Romance Writers Weekly: February 17, 2015

Seems old man winter is hitting a lot of us with a wallop this past week. It's not nearly as bad here as in the Maritimes and New England, but it's cold and white and the perfect time to think about getting away. Must be why A.S. Fenichel asked us to write about our favourite vacation spot, whether it's somewhere we've been, or somewhere we long to be. 

Well, that's a hard one for me, because I suffer from a serious case of wanderlust. My two stand out vacations have been to China and Ireland.

Ireland is a place I've longed to see since the womb, I think. And this past summer we went. It was great, but I have to confess to feeling that part of my adult fear of visiting Ireland did come true. It was a lot like home. In fact, I found myself taking pictures of landscapes that were downright Newfoundland in their appeal. Of course, that doesn't mean I didn't love my trip there. I'd move to Ireland in a heart beat, truth be told, just because of the million tiny things that tugged at my heart strings. Or maybe I'd buy a small cottage there and use it as a retreat. It's just a small four hour hop across the ocean. I'd get to Ireland by plane faster than I'd get to Vancouver or San Francisco. 

This does not look like Newfoundland

But we have coastlines like this. 

And we have lots of ground like this!

China, on the other hand, was a complete out-of-the-blue vacation decision. The stars aligned to give us cheap airfare, and a very generous cousin who happened to be living in Beijing at the time. That trip blew my mind. It knocked down so many preconceived notions of whatIi thought China would be. And let me tell you, hiking up to the Great Wall was no small task. Perhaps the most amazing thing for me was seeing the juxtaposition of luxury and poverty. It was hard to reconcile the two. I wish we'd seen more of China than Beijing, but that city was so large that it took up the entirely of our two weeks. 

So what's next for us in terms of travel? That's hard to say. We kind of let time and circumstance dictate where we go next. Although, I do love cruises. Mainly because I love boats, and food. One thing thats certain is that we want to take our wee one with us. I think it's important that he sees the world, and so far he's proven to be a champion traveller!

Well, that's it for me today. I'm face and eyes into writing, and promoting my new box set that released today! And there's a novel in there about a cruise, so how awesome is that? Click on the cover and you'll go right to Amazon. :)

Passionate Kisses 2 Boxed Set: Love in Bloom

Buy on Amazon

Now enough of me. How about taking a quick trip over to Fiona Riplee's blog to see where she's going, or where she's been! 

Hopefully in these posts you'll think of some new places to escape to! Bon Voyage! 

Historical Wednesday: February 4, 2015

Welcome back! This week I'm so happy to have my friend J.J. Devine on the blog. J.J. is sharing not only what it takes to write about cultures that are different from the writer's (she writes about Native America cultures), but she also shares with us how helpful a good set of primary research materials can be, so long as you're making sure to cross-check your references. So sit back and enjoy J.J.'s approach to writing historical romance! Thanks so much for coming out today, my friend. 

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Thank you so much, Victoria, for having me here today. For those out there who have no idea who I am, my name is J.J. Devine and I write historical and historical/paranormal romance. Today I will be touching base on the research that goes into writing my Acceptance Series, which takes place in the Wyoming Territory.

The Cheyenne Bride is the first in my series and sets the stage for the rest of the books that follow, Destiny’s Price, Passionate Pursuit, Jessie’s Revenge, Shadows of the Heart, and two more which have yet to be started. 

I was fortunate years ago to happen upon a wonderful great condition encyclopedia set that today are 111 years old. The historical detail of these monster size books is truly amazing. I use them for all my research and cross-check facts from internet research. Their detail for terrain, crops, industry, and detailed maps have been worth their weight in gold.

Writing books which delve between cultures takes a good deal of research. Whether or not all of one’s research is used or not, an author needs to connect with the worlds they are writing. When writing The Cheyenne Bride, I spent a good deal of time discussing Cheyenne culture with those who know it much better than myself, Native American friends. I wrote to a council who were working on bringing back the Cheyenne language that had all but disappeared from Native American children being rehabilitated in white schools. Not allowed to even speak their native tongue, hold onto their religious beliefs, or even go by their Native American names. This made me very grateful for the times we live in today versus that of the 1700s and 1800s.

I spent a good deal of time researching and learning about Native American herbs and the natural arts of healing, to better bring to life my character, Nichole Michaels (White Deer to the Cheyenne) who’s Cheyenne grandmother, nishki, was the tribes medicine woman.

When I began the research for Passionate Pursuit, third in the series and Sam Davis’s story, which takes place with his heroine, Rae Black, following him after Sam had purchased cattle from her father on a ranch in Texas. I thought, why not, cattle drives are something that took place in the old west all the time.

Imagine my surprise when I found out there was this little thing (not so little really) called, Texas Cattle Fever, prohibiting cattle from the south to be moved past the Mason Dixon line unless it was between November 15 to February 15. Texas Cattle Fever was a disease transmitted from an infected cow to a healthy cow by way of ticks. So the cooler time of the year north of the Mason Dixon would kill off the ticks before the herd was introduced to the herds in the northern part of the Country.

Another interesting fact I learned when researching Passionate Pursuit was not all Cheyenne are the same. There were Northern Cheyenne and Southern Cheyenne. When the Northern Cheyenne were placed on the same reservations as the Southern Cheyenne in the south, the Northern Cheyenne began dying off. A new reservation was then opened in Montana.

I love writing historical romance and especially historical romance that takes place in the Old West. Times were wild but could you imagine the beauty of walking out on your front porch each morning, watching the sun come up over the mountains, feeling the cool mountain air on your face as you lift your eyes to the heavens?

If you would like to know more about me and my writings please feel free to find me here:

Author Links:

Website:

http://definingjjdevine.weebly.com/

Blog:

http://definingjjdevine.weebly.com/ramblings-of-a-writer.html

Facebook:

https://www.facebook.com/JJDevineAuthor?ref=ts&fref=ts

Twitter:

https://twitter.com/JjDevine2010

tsu:

https://www.tsu.co/JJDevine

google+:

https://plus.google.com/u/0/+JJDevine/posts

Amazon:

http://www.amazon.com/J.J.-Devine/e/B009P8P3PU/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1422394904&sr=8-1

Author Bio

Reading and writing have been J.J.'s passion her whole life.  Starting out with being the poet, everyone came to in high school to get that "perfect" poem for his or her boyfriend/girlfriend.  She spent her weekends locked away in her room, curled up on her bed, writing short stories for only a selected few readers.

She has been happily married for 28 years to her trucker husband.  She is a mother of three, grandmother of three; a lover of dogs, cats, and fish. 

J.J. started to pen historical romance as a hobby when her youngest child was a year old, creating the Acceptance Series.  She got serious about her writing career joining Romance Writers of America and Indiana Romance Writers of America moving on to help start Crossroads Romance Writers in 2014.  She penned her first paranormal romance, Into the Darkness, in 25 days, taking herself beyond her comfort zone and just giving the characters free reign of their story.   

Since taking herself out of the outside working world, she has dedicated her life to her writing and her writing world and raising consciousness for Domestic Violence Awareness.  

Excerpt for The Cheyenne Bride:

One Wolf paced the fence line like a caged animal. He should just bust down that door, rip White Deer from that man’s arms, and take her far away from here.

She should never have gone to the fort, never have found her way to the Bar D, to Chris Davis. Why had he been stupid?

The opening of the cabin door drew his attention. The cover of darkness hid him from view, but he could see her basking in the moonlight. Never had she looked more beautiful. Her dark hair flowed down her back. The doeskin dress molded to every perfect curve.

His body reacted, as it always had, growing hard and rigid. The taste of her lips filled his mouth, the innocent tenderness of her tongue against his own.

Damn, Chris Davis.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, drawing her attention.

“One Wolf, where have you been?” She glided down the steps coming toward him. His heart picked up its pace. Every part of his existence ached to claim his woman.

“You know where I have been, White Deer. Or have you forgotten the tribe you have wanted to belong to since you were a girl?” He spit the bitter words from his lips.

“I see you have now become this white man’s whore.” He nodded toward the cabin door. “I thought you had more pride.”

He grabbed her by the arms, pulling her inches from his face. “Is this what you want?”

“One Wolf, this life is my mother’s vision for me.”

“And your nish ki’s knowledge of your life had nothing to do with a white man.” He reminded her angrily.

“One Wolf, let her go.” Chris’s angry voice filled the night air.

“I asked you to do that once, Chris Davis. Did you not refuse?” His eyes never left hers as he roared his resentment.

“White Deer belongs to me now.” Chris’s tone was livid.

One Wolf threw his head back, a wicked laugh coming from somewhere deep inside him. “White Deer is it now? Only months ago, you could not accept the Cheyenne blood that runs through her veins. Are you telling me now you can accept that blood?”

One Wolf spun her around to face her lover, gripping her shoulders against his palms. “Look at her! Does she belong in your world? She dresses like us. She speaks our tongue. She is her mother’s daughter. She will please her husband as Cheyenne women please theirs. Is this what you want?”

Anguish strained Chris’s face as his eyes fixed on the image he was painting for him. With White Deer in his arms, shoving the truth back into this white man’s world, even Chris couldn’t deny where she truly belonged.

“One Wolf, let me go,” Nichole ordered, pulling hard, she gained her release.

“Chris and I are working to build a life together. You must learn to accept this.”

One Wolf laughed again. “Accept what I know is not right. He cannot even answer a simple question. Sure, he allows you to dress as one of us. He even calls you by your Cheyenne name. But can he truly say, in his heart, he accepts the Cheyenne blood in your veins?”

“How is he any different than you, who only wishes to see the Cheyenne half of my heritage?” One Wolf grabbed her up once again, pulling her roughly against his chest. Chris sprang into action. He ripped Nichole from his grasp, shoving him away from her.

“One Wolf, White Deer could be carrying my child, you’ll not touch her again.”

“A child she should be having of mine!” He shouted. The words penetrated his heart so deep, it felt like a hot knife twisting into his flesh.

“No, One Wolf, it was me her mother envisioned for her, not you.”

One Wolf laughed again. “You speak of visions as if you believe in them. Do you remember I have known you for many years?”

“She belongs to me, One Wolf.”

“Stop this,” Nichole ordered. “Do either of you care what I want? You both claim to love me, but do either of you care that this tears me apart inside? To see two men, who once claimed to be friends, go at each other like two dogs over a bone?”

“Chris, you must understand this is hard for both One Wolf and I. We’ve spent many years as friends, we’ve shared much of our life, and yes, at one time I fancied myself his wife.”

She turned to One Wolf. “But now, One Wolf, you must understand, with Chris is where I belong. I know this in my heart, as sure as I know you and I will always share our past. I have given myself to him as a woman gives herself to her husband.”

“There was a time when you were going to give to me this same honor, or have you forgotten?” The ground felt as if it were slipping from his feet. He had let this go too far. Now, it seemed, he had lost the only woman he would ever love.

“I haven’t forgotten,” she said softly. “But it wasn’t meant to be. Can’t you see this? We’re meant only to share our lives as friends, nothing more.”

Her words finished, shattering his heart. The pain in his chest was more unbearable than anything he’d ever felt before. He stared into those lovely dark eyes, and knew she believed what she said.

One Wolf turned on Chris.

“If you hurt her, I promise you, as I told you before, I will kill you,” he growled. “She deserves the acceptance she seeks. If you cannot give it to her, then I beg you now let her go with me. I can heal her heart.”

Something in the form of guilt flashed from Chris’s eyes, giving a short-lived hope to his heart. The moment Chris wrapped a protective arm about her shoulders, One Wolf knew he didn’t stand a chance against the one thing tying her to her mother. A vision.

His tone grew softer, as his eyes locked and held hers. “White Deer, I give you what you wish, in hopes one day you will come to me with the knowledge it is our hearts which belong together. It is something I have always known, and one day I know you will see it, too.”

He reached out, brushing the back of his hand against the soft skin of her cheek. His eyes drifted closed, as he took in the feel of her. “Nemohotatse, my little warrior.”

He left the couple standing in the darkness, his heart in turmoil. No matter what she told him, he would love her until his dying breath. For only when his heart stopped beating, would his love for her die.

Romance Writers Weekly: February 3, 2015

Is it wrong that I'm giddy about today's post? Why, you ask? Because this week's question from the incomparable Brenda Margriet has posed a question that I adore: How do you choose the setting for your book? Does where you live inspire you? 

Does it? Ha. If this is your first time time my blog you won't know this, but I set all of my books in Newfoundland, which is where I live. I don't do this simply because it's a place I'm familiar with. I do it because I believe Newfoundland and Labrador is one of the most romantic places on Earth. I do it because I want the world to know what about a half a million of us know: That there's something different and magical and inspiring about this wind-swept coastline of ours. To say I'm a proud Newfoundlander is sort of like saying Richard Simmons likes tight shorts. I think both of our feelings go much deeper. 

But let's really dig into the why. Here are some essential things to know about this place. I'll start with a map so you know what I'm talking about. 

Newfoundland is that awesomely shaped island with a lot of black on it. Labrador, which is also part of our province, is the other awesomely shaped land to the north, also black. This black means that it is very sparsely populated. So the first thing you learn is that Newfoundland is big (about the size of California), and we have hardly any people here. (Our official population for the entire province, including Labrador is 500,000.) You can see that most of the people live on the coast, and the majority of those live all the way over on the east coast, near St. John's, which is our capital city. I grew up in St. John's. I now live about a half hour away. 

This means that we have a lot of undeveloped land, a lot of coastline, a lot of woods (which means a lot of wildlife) and a lot of room for the imagination. If you read Hard As Ice, there's a scene where Daphne and Jack drive from the west coast to the east coast. It takes them about 10 hours. It's a long drive from one end to the other. I loved writing that scene because it was a fun way to show distance here. Plus, they had some great dialogue. Let me share a snippet. 

“It took another hour but when they picked Ida up from the hospital, Jack was sure she’d be comfortable in the spacious backseat of the brown Chev. That was before Daphne got on the open road. The woman drove like a demented race-car driver. At this rate they’d be home in five hours.
He tried to bite his tongue but when she pulled out to pass three transport trucks, his nerves just couldn’t stand it any longer.
“Sweet Jesus, woman. Are you trying to get me and Ida killed?”
She blanched. “No.”
“Then slow down.” He knew he’d raised his voice, but he’d never truly been this terrified in a car before.
“I’m not going that fast.”
“No, one hundred and forty is perfectly reasonable. For a drag racer.”
“It’s this truck. It has too much power. It keeps speeding up. And these hills don’t help.”
“Most people would ease off the gas going downhill, or even use the brakes.”
“Well, thank you for the driving lesson,” she said, her voice clipped.
They’d left the eighteen-wheelers far behind, and she’d slowed to a hundred and twenty kilometres per hour. He’d feel better if she were going closer to one-ten.
“I don’t know what the roads are like where you live, but here we have to watch out for things like moose, and potholes, and cops.”
She started to laugh. “You’d be hopeless driving in Britain. Your roads are so wide. Then again, a vehicle like this wouldn’t be able to handle them all that well.”
“Well, this isn’t Britain. It’s Newfoundland. And wide roads exist for a reason. So that we don’t crash into maniac foreign drivers.” He thought he smiled enough to show he wasn’t entirely serious. Although he was.
”

— Hard As Ice

Another scene that came from real life for me was in Against Her Rules. There's a part of the book where Elsie has taken Cam out in a boat onto the ocean so that he can sketch some seabirds.Here's what she does.

“Looming out of the water was a huge jagged rock, about the height of a ten-storey building. Overhead a myriad of birds swooped and crested in the wind. He hadn’t noticed the sound over the motor, but now it was all around them. A cacophony of the soft purring uurrr’s of turrs underlay the screeching of the herring gulls and a hundred more varieties of birds.
It was both frightening and awe-inspiring at the same time.
“Get ready for this,” she said, pulling a small white bucket out of the pack.
“Holy shit. What is that?”
The reek that came out of the bucket was putrid.
“Fish guts,” she said, tossing them overboard.
The first bird to spot the bait, a small puffin, dropped from the sky in a death-defying dive, plunging beneath the water, presumably spearing a treat as he dove. At least Cam hoped the poor thing did, given its tenacity.
It was followed quickly by another, a gull this time, he thought. And then another and another until it was raining birds, and feathers. If one bird was lucky enough to have speared some food, another tried to steal it from its beak. It was awesome and terrifying all at once.
”

— Against Her Rules

This happens. It's happened to me. Quite often I go out fishing for cod with my Dad. On our way in from fishing, he'll start to clean the fist, tossing the offal into the water. Here's a photo of how the birds react to this disgusting buffet.

That's my hubby steering the boat and my dad cleaning the fish. My editor was on this trip, and she took the photo. Trust me, when she was editing Against Her Rules, she didn't question that scene at all! 

I could go on forever about this place and how it inspires me. But I'd like for you to go visit all the other authors who are taking part in today's blog hop, so I'll stop here. Elizabeth Janette is next. I'm not sure where she's from, so let's go together and find out how she answered these questions! 

Romance Writers Weekly: January 27, 2015

Ahhhh. Back in the good old RWW groove. I couldn't pass up the chance to take part in this week's blog hop because we are talking about first lines. Here's the challenge issued to us this week. 

Great Beginnings - A great opening line draws the reader in, makes them want to know more and compels them to read further. Share a great opening line, can be a classic or a more recent novel, tell us why you like it and then share the opening line to your newest WIP.

This task was harder than it sounds. Oh sure, I could have googled famous first lines and stolen one there that seemed wonderful. But instead, I went to Amazon and started searching out some of my favourite books and authors to see which of them had a truly great first line. 

It's a funny thing, really, because I have a method of shopping in bookstores. Let's say I've collected twelve books and I can only afford to buy two of them. Who makes the cut? Normally the book with the best first paragraph wins for me. But first lines. That's harder. It's amazing how many great books have boring or non-compelling first lines. Most of my absolute favourite books didn't make it to this post because of blasé first lines (sorry Catherine Cookson. You books rock but your first lines do not.)

So here are my top three (okay. There may be better ones but I got tired of searching Amazon, so these ones win!) 

Ahhh, Gone with the Wind! You wonderful book you. Margaret Mitchell didn't disappoint. What gets me about this first line is that MM starts the book with the fundamental point of the story: Scarlett gets what she wants because men fall into her trap all to easily. I love it! A+ for hooking me at the start.

Okay. Maybe the power of this first sentence is in what's revealed in the second, but still, it's a great first sentence. Short. Punchy. Makes the reader curious. This is from Jasper Fforde's awesome novel, The Eyre Affair. If you love books, love Jane Eyre, love Withering Heights, love Great Expectations, love fantasy, love Sci-fi, love romance, love reading awesomely imagined books, then get this one. It rocks! 

Isn't this a great one? I so desperately wanted to have a Terry Pratchett book make the cut, and right away I went for my very favourite one: Hogfather. And Mr. Pratchett never disappoints me. What a great first line this is. And it's a paragraph too. I know for a fact that I bought Hogfather because of this line. I can still remember standing in the bookstore with a stack of Discworld novels trying to decide which ones got to go home with me that day. Now, this book might have one anyhow because it stars my favourite of all Pratchett's characters (Death) but this is still a great line.

So there you have it. My top three of the day. 

Of course the other part of this challenge was to look at my current WIP and share my opening line. Hmmmm. Perhaps I need to work on it a bit more. What do you think?

Now make your way over to my friend and awesome author Xio Axelrod to see what she has to say. And for the record, her new release "The Callum" has a pretty wicked opening line itself. Here it is! 

Historical Wednesday: January 21, 2015

My apologies today to both Sarah Hegger and you for being a week off schedule. Like half of the universe, it seems, I was hit by that holiday flu. But I'm on the mend, and Sarah's guest post has had a week to percolate happily in my inbox. I'm very excited to have the wonderful and funny Sarah Hegger on the blog today. Sarah is both a contemporary and historical romance author (YAY!) and this week she's sharing her tale of researching the city of London, which is, in many historicals, a character unto itself. Thanks for coming by Sarah!

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Hi Victoria, we look forward to welcoming you to the historical fold. Like you, I write in both historical and contemporary, and I love being able to time jump between the two. My latest historical, Sweet Bea, a medieval romance, is actually on sale now for 99cents in all formats.

I’m not really sure how I ended up in medieval, as I had visions of being the modern day Georgette Heyer, but there has always been something about the rough, tough and grittiness of medieval times that fascinated me. The church played a leading role in everyone’s lives, but this was before etiquette and social affectations governed behavior and it pretty much was survival of the fittest.

I set myself an interesting challenge with Sweet Bea. Beatrice and Garret race to London—along with Bea’s friend Tom and assorted stragglers they pick up along the way—to warn Bea’s father that the family is in danger.

This was the time just before the Magna Carta was drawn up and the barons had taken London with their Army of God in opposition to King John. Bea’s father, Sir Arthur, was one of these rebel barons for the purposes of my story.

So, I have the group racing for London, and I stop. Medieval London was so not modern London. Stating the obvious, I know, but questions started to circulate.

It began my fascination with medieval London, and it was an amazing place. Parts of it are still standing in modern day London, if you can believe that. 

The city has been called “The Great Wen” by William Cobbett, a passionate ruralist who disparaged the city, and later, “The Big Smoke” for her suspect air quality. But London has always been an amazing city.

I stumbled across a wonderful book by Peter Ackroyd called “London: The Biography” and it traces the history of the city from ancient times right through to London today. If you have a tendency to get lost in the past and keep following one little trail after another, like I do, this is a great book.

This is a little of what I discovered:

Medieval London, did have walls, and was much smaller than the current city, which now incorporates the city of Westminster. At Sweet Bea’s time, the cities of Westminster and London were separated and the easiest way between them was the Thames.

London at the time I wrote her, was marked by the monasteries at her boundaries with the Tower of London on her eastern edge.

Sadly, the old London Bridge, the one Sweet Bea would have crossed was pulled down by the ever efficient Victorians in 1831, which was a great pity on some ways. It was a hive of activity, with buildings and whatnot stacked all along its span. The bridge was 26 feet wide, and 800-900 feet long and by 1358 (years after Sweet Bea) had about 138 shops along its span. There was a drawbridge in the center for tall ships and defensive gatehouses at both ends. And apparently at least one, multi-seated public latrine overhanging the parapets and discharging into the river below. There were also a number of private latrines (doesn’t really bear too much thinking about).

This bridge wasn’t the origin of the children’s rhyme London Bridge is Falling Down though. That bridge came before even this one. The one Sweet Bea crosses was actually completed in 1209 and had taken 33 years to complete. 

The rebel barons and their Army of God occupied London but many of them based themselves at Westminster Palace. The current Westminster Palace is the Houses of Parliament. The old one, the one Sir Arthur was staying in, is also and very sadly, long gone.

London was dirty, busy, extremely smelly and for those times packed with people. Interestingly enough even then it was a city filled with people from all over. Traders and merchants from far away worlds made their way up the Thames to trade in London.

London is probably my favorite city in the world. Spending time in medieval London only made her more interesting for me. I’m going to leave you with those immortal words by Samuel Johnson:

“When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life; for there is in London, all that life can afford.”

Is anything sweeter than revenge?

Curious about Sweet Bea? Here's a morsel for you. 

In a family of remarkable people, ordinary Beatrice strives to prove herself worthy. When her family is threatened with losing everything, she rushes to London to save them. Unfortunately, she chooses as her savior the very man who will see her family brought low.

Garrett has sworn vengeance on Sir Arthur of Anglesea for destroying his life when he was a boy and forcing his mother into prostitution for them to survive. He has chosen as his instrument Sir Arthur's youngest daughter, Beatrice.

Can Beatrice’s goodness teach Garrett that love, not vengeance, is the greatest reward of all?

 

About Sarah Hegger

British and raised in South Africa, Sarah Hegger suffers from an incurable case of wanderlust. Her match? A hot Canadian engineer, whose marriage proposal she accepted six short weeks after they first met. Together they’ve made homes in seven different cities across three different continents (and back again once or twice). If only it made her multilingual, but the best she can manage is idiosyncratic English, fluent Afrikaans, conversant Russian, pigeon Portuguese, even worse Zulu and enough French to get herself into trouble.

Mimicking her globe trotting adventures, Sarah’s career path began as a gainfully employed actress, drifted into public relations, settled a moment in advertising, and eventually took root in the fertile soil of her first love, writing. She also moonlights as a wife and mother.

She currently lives in Draper, Utah, with her teenage daughters, two Golden Retrievers and aforementioned husband. Part footloose buccaneer, part quixotic observer of life, Sarah’s restless heart is most content when reading or writing books.

She loves to hear from readers and you can find her at any of the places below.

Website

Facebook

Twitter

Historical Wednesday: January 7, 2015

I took a blogging break over Christmas, but how great it is that today's post is about a symbol of Christmas and hope? Today's guest blogger is the wonderful Jennie Marsland. Not only is she a talent author (seriously, look at her Amazon page, her books rock and her covers are breathtaking!) but she knows her history as well. Thanks so much for coming out to chat today about Halifax and Boston. 

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Vicki, thank you for having me on your blog today!

Just before Christmas, I published the third book in my ‘Winds of War, Winds of Change’ series, set in my hometown of Halifax, Nova Scotia, during and after World War 1. The first two stories, Shattered and Deliverance, include a pivotal event in Halifax’s history, while the third, Flight, takes place as war gives way to the brave new world of the 1920s.

I find this time period fascinating because of the sweeping changes – social, moral, technological – that took place during those years.  Nowhere were those changes felt more deeply than here in Halifax. As the foremost point of departure for personnel and supplies bound for Europe, this small port city swarmed with soldiers and sailors from all over the world, and our harbour handled more shipping than New York’s.  That excess of traffic led to one of the greatest disasters of the 20th century, and to a tradition that Nova Scotians hold dear to this day. With the holiday season just past, I thought this would make a fitting story to share.

Boston’s Christmas Tree

Every Christmas tree is special, but the magnificent evergreen that glitters each year in Boston’s Prudential Plaza is unique. It’s a holiday symbol with a deeper meaning, a special gift in remembrance of help provided in a time of desperate need many years ago.

The year was 1917, and much of the world was at war.  North along the Atlantic coast from Boston, the city of Halifax, Nova Scotia bustled with activity as convoys bound for Europe with troops and supplies prepared for the dangerous crossing. Traffic on Halifax Harbour had never been so busy. All vessels had to come and go during daylight hours, as submarine nets were drawn across the Harbour’s mouth at night. Amid the bustle, the city looked forward to Christmas. The economy was booming and the shops were full of festive goods to cheer yet another wartime holiday.

On the morning of December 6th, as men set off for work and children made their way to school, two ships collided in the Harbour. One of them, the French vessel Mont Blanc, was fully loaded with explosives – TNT, picric acid, airplane fuel and gun cotton. The collision sparked a fire.  Knowing their deadly cargo, the crew of Mont Blanc took to the lifeboats and left the ship to drift into a pier in Halifax’s industrial North End. At 9:04 am Mont Blanc detonated in what is still the largest non-natural, non-atomic explosion in recorded history.

The North End was devastated. Homes and businesses were blown away, and ships touched bottom as the Harbour parted with the force of the blast. Over a thousand people were killed instantly and a thousand more died later of their injuries, but horrific as the loss of life was, it would have been much worse but for the bravery of Vince Coleman, a railway telegraph operator who sacrificed his life to send a warning message to an oncoming train. Thanks to Coleman, the whole world quickly got word of the disaster. Response was overwhelming, especially from the state of Massachusetts, where so many Nova Scotians had family ties.

Within a day, a train loaded with relief supplies, doctors and nurses set out for the stricken city. They relieved Halifax’s exhausted medical personnel, and remained to provide aid and distribute supplies until the casualties had been cared for and aid began to arrive from other sources. There is no doubt that without the help provided by Massachusetts, the explosion would have caused even more hardship and suffering.

Nova Scotia has not forgotten. And so, every year, we send a carefully chosen, towering tree to “the Boston States” to stand in Prudential Plaza, a reminder that kinship and generosity know no borders.

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Jennie Marsland is a teacher, an amateur musician and for over thirty years, a writer. She fell in love with words at a very early age, and the affair has been life-long. 

Jennie grew up reading Louis L'Amour and Zane Grey. She still has a soft spot for Westerns, and she draws further inspiration from her roots in rural Nova Scotia and stories of earlier times, passed down from her parents and grandparents. Glimpses of the past spark her imagination.

Jennie lives in Halifax, Nova Scotia, with her husband and their two rambunctious Nova Scotia Duck Tolling Retrievers, Ceilidh and Echo. When she isn't teaching or writing, Jennie plays guitar, dabbles in watercolours, gardens, and caters to the whims of the four-footed tyrants of the household. Jennie can be found on the Web here!

Romance Writers Weekly: January 6, 2015

Happy New Year! The season of over-eating, over-sleeping, and in the case of my family, over-sneezing, coughing, hacking and being miserable, is over (for me at least!) and it's time to get back to the things that matter. Like the romance weekly blog hop. If you've made your way here from the slightly-nutty, but ever-so-wonderful Sarah Hegger, welcome! 

For those of you making your first stop on the hop with me today, we're talking what a normal day in the life is, when we're not writing. 

I wish I were one of those awesome authors who could proudly claim that not a day goes by that I don't write, but sadly, that's not true. Oh, I have aspirations of writing every day but as you'll see in my thoughts below, that doesn't always happen. 

I have three dedicated writing days a week, when the wee one gets shipped to a sitter. The plan is to fit some writing into the other days. I'm going to tell you what a normal Monday is like for me. I should note that there are two things that take up my life: writing and mothering. So if I'm not writing about a day spent writing, I will be writing about a day spent mothering. 

Our day begins when hubby has to wake for work. We are very lucky to have a two year old that sleeps in. So we are rarely up before 8. Monday's fall after the weekend (in case you didn't know) and so it's my first day of the new week with just me and wee one, no helping hands in sight. Normally once hubby leaves the house I call my parents, who live about a two minute drive (10 minute walk) away. Here's how that convo goes:

Me: Good morning, my mother. 

Mom: Good morning, my daughter. What time is it?

Me: 9. (I'm not allowed to call before 9.)

Mom: Are you coming for tea?

Me: Yes please. And toast and eggs and bacon.

Mom: You're getting tea and crackers. 

Me: Your grandson wants yogurt. 

I hang up and debate between walking and driving. If it's cold, or wet, I'll drive. If I'm feeling like we could both use a dose of fresh air, we walk. 

See the river? We love our river. And running along it. 

The walk is wonderful. There's a path that runs between our houses that goes through the woods, along the river. When the wee one was a babe, and not a toddler, I'd strap him on to my chest in our awesome Boba baby carrier and that's how we'd walk. Now it's more of a slow meander while we stop to jump in puddles, listen to birds, and play hide and seek. Now, don't go thinking my life is super idyllic. Three times out of four, we drive. 

The morning is spent hanging out with my parents, who are sometimes semi-retired. Even if they have to go to work, they don't head in to the city till 11, so it's always a nice visit. Oh, and there's normally bacon and eggs cooking when we arrive. My parents rock. 

A visit to Nan and Pop's house is always better when there are cousins there as well. My parents are "lucky" to have both their daughters live a ridiculously short distance from them. It makes our kids happy. 

By lunchtime, we're home. I like to cook so making lunch is no biggie for us. Homemade Mac and Cheese is always a hit, or a quick pot of creamy soup (you can't go wrong with root veg, onions, garlic, wine and chicken broth). Once we've eaten and the house looks like it's been hit by a cyclone it's time for  the "will he, won't he nap" dance to begin. Some days this is an easy feat. Other days, it's a two hour challenge. 

Once he naps, I can finally get some work done. Because even if I'm not having a writing day, I am a self-published author so there's a heck of a lot of non-writing work that I have to do. Marketing, blogging, Facebook (yea, Facebook can be work), accounting, PR, strategizing ideas for future projects, thinking about the work-in-progress, and emails. Luckily, wee one's naps are always two hours long. So that's good for me. 

When he wakes it's time to play and figure out supper. Supper is always a bit of a challenge because our son has picked up on the fact that Mommy loves to cook and Daddy loves to bake. Therefore, in his two year old eyes, being in the kitchen is the greatest fun there is. It gets messy. And loud. 

By the time hubby gets home supper is half-made, I'm ready to break out the wine, and the wee one is blissfully rolling in ingredients on the floor, chasing the cats and trying to force them to eat God only knows what. 

We barbecue a lot. Really. Even in the snow. Because cooking outdoors is fun. And clean. And eating outdoors is even better. 

Life with a toddler is a blur, honestly. I have vague ideas of things that are supposed to happen during the day, and even more vague notions of not really understanding how some things got done, and others didn't. 

Still, I have to admit that balancing a full-time writing career with a toddler is much easier than it was with an infant. I'm holding out hopes that by the time he's three or four, we'll have a much more productive schedule worked out. I can't help but feel that if we had a fenced yard I could toss him outside to play blissfully while I worked. But so far, most of my toddler-work management ideas have failed. 

Lately, I'm just embracing the time I have with him, writing be damned. 

Now, if that hasn't bored you to tears and you're still with me, why not go visit my friend, Gemma Brocato (who will be hanging out at my Facebook release party on Sunday—see the link below!). I bet Gemma's day is much more fabulous than mine. Certainly it should be neater. 

Don't miss the Facebook release party for Geek Groom - This Sunday! 

Click the image below to join the event. 

Romance Writers Weekly: December 23, 2014

Merry Christmas everyone! I almost missed this post today because I'm running around doing my christmas shopping. I'd like to say last minute but the truth is, I only started any shopping two days ago. Regardless, I'm not going to let a little thing like Christmas unpreparedness prevent me from taking part in today's blog hop.

This week we are completing a statement. So here we go.

All I want for Christmas is...

to see the people I love be happy. And maybe for Christmas to be less about gifts and more about spending time with the people who make us happy. I know, I know. The commercialization thing is often talked about, and that's fine. We all want to give the perfect gift to someone. I get that. But what I really wish is that people could feel loved for Christmas. 

Today I was out shopping downtown with my mom. We were having a great time, laughing, being happy, not stressing about things. And yet so many people we met looked angry or frustrated. People were bickering. People were alone, huddled in the corner of a building looking for money. There's sadness all around us and for someone who really does believe in the power of happiness, it hits me in the heart to see such sorrow. 

I often wonder how I can change this. And I don't have the answer. But all I can do is smile at people, whether they want to smile back or not. I don't know if happiness is contagious, but I can at least try that. 

In the meantime, I can make sure that those I love are happy. Happily fed, happily hugged, happily told how much they mean to me. And that goes out to the people that I know in the virtual world as well. I have many friends in the Romance Writers Weekly group that I've never met, and yet I wish them all the love and joy of the season. And I wish it for my readers as well. 

Maybe that's why writing romance, and being proud of writing romance, is so important to me. Because I know that for a little while at least, people can escape from the things that might be filling their days with stress, and know joy and love for a small moment in time. 

Merry Christmas my friends. Even if this isn't a holiday you celebrate, I wish you nothing but the best this season, and always. 

I also wish you'd do the rounds of this blog hop this week and see what all my friends want for Christmas. You can start right here with Dani Jace.  

Isn't this lovely? I found it on esty. 

Mistletoe Hop: 5 Reasons Why Newfoundland Rocks Christmas

Can you believe how close we are to Christmas now? It's time for all sorts of Christmas things, like last minute gift buying (books are always a great idea!), baking, or in the case of my house, the never-ending game of put the ornaments back on the tree after my toddler takes them all off. Again. 

I'm super happy to be part of the Mistletoe Blog Hop this year. I don't have a holiday book to promote but for those of you who don't know me, I am incredibly passionate about this place I call home. I set all of my books in Newfoundland, and I love to take every chance I can to introduce readers to some of our ways and customs. For this post, I'm going to share with you my top five reasons why there's no better place to celebrate Christmas! So let's go.

Top 5 Reasons Why Newfoundland Rocks Christmas

1. Mummers

Imagine a place where you can put your clothes on backwards, pull a pillowcase or sack over your face, and go around knocking on your neighbour's doors in hopes of being invited in to dance, and drink and eat! This is mummering in Newfoundland. It's mostly popular in the rural parts of the province where your neighbours tend to be family, but there's a huge mummering parade that happens in St. John's, our capital city, every year as well. Take a moment and check out this video from the '80s all about it! 

Original 1987 uncut TV broadcast. Newfoundland Christmas tradition inspired this hit Simani song. Subscribe to this channel. More Granite Planet vids being uploaded...

2. A Huge Sense of Family

There's about a half a million people that live in Newfoundland. But there are hundreds of thousands more that have moved away. As many as possibly can come home for Christmas. The feeling of happiness permeates the air, and there's just a general sense of love and joy and merrymaking everywhere you look. 

3. Tibbs Eve

If you like alcohol, Tibbs Eve is for you. Local folklore has it that it was taboo to drink during Advent, and Tibbs Eve (also known as Tippy Eve) emerged as an appropriate time to have a drink. It falls on December 23, the eve of Christmas Eve. I'm not saying everyone around here likes to drink. That's not true, and it is a terrible stereotype of Newfoundland. But for those who do like to make merry, Tibbs Eve is a great excuse to start your Christmas partying a little earlier. 

4. The 12 days of Christmas

We love us some Old Christmas Day here in Newfoundland. There are still many people, my mother included, who refuse to take down their trees until after January 6th. Christmas isn't a day here, it's an event. Doing things "over Christmas" goes well into the New Year. 

5. The potential for a rolling blackout, which leads to snuggling, impromptu family get-togethers and the opportunity to do one of our favourite things: Gripe about the government. 

This is a new tradition, that really has come to light over the past year or so. We're going through a bit of a power generation shortage right now, made worrisome because of the lack of backup power. Last January we were in the dark for a whole weekend. And the Christmas before that a blizzard knocked out power for a day or so. The moment the temperature starts to dip below minus 10 we're all waiting to find out if we are going to have to conserve electricity or face the consequences of a rolling blackout to prevent the entire island (which is about the size of California) from going dark. 

And there you have it! Five things about Christmas (kind of) that make Newfoundland extra special. Please be sure to visit the rest of the awesome authors and bloggers making up the Mistletoe Hop this year, and don't forever to add your name to the rafflecopter below for your chance to win a Kindle! 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Historical Wednesday: December 17, 2014

Oh boy, is this a treat today. My darling editor, who is also one of my dearest friends, is here visiting over Christmas. Which means I have to get a manuscript finished pronto for her. For those of you who are writers and are wondering how to beat writer's block, have your editor in the same house as you for a while. That should cure it. 

Anyhow, I met Anne a long time ago when we were both doing master's degrees in History. It's to my credit that she knows a heck of a lot about England. It's to her credit that I know a lot about Newfoundland. For several years I've hounded her to start her own blog. She hasn't. Yet. But I did convince her to write a guest post on mine. Maybe we can get her doing this monthly? 

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From the Editor’s desk:

This is a shot Anne sent me ages ago of her work space when she was hard at work on the Heart's Ease series. 

Victoria has asked me to stop contemplating commas for a moment and say a few words about editing and historical writing.

Since this is a history-themed blog series, I’d like to take you all back in time to the year 2010 A.D. when Victoria sent me Chapter One of the Regency she was writing. I loved it. And I’ve been waiting four years to see Chapter Two.

When it does arrive, these will be what I’ll be looking for when it comes to the historical side of things:

 — Accuracy. Now, strictly speaking, it’s up to the author to fact-check; however, I’m an obsessive double-checker and if something doesn’t sound right—be it facts, vocabulary or attitudes—I’ll either check it out myself or challenge it. There is one giant caveat here: liberties are sometimes necessary with facts and events to tell the story.

— “I didn’t know that!” moments. Following the above, I love to find out aspects of history I didn’t know before. I appreciate the work that goes into researching the fine details in historical writing and it suggests that the author, like me, loves doing research. 

HMS Victory. Admiral Nelson's 104 gun ship of the line. Anne saw this when she was in Portsmouth. I love this picture!

— A good mix of England and Newfoundland. That's pretty specific to the works of Victoria Barbour. I’m intrigued to see how Victoria takes the standard setting for a Regency and incorporates Newfoundland into it. Sure, it will mean more work for me looking up unfamiliar vocabulary and arguing over prepositions (Re: The Great “on the porch” vs “in the porch Debate of 2014), but Newfoundland is one of my favourite places in Canada and I want know more about its strategic place in the Atlantic world during the 19th century.  

—Swoon-worthy naval officers. Okay, that’s the reader side of me coming out. But am I right?

Thanks for having me Victoria. I'm watching you. PS: Fetch me a cup of tea. And then churn out 5000 words by lunch. That is all. 

Debut release for Xio Axelrod: The Calum

I'm thrilled to share the debut release of my friend Xio Axelrod's romance novel, The Calum. Below you'll find the blurb, and of course, all the wonderful places you can pick it up when it officially releases tomorrow (December 16). Congratulations Xio. I'm sure this is the first of many great books from you. 

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Twenty-six is too old to believe in fairytales, but tell that to Lovie’s roommate. Convinced she’ll find a real life version of her ultimate book boyfriend, Calum MacKenzie, Jo drags Lovie to the Scottish Highlands. Lovie’s no cynic *ahem* but she knows The Calum is a myth. A construct. A freaking unicorn! And there are warmer places to spend Christmas vacation.

If Duff had his way, he’d never step foot in Inverness again. Only his best friend’s wedding, and his ailing grandmother, could bring him home. Duff’s plan is keep his head down and stay out of trouble. Hard to do when the groom targets a pretty blond tourist for one last conquest.

When Duff and Lovie meet, stones, sparks and insults fly. He’s instantly attracted to the sexy, sharp-tongued American. She’s just glad to have someone to hang out with, especially the bad boy with a mysterious past. Lovie is determined to learn his secrets, but as they grow closer, Duff is forced to choose between his best friend and his heart.

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About Xio

Philadelphia native and global citizen, Xio Axelrod writes love stories, sexy romance and what she likes to call “strange, twisted tales.” Bitten by the literary bug in 2003, she has self-published two volumes of poetry. Her short stories have also appeared in e-magazines such as Oysters and Chocolate. After a five year hiatus from writing, Xio returned with the fiery web serial, Starstruck: a story about finding the right person at the wrong time that became a viral hit. The Calum is book one in a series.

Xio is a vocalist and songwriter by day and lives in Philadelphia with her husband, Mr. X, and their on-again/off-again cat, BB.

Find out more about Xio here!   

Amazon Author Page

Pick up your copy of The Calum here (starting tomorrow morning!)

Amazon

B&N 

iTunes 

Kobo

Historical Wednesday: December 10, 2014

Another Wednesday, another fabulous post about the regency era. Thanks so much to my fellow Romance Writers Weekly pal Collette Cameron (author of fantastic regency romances!) for coming along today to share her knowledge with us. I'm so pleased with this post for many reasons, high amongst them Collette's use of images. On Facebook Collette spends a lot of time sharing the most beautiful images with her friends and it always brightens my day. 

The Quill by Collette Cameron

Today I'm talking about Regency writing. No, not writing Regency romance, but actually writing with a quill. You know, a feather.

As an author, it's nearly impossible for me to imagine writing with a quill pen. I can barely write legibly with a fine point gel pen. 

During the Regency Era, though metal nibs had been invented, they were rarely used. Quill pens were preferred and much more economical. 

I had no idea that different sized quills were used for varies sized text. It makes sense. It's not like they had a computer they could change the font size with a simple click of a mouse.  

Goose feathers were a popular choice for quills. (I've had geese and turkeys and often wondered if their quills would have been used for writing. Both were.) The most desirable quills came from swans or peacocks. The tip of the quill (the nib) is trimmed with a knife before writing with the feather. 

Why you ask? Well, how else were they to vary the thickness of the writing? I suppose this was done when one didn't have a smaller feather sitting about. 

Feathers from crows, hawks, owls, pheasants, and eagles were also used. And lest you worry about the foul from whence said feathers were obtained, molted feathers were used. No chasing unsuspecting birds about the barnyard yanking feathers from them. Feathers were sorted into three grades, primes, seconds, and pinions, according to size of the quill. 

The feathers had to be hardened too. This was done by dipping the tip of the feather into hot sand until the outer membrane pulled away. The softened quill was then flattened and the end rounded. Another method to harden the quill was to boil the ends for a minute, and then lay them out to dry. This process was repeated on the finer quality pen, those longest and largest, several times. Hardened quills were more flexible and less brittle.   

Another interesting tidbit I discovered while researching Regency writing implements was that the word pen actually comes from the Latin word penna. Want to guess what it means? You're right: feather. I read contradicting accounts on whether left-handed people preferred feathers from the right wings and right-handed people preferred feathers from the left wing. Some sources said this was true, while others maintained it wasn't. 

I also learned that the barb, the actually feathery part of the pen, was trimmed as the nib was shortened from use. Some people cut away the barb completely before they began to use the pen. Those pictures we see of the huge plumes on the ends of quill pens? 

Nope. Didn't happen. 

To write, the tip was dipped into an ink pot. The quill held a small amount of ink, so redipping every little bit was necessary. (I can just imagine the unholy mess I'd make.) A blotter was used to pick up excess ink. Then, the document was sprinkled with sand to speed up the drying process.  If one needed to transport their quills, a metal quill case was often used. 

I'm trying to picture Jane Austen writing away with her quill.  Have you ever written with a quill pen? What was it like? 

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Award winning, Amazon best-selling, and multi-published historical author Collette Cameron was born and raised in a small town along the northern Oregon coast. To this day, the beach continues to remain one of her favorite retreats. If you've ever lived near the ocean, you understand the irresistible, captivating draw of the sea! An enthusiast of times gone by, Collette currently writes Regency and Scottish historical romances.

Learn more about her on her website. 

Resources: 

http://janeaustensworld.wordpress.com/tag/letter-writing-in-the-regency-era/

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Quill

http://regencyredingote.wordpress.com/2009/09/11/the-quill-the-regency-pen/

http://medievalwriting.50megs.com/tools/quill.htm

All pictures courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

Romance Writers Weekly: December 9, 2014

"Tis the season to be jolly" and crank up the old Christmas tunes. What a fun topic this week. Many thanks to Xio Axelrod for making us try and choose our favourite Christmas song. This is very difficult for me, mainly because I can never pin down just one thing as a favourite, and what might be top of the list this morning could be forgotten by this evening. 

Yes, I'm one of those people, where every second or third song that comes on the radio is "My favourite song in the whole wide world." What can I say? I like way more things than I dislike. 

So here's what I'm going to do. I'll list my top three Christmas songs, and we can all assume that this fluctuating list will change many times between now and old Christmas day. 

Now, without further adieu, here are some of my favs! (Videos included so you can sing along!)

The Cherry Tree Carol, by Jose Feliciano 

This song makes me cry every time I hear it. And while there are plenty of beautiful versions, there's no other like this. His voice and the guitar, the sincerity of it all, crushes me. And I love it. 

Oh Holy Night

Another classic carol that kicks me right in the heart strings. And still, it makes me smile as well. It brings back memories of a crisp winter night at the family cabin where my cousin and I belted this out at the top of our lungs. We thought we were the best singers ever! She's actually pretty great. Me, not so much. Anyhow, there are a lot of beautiful versions out there and I honestly have no particular favourite. But for today, let's say this version by Josh Groban is pretty awesome. I do prefer piano versions over huge orchestras, so this has a bit of both. 

Barefoot Santa Claus by Sonny James

So when I was a kid, I loved this song. These days my favourite kid christmas song is the Hippopotamus one, but there's no way I can lie and say that this wasn't what got my little feet tapping at Christmas time. So here it is, in all its barefoot glory!

Honourable mentions go out today to other favs including:

• Anything by Boney M
• Carol of the Bells
• The Mummer's Song
• Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer
• Some Kenny & Dolly christmas songs

The Blarmling Dilemma (Hearts in Orbit Book 1)

By S.C. Mitchell

Buy on Amazon

Now pop on over and say "Jingle Bells" to S.C. Mitchell to see what he has on his list. And be sure to check out his brand new release, The Blarmling Dilemma. 

Historical Wednesday: December 3, 2014

Is it possible to be giddy with delight over a post? I don't know what I'm more excited about today. The content of Barbara Burke's blog post, or the style with which it's written. Either way, get ready for a delightful and insightful look into understanding the naming protocols of the English aristocracy. I can guarantee you I'll be referencing this as I continue on with my regency writing. 

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Your Grace, my Lord and plain old Mr: Recognizing Who’s Who in a library full of bodice rippers and Regencies by Barbara Burke

Sir Walter Elliot, of Kellynch Hall, in Somersetshire, was a man who, for his own amusement, never took up any book but the Baronetage...So begins Jane Austin’s novel Persuasion. 

To Sir Walter and, indeed, most people reading Persuasion in 1818 when it was first published, the information found in the Baronetage about Sir Walter and his family tells a lot about him, his family and the Elliots’ place in society.

However, a North American audience of nearly two hundred years later can excuse itself for finding the intricacies and convolutions of a by-gone British society more than a little difficult to sort out. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. The fact that there are numerous guide books to correct usage attests to the complexity of the subject. In fact, even the titles of the guide books are complicated, as witnessed by Debrett’s Correct Form: Social and Professional Etiquette, Precedence and Protocol: An Inclusive Guide to Everything From Drafting Wedding Invitations to Addressing An Archbishop. A quick glance through Debrett’s shows that there is a correct title for absolutely anyone in ‘society’, from the king to the child of a disclaimed peer (a lord who for one reason or another gives up his title), and clear rules and guidelines for their usage.

Though it isn’t really necessary for someone who enjoys a good Regency or Historical romance to have a complete grasp of these rules, it does make it rather more fun to have some understand of who’s who and why, particularly if it gives you an opportunity to shake your head and feel superior when you catch an author making a faux pas.  

Though things have now altered slightly to the extent that even the British royal family is changing its definition of primogeniture so that three generations from now (i.e., in Prince George’s time) the eldest child of the monarch rather than the eldest son will inherit the throne, historically speaking it is a pretty universal truth that the whole social system is patriarchal and women derived their status from the men in their families. Therefore, any list of ranks and honours is based on the men holding them rather than the women of their families, no matter how important those women may be.

You'd find all manner of leaping lords and ladies in the assembly rooms of Almack's. 

At its simplest and leaving out the royal family, British society is divided into two categories: the nobility (also known as the aristocracy and the peerage) and the gentry. The aristocracy consists of five ranks, starting with Dukes at the top and then descending in order through Marquesses (or sometimes, depending on the individual title, Marquises), Earls, Viscounts and Barons. Though they have different ranks as peers they share some common features: they are all titled, their titles are hereditary and they have a right to a seat in the House of Lords, the British Upper House of Parliament (although this last privilege has now been considerably abridged).

Their wives are, in the same descending order, Duchesses, Marchionesses, Countesses (there is no such thing as an Earless, mores the pity - I always picture some deaf old dear at Almack’s trying desperately to hear the latest on dits and scandals) Viscountesses and Ladies. Barons’ wives are not and never were called Baronesses. Baroness is one of the few titles that a woman can hold in her own right (this is the title that Margaret Thatcher was granted, for example) although it was seldom seen in England until recently. Any Baroness who turns up in a Regency had better either be foreign or, in some rare cases, Scottish. If she isn’t she’s probably in the wrong book.

Ranking beneath the aristocracy is the gentry, who generally consists of knights and everyone else who is accepted in polite society. Sir Walter falls into this category and is of the highest rank of the gentry. He is a baronet, which is a hereditary title. However, he is not a lord and he cannot claim a seat in the House of Lords. One step down from him are knights, who are still considered titled but do not pass the title down to their children. Finally there are the lowly Misters who, as gentlemen, may put esquire after their names when they write them but have no other title.

Those are the ranks of the British aristocracy and gentry and they are relatively simple to learn. However, after that things get a lot more complicated.

Armiger, the pseudonymous author of Titles; Being A Guide To The Right Use Of British Titles And Honours written in 1918 has this to say when talking about addressing or discussing members of the nobility and gentry:

Nobody “who knows” would talk about “The Marquess, or Marchioness, of Montgomeryshire.” They would be called “Lord, or Lady, Montgomeryshire.”

Still less would they be referred to as “The Marquess” or “The Marchioness.” There are occasions on which the full title would be used, but it should never be done in intimate speech. “The Marquess” or “The Earl” are so very often used by popular novelists, who love the Peerage better than they know its ways, that it may be difficult to believe that they are showing ignorance where they wish to show intimacy.  It is only wrong, of course, in that it is never done by the people of title themselves, or by those who mix with them...Anyone who spoke habitually of “The Marquess of Montgomeryshire” or “The Countess of Malvern,” instead of saying “Lord Montgomeryshire” or “Lady Malvern”, would show plainly that he had small knowledge of the matters in which he is now being instructed, and would be put down as an outsider, just as much as if he were to speak of Lady John Smith as “Lady Smith”.

How’s that for English snobbery at its finest?          

There is some compensation in the fact that his condemnation is so widespread. Obviously, there are a great many people in the world labouring under a burden of ignorance. So how does one talk to and about the British nobility?

There are some fairly simple guidelines. First of all, dukes and duchesses abide by their own rules which are, generally speaking, different from those laid down for the rest of the Peerage. For one thing, all Ducal titles are territorial. You can’t have a Duke without him being the Duke of Somewhere.  For another, they are never referred to as My Lord or My Lady. They are called Your Grace in the second person and His or Her Grace in the third. In the most formal circumstances they are also called The Most Noble as in The Most Noble Duke of Devonshire. Finally, even in relatively informal cases, it is always made clear that one is talking about a Duke or a Duchess rather than some more common garden variety of peer. So one never says Lord Devonshire, for example, but Duke in the second person or The Duke in the third. Personally, however, I can’t help but feel that if I met the Duke of Devonshire sauntering through the park and simply said: “Hi, Duke!” I’d feel like my next move would be to throw a stick for him to fetch.

The next two ranks, Marquesses and Earls, have some rules that they share with Dukes but not with the two lowest orders of the peerage. One of these rules is that their eldest son is given what is called a courtesy title. If money begets money then titles beget titles. The British aristocracy has been around for a long time and most noble families have managed through the generations to accumulate more than one title. Presumably so that at least some of these excess titles do more than just lie around collecting dust and waiting for a really, really formal occasion to get brushed off and put on, a peer’s eldest son gets to use one of them. The only condition is that it must be of a lower order then that of his dad. So if someone was both the Duke of Smith and the Duke of Jones his son couldn’t use the title Duke of Jones. However, if he were also the Marquess of Brown, and that was his next highest rank, then his son would use that title. Thus in Georgette Heyer’s Devil’s Cub, Dominic, the son and heir of the Duke of Avon, bears the title Marquis of Vidal which is his father’s next highest rank.  This carries on to the next generation so that if, somewhere between Devil’s Cub and the sequel An Infamous Army, Dominic and his wife have a son while the Duke is still alive then he gets the next most important title in the line.

There is one more condition. A courtesy title can only be given to the heir apparent, never the heir presumptive. The heir apparent is someone whose claim to the title can never be challenged. In just about every case that is the eldest son. An heir presumptive can lose that position at any time. For instance, to continue using the Duke of Avon as our example, in the precursor to Devil’s Cub, These Old Shades, which takes place before Dominic is born, the Duke of Avon’s heir is his brother Lord Rupert Alastair. Lord Rupert is the heir presumptive because he can be displaced at any time simply by Avon managing to sire a legitimate son. Therefore, he doesn’t get to use the courtesy title Marquis of Vidal.  This is probably because once you’ve given someone a title it’s not very nice to ask to have it back because a more worthy candidate has just been born.

(In Scotland they do things a little differently. The heir to a title is called the Master and it doesn’t matter whether he’s the heir apparent or the heir presumptive. Consequently, younger brothers of a peer are called the Master until the peer has a legitimate son who then takes over (and keeps) the title.) 

Notice that Rupert, the Duke of Avon’s brother, is called Lord Rupert. This is a courtesy title granted to the younger sons of Dukes and Marquesses. These kinds of courtesy titles are always attached to the bearer’s first name to distinguish them from ‘real’ lords who have an actual hereditary title. All daughters of earls as well as dukes and marquesses follow the same rule and are referred to as Lady. So before she became the Princess of Wales, Lady Diana Spenser was so called because she was the daughter of the Earl of Warwick.

Finally, younger sons of earls and all the children of viscounts and barons are simply ladies and gentlemen although their name is prefixed by the term ‘The Honourable’ when it is written.  

As we have been informed by the ever so proper Armiger, any peer ranking below a duke is referred to as Lord followed by his title (not his last name). So we say Lord Vidal, even though his name is Dominic Alastair.  In the second person the correct way to refer to that person is “My Lord” and “His Lordship” in the third person. So, unless the peer is a duke you can’t tell what rank he holds. The same is true for his wife, so we refer to her as Lady Vidal and call her “My Lady” or “Her Ladyship”.

Baronets and knights are called Sir followed by their first names informally and their first and last name formally. Their wives are called Lady followed by their last names (to distinguish them from the daughters of peers). Thus Sir John Brown would be married to Lady Brown and that is the only proper way to refer to her. If her name was given as Lady Mary Brown it would mean she was the daughter of a high ranking peer. And if she were referred to as Lady John Brown it would mean that her husband was Lord John Brown, the younger son of a duke or marquess. Their children have no titles at all.

There are probably a thousand other rules of address and nuances to polite society which are well beyond the scope of this blog, including titles reserved for members of the royal family. And then there’s the question of how to address grandchildren of peers and younger daughters of gentlemen, members of the military, members of the clergy, members of the military or clergy who are also peers, widows, widows with married sons, widows with unmarried sons, widows who remarry...

Hmm, maybe historical romance writers can be forgiven their occasional mistakes after all.

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Barbara Burke’s parapetetic life means she’s lived everywhere from a suburban house in a small town to a funky apartment in a big city, and from an architecturally designed estate deep in the forest to a cedar shack on the edge of the ocean. Everywhere she’s gone she’s been accompanied by her husband, her animals and her books. For the last 15 years she’s worked as a freelance journalist and has won several awards. She was a fan of Jane Austen long before that lady was discovered by revisionists and zombie lovers and thinks Georgette Heyer was one of the great writers of the twentieth century. She lives by the philosophy that one should never turn down the opportunity to get on a plane no matter where it’s going, but deep down inside wishes she could travel everywhere by train.

You can find out more about Barbara here and follow her on Facebook as well. 

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Barbara-Burke/162847103814669

Romance Writers Weekly: December 2, 2014

It's time for the Romance Writers Weekly Christmas Cookie Recipe exchange! If you've come via Collette Cameron, I'm not sure we can top her spritz cookies but I'll try. 

Mmmmmm. Cookies. I love cookies no matter the time of year, but there's something about Christmas that just makes eating them so much more acceptable.

I'm blessed to have a husband that bakes all year round so there's never any shortage in our home. Last night in bed I said "What recipe of yours do you want me to post tomorrow?" Because let's face it, with a toddler, that's about as exciting as it gets in our bed these days. 

Anyhow, after much deliberation I've decided to go with his brownie recipe. Two reasons: They were already made so I could take a photo this morning of the real thing, and also, they are so good that they don't even need icing or ice cream or anything to add to them. They are moist, chocolatey, and decadent all on their own. And simple to make. Or at least that's what I'm told. Because I cook. He bakes. It's a great house we have. 

Don't judge. This was my breakfast this morning. I'll have a healthy lunch. I promise. 

Decadent Fudge Brownies

Ingredients

• 1  1/2 cup of flour
• 3/4 cup of rich dark cocoa (The better your cocoa, the better your brownies!)
• 1/2 tsp  baking powder
• 1 cup of  melted butter
• 3/4 cup of vanilla sugar (Vanilla Sugar. Simple to make. Poke a couple of long vanilla beans in a tall glass, fill with sugar, cover and let sit for a week. Mmmmm.)
• 3/4 cup of brown sugar
• 2 eggs

What to do

• Preheat oven to 350°F 
• Lightly butter and flour a 9 x 13” (23 x 33 cm) pan, shaking out excess flour. You could use cocoa instead of flour. This is a great alternative.
• Whisk flour, cocoa and baking powder in a mixing bowl. Set aside. 
• In a separate mixing bowl, whisk remaining ingredients. Combine both mixes and pour into prepared pan. 
• Bake for 25 minutes
• Eat! You can eat them warm with ice cream (my dad's favourite), eat them right from the pan with nothing on top (my favourite) or sprinkle cocoa or icing sugar on them. You can also spruce them up with icing, but trust me, they are perfect just as they are! 

Now hop on over to see the most amazing lebkuchen recipe from Betty Bolte! This cookie is new to me but I guarantee we'll be giving it a go. 

Oh! And be sure to pop over to our Facebook party today. We're giving away books all day long! 

Historical Wednesday: November 26, 2014

Fasten your seat belts, historical aficionados. Today we're taking a trip to Asia, specifically to Korea! I don't know about you but I find so much of what we consume about history is related to Europe that it's always a breath of fresh air when we get to learn something about other places. My guest today is Deborah Nam-Krane, author of The New Pioneers series. Let's check out her post. 

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Korean History: It’s Not All The Korean War by Deborah Nam-Krane

Koreans have been asserting their right to carve out their own identity for centuries. China, the big kid in their neck of the woods, wanted Korea to be a part of China, and for a couple of centuries they got their wish. But Koreans (like many other peoples) stubbornly clung to the idea of their independence, and by 300 A.D. they had pushed out their Chinese conquerors. (A Korean historian might tell you that this event was the deciding factor in the fall of the Han dynasty; a Chinese historian might tell you it was going to happen eventually anyway.)

Korea wasn’t Korea at that point; it was Three Kingdoms, Koguryo, Paekchae and Silla.

While they frequently fought among themselves, they all agreed on one thing: China wasn’t going to go away, and it would be foolish to pretend otherwise. All of them entered into formal diplomatic relations with China, and at no point in history is China’s cultural influence not evident: language, arts, religion and, perhaps most importantly, philosophy and politics are all influenced by China.

In fact, when in 1443 the court of King Sejong instituted Hangul, or the Korean alphabet, it was met with outrage by some of the yangban, or Korean aristocracy. Although the Chinese characters never did full justice to the Korean vocabulary and hangul was established to do just that, in the eyes of the yangban, only barbarians used an alphabet (or a language) other than Chinese, and after hundreds of years battling the Mongols, this was seen as a slap in the face. (The rest of the Korean population, however, happily adopted the easy-to-learn alphabet.)

Centuries later, when the Japanese conquered Korea (don’t let anyone tell you that Korea abnegated itself; they refused to sign their existence away, and the only reason the royal seal appeared on the documents the Japanese prepared was because the Japanese representative affixed it himself), Korean identity was even more threatened. It was not enough that Japan demanded that Korea be considered a part of Japan; by the time World War broke out, the Japanese were demanding that Koreans change their names to Japanese names and otherwise use the Japanese language. (To get an idea of what that means, imagine that every child in England would have to be given a French name- or a German one.) While the Chinese had always understood Korea’s strategic importance, the Japanese considered the Koreans genetically and culturally inferior. In their minds, they were doing the Koreans a favor by forcing them to adopt Japanese customs.

We’ll never know what course Korean culture might have taken had it not been for the occupation. As many have said, culture is not monolithic, and all are subject to outside influences. But in addition to being subjected to systematic destruction, the response to the Japanese occupation varied from collaboration to open resistance, and those who resisted sought safe haven in the Soviet Union, the United States and China, among other places. All of them had very different ideas about the most effective means of achieving their ends, and by the time the Japanese were defeated by the United States in 1945, those important questions hadn’t been answered.

Even worse, when the Americans arrived in Korea, many genuinely did not understand that Korea had been a very unwilling part of Japan. Worse, they took their advice about how to proceed from the Japanese administrators on their way out. Naturally, most of them recommended the people who had worked with them, never mind how resented they were by the rest of the population. In retrospect, it’s not surprising that the subsequent elections saw so little participation and were repudiated by many; because of the way the long-simmering tensions were or rather weren’t handled, it was only a matter of time before they exploded in a civil war. It was Korea’s poor luck that its conflict could be exploited in a proxy war between the United States, the Soviet Union and China.

Look at where Korea is located. Is it any wonder there were so many invasions? 

There are now two Koreas, and they could not be more different. One has embraced capitalism, and the other is hanging onto a mirage of a communist dream. Ironically, in the early years after the civil war, it was Communist North Korea, who disdained aid as a sign of weakness, that did well at first and South Korea was seen as something of an international beggar. By the late 80s, however, that had flipped; not only was South Korea the site of the Summer Olympics of 1988, it was also home to industries that would become among the most successful international corporations in the world, including Hyundai, Samsung and LG. Most importantly of all, they had finally overthrown their military dictators, and today South Korea’s presidents are allowed only one five-year term, a nice change from the decades of power previous presidents enjoyed. Modern South Korea boasts one of the most educated and productive populations in the world. Sadly, the same cannot be said of North Korea, which has endured multiple famines and become dependent on international aid over the last two decades under the corrupt Kim “dynasty”.

The dream of many Koreans who lived through the Korean War is to see both parts of their country reunited after sixty years. However, as that generation dies off and people no longer remember a time when the country was unified, it’s not clear that this will be a goal that will be pursued in the future. For now, we can only imagine what the people of that unified country will look like. I like to think that they will be as hardy, stubborn, brave and resourceful as their ancestors were two thousand years ago when they fought off the Chinese. Here’s hoping that fighting for unity is as motivating as fighting for freedom.

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Deborah Nam-Krane is a writer in Boston proper who has been writing novels since the age of thirteen. When she's not homeschooling her sons or making sure her daughters get their work done, she's writing, reviewing and editing.

The best way to keep in touch is to follow her blog Written By Deb and subscribe to her newsletter (only publishing announcements, never spam).

Historical Wednesday: November 19, 2014

I'm so happy this week to have my dear friend and fellow Newfoundlander romance author Kate Robbins on the blog. Kate writes awesome Scottish medieval historicals set in the 15th century around the reign of James 1. Today she's sharing some thoughts with you!

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Putting the History into Historical Romance by Kate Robbins

 If you’re a fan of the genre, you know there are several sub-genres to historical romance including Viking, Victorian, Western, Ancient, Medieval, the currently popular Scottish, and the uber giant Regency.

Though these sub-genres all take on different settings and eras, they all have one thing in common—readers who crave them. Let me tell you, if you are a budding writer and think you might be able to fudge some Regency detail? Forget it. Readers know these points in history so well, there’s no way around it. And they will tell you if you’ve gotten something wrong, too—just ask Mel Gibson.

That’s not to criticize readers, mind you. I think it’s amazing that the romance genre has produced such avid and dedicated readers. I write historicals set in fifteenth century Scotland. And while it is not as popular as those set during the Jacobite Rebellion, the attention to detail is no less important. The thing I’ve learned is that readers appreciate the attention to historical accuracy.

Every author will step away from the history and let the fiction take over at a different point too, which makes this genre so fascinating. Two different authors can take the exact same setting and the exact same conflict and will produce two completely different stories. That’s the beauty of this genre. There’s a reader out there for every author—and we are so fortunate for that!

Happy reading everyone!

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Kate Robbins is an Amazon Bestselling author. Her latest release from her Highland Chiefs series is Enemy of the Highlander to be released on November 21st, 2014.

You can find Kate online at the following

Facebook

Twitter

Goodreads

Website

Romance Writers Weekly: November 18, 2014

Ah, holidays. My American friends are gearing up for Thanksgiving (we had that last month) and then next month, Christmas. And what's one of the best things about holidays? That's right—FOOD! This week we are sharing our favourite holiday recipe. I thought long and hard about how to approach this post. I could have posted some dishes that I like, but honestly, when I think holidays, only one thing come to mind. Jiggs Dinner. 

What's that, you say. (If you're not from Newfoundland & Labrador, that is.). Well, this meal has plenty of names. Jiggs Dinner is one of the most common ones. It's also called boiled dinner, cooked dinner, and my favourite, Pork and Cabbage. (Some also call it corned beef and cabbage.) Around my family we just call it Sunday Dinner. Although I'll eat it any day of the week.

In terms of holidays, this is what you eat for all the big ones. Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, New Years, Paddy's Day. I kid. About Paddy's Day. Although it can be a great cure for a hangover. 

I challenge you to walk through any small town in Newfoundland on a Sunday and not be tempted by the smell of this dinner wafting out the windows of just about every house. 

My grandmother makes this every Sunday. She makes enough for at least 20 people. There have been times when we've had people eating in kitchen, the living room, and the porch. And don't get me started on the fights that can break out when there's not enough of one of the key ingredients to go around. I know I've done a fork duel with more than one cousin for the last bit of salt beef. 

So here we go. My holiday recipe for Jiggs Dinner - the visual version. 

Ingredients

Salt beef. If you don't have this, don't bother cooking because it's not Jiggs Dinner without it. This is basically cured bits of beef (usually the fatty scraps) that when boiled, retains a beautiful deep pink colour. I highly recommend you check out this link for the Old Pork website just to hear  "88 year old Nan" tell you about her bit of beef. 

Split Yellow Peas. You need this for the other critical dish, Pease Pudding. Don't bother inviting me if this isn't in the pot. :) Now, there's two main camps on serving this (plus countless other "true" methods). Some mash their cooked peas in butter (these are the people who need to try my Nan's pudding). And others, like me, are purists, and want our pease pudding in the nice round shape is comes out of the pot so we can slice it and fill our plates with mounds of it. 

Okay. This is also important. Here is Newfoundland, you'll hear us talk about turnip. A lot. And turnip must go in the pot. BUT when we say turnip, we mean Rutabaga. I think I was about 27 when I learned that the turnip I love isn't a turnip. The turnip we grow, not a turnip. Truth be told, I've never eaten a turnip. And yet, if you ask me my favourite vegetable, I'll tell you proudly that it's turnip. Cause 27 years of conditioning is hard to break. Plus, wouldn't it sound pretentious if I said "If I could be any vegetable in the world, I'd be a rutabaga." Or maybe pretentious isn't the word I mean either. ;) 

So there you have it. Your basic ingredients. Now you can get all fancy and add other specialty puddings. Molasses raisiin pudding is a favourite, as is blueberry pudding. And my aunt loves onion pudding. But I don't know how to make any of those so if you wanna get adventurous, go google those recipes. :)

But Victoria, you're likely wondering. What do I do with all of these wonderful root vegetables that have fed hardy Newfoundlanders for eons? Ahhhh. my friends. So simple. 

Cooking!

It takes three hours to make Jiggs Dinner. Let's say you want to eat at 6 pm (because that's what I did yesterday!). Here's our handy timeline. 

3 pm: Put a big boiler on the stove. Use the tallest, biggest pot you have. You're going to be putting a lot of food in here. Fill about half way with water. Start to boil. Cut up your salt beef, trimming off a lot of the fat. For the sake of this post, let's say you're having six people for dinner. So make sure there's enough for each person to have a nice choice cut. You are NOT GOING TO SALT YOUR WATER because there's enough salt in this to pickle your ribs. As for your split peas, grab a cloth pudding bag (if you don't have one, cut the corner off an old pillow case and use that), pour in the container of peas and tie your bag loosely. Not super loose, but not too tight. You want to give your peas a chance to expand, but still form a pudding. I'm not gonna lie. There's trial and error involved here. Here's what it should look like. Pop it into the pot and then go read a book. 

4:30 pm: By now you'll have cut up cabbage up into nice big chunks. Toss it in the pot. If your water seems a little low, add some from a hot kettle. If you have cabbage lovers, you'll want a fairly big head. 

5:15 pm: Add your turnip and carrots. Keep carrots whole unless they're massive, in which case, cut them in half width wise. Have your turnip in nice large chunks as well. One turnip should be good unless they're small. I always get a turnip about the size of a honeydew mellon. I tend to do one carrot per person unless I know I have some major carrot lovers coming. 

5:30 pm: Add your potatoes. Two per person and an extra one or two for the pot. 

6 pm: Take it all out. I put potatoes on a big platter, carrots on their own plate, cabbage goes in a strainer over a bowl so the water drips out, turnip goes into a bowl and you mash it with butter and pepper, salt beef gets it own plate (you might need to cut it smaller), and the pease pudding goes on another.  

A NOTE ON MEAT!

I haven't mentioned meat. This meal is typically accompanied by a roast of some sort. Turkey, chicken, pork, moose, grouse, goose, whatever you like, fill your boots. Yesterday, I cooked for my parents. They brought a roast and gravy. We had moose. Mmmmmm. Delicious! 

Thank you Mr. Moose for living so we could eat. I always feel bad thinking about where my meat comes from, but I do prefer knowing it lived in the wild and was doing its natural thing until his life ended. 

Finally, pile all your food on your plate, slather it in gravy if you have some (and you like it) and enjoy. Make sure you go back for more!

Confession time. When I cooked yesterday, I didn't have cabbage. Forgot to get it. And I forgot to get turnip greens, which are awesome. So I used brussel sprouts, which I hate. I put three teeny ones on my plate just to pretend so the wee one would eat his. Here's what's on the plate, clockwise: Carrots, potato, pease pudding, salt beef, yucky brussel sprouts, a huge piece of moose roast and mashed turnip. The hole in the centre of the plate is because when I was talking up dinner I was imaging piling my greens in there. So I left a space for respect. :) 

Either you now want to try this, or you're wondering, why did I just spend this much time reading about a boiled dinner? Either way, head on over and see what delicious treat Raine Balkera has in store for you! And see you next week!

Historical Wednesday: November 12, 2014

Welcome to the second instalment of Historical Wednesdays. I'm thrilled to have one of my favourite Victoria's on the blog today, the lovely Ms. Victoria Danann., who just happens to be a USA Today Bestselling Author. Trust me when I say she rocks! You can find her bio and links at the end of her awesome post on the CW historical teen drama, Reign. 

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"Reign: Gossip girls in funky costumes" by Victoria Danann

A long time ago, in a galaxy far far away named CW, there was a 16th century historical drama series with little resemblance to our reality. The show is supposed to center around the life and times of Mary, Queen of Scots.

Also called “Mary, Teen of Scots” by some, the show demonstrates everything that’s wrong with the ever-growing tendency to treat history as a rough draft. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad if the show began with disclaimers that names, dates, and places are fictional and any resemblance to actual events is purely coincidental.

The cynical among us would say that CW is a corporation tasked with a money making mission. Its purpose is to make money even if that means exploiting a target market populated by people whose brains are six years away from being fully developed. And who really cares if only one out of a hundred high school students could find France on a globe?  

Regardless of intent, we are creatures who adapt and learn.

Here are a few things I learned from “Reign”. In 1557 they…

• They danced the minuet to music played with electrical instruments that sounds very much like contemporary tweeny pop.
• When girls cried, mascara ran down their faces.
• They had no need of woodsmen because they used clean and convenient gas fireplaces.
• Queens did their own packing for traveling.
• They could ride in an open-windowed carriage in the middle of a snowy French winter, but noses don’t turn red, eyes didn’t water and magical thin capes, loosely tied over bare skin, were sufficient for warmth.

Perhaps I pay too much attention to such details. Like dress for instance. In one of my former careers, I was an evening wear designer. As a child I was always especially interested in the awards for movie costume design and marveled at the amount of research and care that went into accurately reproducing costumes so that they were authentic, right down to using only fabrics that were available at the time. No Zippers. No buttons. Some even went so far as to make sure everything was hand sewn as they would have been at the time.

That tradition of faithfully recreating period dress may not be sacred, but CW has gone completely off the reservation. Take the ladies in waiting. Mary did have four, as was the custom for royalty. But they dressed like this…

Actual period dress for the time period. 

NOT THIS! 

Prom, anyone?

If you think I’m done ragging on the costumer, you are so wrong.​

Leather pants? Come on! 

The push-up thing she’s wearing? Not a corset. Not a bustier. No. It’s a basque. It made its first appearance in fashion three hundred years after this period – minus the push-up feature.

The leather pants? Don’t get me started. Let me simply show what Henry’s clothes would have looked like.

It may not be "in", but it's accurate!

Hate to Bash the show, but…

Sorry. Couldn’t resist. There was no Sebastian de Poitiers, bastard son of the king. He was invented for this photo and because the writers must have thought a love triangle would be cool.

If there had been a half-brother named Sebastien, I assure you he would not have been given a motorcycle club nickname like “Bash”. Had a fanciful name been bestowed, it would have sounded more like Sebastian Curt Hose or Sebastian the Sorrowful.

The fictional Bash does have striking blue eyes. I’ll give him that.

Regarding other casting choices, Mary – the real Mary - had bright auburn hair and hazel eyes. She was 5’11” which would probably compare today to a woman 6’5”.  By contrast, Francis was abnormally short and so sickly that he was practically an invalid. He was married at fourteen and died at sixteen.

The actual Francis and Mary.

Francis and Mary on the show, but why quibble?

Next to the outrageous regard for historical accuracy in costuming, the thing that bothers me the most about this show is the deserted castle hallways and the deserted castle grounds. Love the shots of a lone couple, Mary and Francis, strolling the grounds of a castle built to house hundreds. Not one other person is present. Not the king’s guard or the queen’s guard (ancestors to the Secret Service which perhaps was somewhat secret seventy years ago when all men wore dark suits and white shirts). There’s not even a dog, cow, chicken or goat to be seen.

Look at it this way. If you’re a fan of Downton Abbey, you know how many staff is required to support a titled family of six living on an estate approximately five percent as large as that pictured in “Reign”.

During the time when the historical Mary was at French court, the hallways would have been perpetually busy with servants, guards, and guests of the king. The castle grounds would have been teeming with both people and industry that supported and served the needs of said noblemen.

But, really, who needs facts if a show works? Certainly not "Reign," – SFGATE

Don’t forget, we can’t have a hit teen show without a horror movie monster who lives in the woods and drinks human blood.

Still not enough to insure all buttons have been pushed?  Let’s throw in some BDSM and menage a trois that results in the death of a young woman. Finally, a recipe for a hit teen TV show.

This dress would have scandalized a bordello of the time.

As a writer, I wonder what would happen if Mary had been cast as the rather plain looking individual that she was. Beautiful women get recognition for being beautiful and it comes with a certain measure of power, although short lived like bankable athleticism.

How much more interesting it would have been to portray Mary as being the center of a whirlwind of  intrigue, love, sex, conspiracy, bad doings, and assassination plots – which was all true – and cast her just as she was, not beautiful.

I was excited about this show when I first saw the trailer. I thought it might interest a new generation in the study of history. I fell in love with English history because of the movie The Lion in Winter and went on to do graduate level studies because of it. I recall one conversation in particular among several graduate level students of history in which every one of us said movies had lit the spark. I hope such inspiration will always be available, but don’t look for it in “Reign”.

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About Victoria Danann:

I write cross-genre with uniquely fresh perspectives on paranormal creatures, characters, and themes. Add a dash of scifi and a flourish of fantasy to enough humor to make you laugh out loud and enough steam to make you squirm in your chair. My heroines are independent femmes with flaws and minds of their own whether they are aliens, witches, demonologists, psychics, or past life therapists. My heroes are hot and hunky, but they also have brains, character, and good manners - usually - whether they be elves, demons, berserkers, werewolves, or vampires.

My first book, My Familiar Stranger, was nominated for Best Paranormal Romance of 2012 by both Reviewers' Choice and Readers' Choice Awards. All of my books have opened on the Amazon Best Sellers list and earned Night Owl Reviews TOP PICK awards.

For books published in 2013, Black Swan won three awards. 1. Best Paranormal Romance Series 2. Best Paranormal Romance Novel - A SUMMONER'S TALE 3. Best Vampire~Shifter Novel - MOONLIGHT. 

If you're interested in me personally, I am also a classically trained musician who defected to Classic Rock music. I'm the utility player which means I play rhythm guitar, keyboards, sing back ups and a few leads. My band has covered everything (note for note) from Styx to Led Zepellin to Rush. 

I live in The Woodlands, Texas which is why I sometimes joke about being the witch in the woods. Married. Four children. One very smart, mostly black German Shepherd dog.

 WEBSITE/BLOG: www.VictoriaDanann.com  

FACEBOOK FAN PAGE: www.facebook.com/vdanann  

FACEBOOK AUTHOR PAGE: www.facebook.com/victoria.danann.9  

GOODREADS FAN GROUP: https://www.goodreads.com/group/show/108735-victoria-danann-order-of-the-black-swan

TWITTER: @vdanann

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Romance Weekly: November 11, 2014

Before I begin today I just wanted to take a minute to remember in the blogiverse the sacrifice of so many men and women who have given their lives, their health (physical and mental), their courage and their time to keeping us safe. Thank you. 

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This week we're back to the good old three questions, and we have Eden Ashe to thank for it. Without further fanfare, let's get down to it. 

1. How much free reign do you give your characters during a story?

As much as needed to get the story out there. Mind you, I do have a pretty solid idea of who the main characters are so they don't get up to too much trouble in my head. 

2. Have your characters ever done something so out of the blue that not only changed your story, but changed the tone and maybe even the genre you were originally going for? (Like your contemporary romance turned into a spicy paranormal)

Not yet. I'm a pantser writer for sure, but a lot of the story already exists in my head. I know what has to happen, it's what goes on in the middle that can be surprising. Still, I think I keep my head pretty nailed in my genre so it doesn't get out of hand. 

3. Do you have one character in your head that is sort of boss over all the rest? Or do you decide who to work on and when?

I write the story from start to finish, and often the only points of view I use are the hero and heroine. Or in the case of my Forever Geek trilogy, just Jillian. I'm the boss of them all. 

Short answers this week, but sadly, I guess I keep too tight a reign on everyone to have any big secrets to spill. The only time a character went in a different direction for me was Asher during his first appearances in Against Her Rules. Look how that turned out. He became hero of his very own book (21st Century Rake!)

So let's hop on over to the ever-fun Christy Carlyle and see if she's the boss of her characters.