duct tape on the mouths of the Hypercritical Gremlins and dive headlong into the angst and the opulence, that’s when I feel like I’ve come home. Still learning to trust myself in this whole writing of fiction thing, but the best way out is through, and so I have pretty legal pads and fountain pens and colored ink and if my “black on white” is actually “purple on paisley,” that’s not a bad thing.

My very favorite moment from the Meat Loaf (the singer, not the food) biopic is when he and musical partner, songwriter Jim Steinman, pitched one of their early efforts to a record producer, the reaction is first, silence, then the explanation that most songs have a verse and a chorus, maybe a bridge. These guys’ songs  have bridges and tunnels and aqueducts. I want to write aqueducts, and so, those are what I need to be taking in. Something I’ve known for a while now, but, as above, something that also needs repeating, as does the actual writing. The more I write, the more aqueducts I get to build, the more movies I get to play in my head. The more lives I get to lead. Not a bad thing to start a new week.