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Monthly Archives: October 2012

In my internet perusing I came across this post at one of my favorite websites: Letters of Note.

Picture via Wikemedia. Charles Lamb by William Hazlitt

Two things:

One: Lamb was a hottie.
Two: He could wax effing eloquent about a cold. Who among us hasn’t felt like this:

If you told me the world will be at an end to-morrow, I should just say, “Will it?” I have not volition enough left to dot my i’s, much less to comb my eyebrows; my eyes are set in my head; my brains are gone out to see a poor relation in Moorfields, and they did not say when they’d come back again; my skull is a Grub-street attic to let—not so much as a joint-stool or a crack’d jordan left in it; my hand writes, not I, from habit, as chickens run about a little, when their heads are off. O for a vigorous fit of gout, cholic, toothache&-an earwig in my auditory, a fly in my visual organs; pain is life—the sharper, the more evidence of life; but this apathy, this death!

Dude. That was one miserable cold. Go read the entire letter.

Here’s one of his poems:

A Timid Grace Sits Trembling in her Eye

A timid grace sits trembling in her eye,
As loath to meet the rudeness of men’s sight,
Yet shedding a delicious lunar light
That steeps in kind oblivious ecstasy
The care-crazed mind, like some still melody:
Speaking most plain the thoughts which do possess
Her gentle sprite: peace, and meek quietness,
And innocent loves, and maiden purity:
A look whereof might heal the cruel smart
Of changed friends, or fortune’s wrongs unkind:
Might to sweet deeds of mercy move the heart
Of him who hates his brethren of mankind.
Turned are those lights from me, who fondly yet
Past joys, vain loves, and buried hopes regret.

And another

A Parody

Lazy-bones, lazy-bones, wake up and peep;
The Cat’s in the cupboard, your Mother’s asleep.
There you sit snoring, forgetting her ills:
Who is to give her her Bolus and Pills?
Twenty-five Angels must come into Town,
All for to help you to make your new gown-
Dainty aerial Spinsters & Singers:
Aren’t you asham’d to employ such white fingers?
Delicate Hands, unaccustom’d to reels,
To set ‘em a washing at poor body’s wheels?
Why they came down is to me all a riddle,
And left hallelujah broke off in the middle.
Jove’s Court & the Presence Angelical cut,
To eke out the work of a lazy young slut.
Angel-duck, angel-duck, wingèd & silly,
Pouring a watering pot over a lily,
Gardener gratuitous, careless of pelf,
Leave her to water her Lily herself,
Or to neglect it to death, if she chuse it;
Remember, the loss is her own if she lose it.

A Dramatic Fragment

‘Fie upon’t!
All men are false, I think. The date of love
Is out, expired, its stories all grown stale,
O’erpast, forgotten, like an antique tale
Of Hero and Leander.’

-John Woodvil

All are not false. I knew a youth who died
For grief, because his Love proved so,
And married with another.
I saw him on the wedding-day,–
For he was present in the church that day,
In festive bravery decked,
As one that came to grace the ceremony,–
I marked him when the ring was given:
His Countenance never changed;
And, when the priest pronounced the marriage blessing,
He put a silent prayer up for the bride–
For so his moving lip interpreted.
He came invited to the marriage-feast
With the bride’s friends,
And was the merriest of them all that day:
But they who knew him best called it feigned mirth;
And others said
He wore a smile like death upon his face.
His presence dashed all the beholders’ mirth,
And he went away in tears.
What followed then?
O then
He did not, as neglected suitors use,
Affect a life of solitude in shades,
But lived
In free discourse and sweet society
Among his friends who knew his gentle nature best.
Yet ever, when he smiled,
There was a mystery legible in his face;
But whoso saw him, said he was a man
Not long for this world–
And true it was; for even then
The silent love was feeding at his heart,
Of which he died;
Nor ever spoke word of reproach;
Only, he wished in death that his remains
Might find a poor grave in some spot not far
From his mistress’ family vault-being the place
Where one day Anna should herself be laid.

I keep forgetting how much I like poetry. It’s good to be reminded.

 

I am behind on my book so today you get this boring post plus some pictures. What the hey.

OK, wait, I have a better idea. Tell me in the comments what you’re reading now. Love? Hate? Meh?

I am reading Sherry Thomas’s The Bride Of Larkspear. It’s the erotic novel written by a character in one of her books and given to another character in one of her books and it’s really awesome so far. It’s self-pubbed, by the way. The two characters involved in the dirty book exchange are the hero and heroine of her current release, Temptintg the Bride. I haven’t yet read Tempting the Bride, it’s sitting in my Kindle. But it is the most amazing experience reading this novella and knowing I have the whole story yet to uncover.

It’s really fun and dirty and all the lovely emotion of Thomas.

Other reading includes Sherman Alexie’s Blasphemy. I am savoring the stories.

I bought a collection of erotica by an author I won’t mention.  Fail. I got confused in the first paragraph and then gave up after trying twice to make sense of it. The weird thing is, the writing wasn’t bad — it wasn’t the incoherent mess that can pop up in books you strongly suspect did not go through an editorial process. But she was plainly attempting to show off and you know what? No. How about you read what you wrote and fix it?

On that note, over at the Popular Romance blog, I wrote a post about the origins of the worst writing advice ever. (Did you see what I did there? I am very smooth.)

Here is a picture of a metal peacock:

This is a photo from nature. Which I took myself.

 

What a week. And it’s only Wednesday. I just want this post to be a big sigh of relief as well as sorrow.

To my fellow Riskies who were in the path of hurricane Sandy, I am SO glad you’re OK.

I want to cry when I think of the lives lost while I thank goodness for the First Responders, who put their lives on the line, and for all the people who worked in the background before, during, after, and in the days ahead.

I’ve donated to the Red Cross relief effort and will surely do so again in the coming days and weeks. We’re only just beginning to get a handle on what it will take to recover.


Hello everyone! Gail Eastwood here. I’m popping in for a visit thanks to the kind invitation of our Risky hostesses, most particularly Elena Greene, who has given me the opportunity to guest blog on first Fridays of alternate months. I am delighted to be here to share your gracious company and conversation, and also to help Elena gain a little more time to work on her newest work-in-progress. I have read a little of it and can’t wait for her to get it done!!

Some of you already know me, or may remember that I wrote Regencies for Signet back in the day, but for those who don’t, here’s a link to an interview Elena did with me a few months ago on this blog. Coming back to the writing realm after ten years makes me feel a little like Rip Van Winkle at times, so much as changed! It is indeed a brave new world, but I’m excited to jump into it.

If I may beg your indulgence, for this post I’d like to go back to the topic of cover art, picking up from Elena’s post of Sept 14. Elena shared her dilemma over “branding” her sexy short story Lady Em’s Indiscretion through her cover art. My own dilemma, as I prepared the first e-book reissue that I am doing myself, The Lady from Spain, was whether or not to go with a cover style similar to what the new Signet reissues have, or try something different.

The Signet reissue e-books have taken a very different approach to their cover design, and I have yet to see anyone discussing it or reacting to it, and I’m dying to know what people think! Three of my books are being done this way.

As you can see below, I opted for “different” for the ones I am doing myself–all part of the grand experiment. For LFS, I wanted something that would suggest the suspense of the story and still atleast hint at the Regency time period. The story takes place mostly in London… The reissue of The Captain’s Dilemma, my French prisoner-of-war story pubbed in 1995, is not ready yet, but I will be working on converting it next!

 

Here are the old versions of those covers. You can see more on my website or on my author pages at Amazon.

What “branding” messages do you get from the new ones? Like them? Dislike them? Do you want to see the characters, and if so, do you want to see both hero and heroine? What would you do instead?
If you’re interested in covers and/or how the designs have changed over time, here’s a link to a great website devoted to covers done by artist Allan Kass, who painted many Signet and other covers over a long career. It’s fun to look for your favorite authors in the archives, and sometimes recognize a favorite book!
Finally, I’m offering a free copy of The Lady from Spainto one lucky commenter, whose name will be drawn and announced by next Friday. So, please, join the conversation! And if you’d like to be part of the drawing, please be sure to include your preference for Kindle or Nook (the only formats available currently) or if you’re willing to wait for one of the other formats which will be available soon. Oh, and your email address!
Thanks so much for letting me visit with you today!
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