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Author Archives: Amanda McCabe/Laurel McKee

About Amanda McCabe/Laurel McKee

Writer (as Amanda McCabe, Laurel McKee, Amanda Carmack), history geek, yoga enthusiast, pet owner!

Hi Riskies!! Thanks for asking me over. I’m a great fan of your blog–I mean, come on, who could resist RISKY Regencies?

Q: What first gave you the idea for Claiming the Courtesan?

A: Ideas are mysterious beasts, aren’t they? I’d written a story about a woman with all the protections Regency society offered–money, family, position. So I started thinking about a woman who had no safety net. What if she was left responsible for people she loved when little more than a child herself? What if she came from a strong religious background so the choice she was forced to make was anathema?

Q: Did you encounter any challenges researching? Any new or surprising historical information you discovered?

A: I’d been unconsciously gathering information for this story over a long period. You can’t travel to the Scottish Highlands and Islands without being aware of the tragic scale of the clearances of the 18th and 19th centuries. You can’t visit stately homes in the UK without thinking of the psychological growth of a sensitive child who inherits all that power and isolation.

I’d already written the first draft of CTC when I discovered the story of Elizabeth Armistead and Charles James Fox. She was a courtesan (one who had a much rougher time than I ever gave Verity) and he was a famous politician from an aristocratic family. As mature adults, he and Elizabeth fell in love–she sounds like a genuinely sweet, intelligent woman and I think he was lucky to find her–and eventually married very happily. She, of course, was never accepted in society, but there was a certain amount of contact with his family. Elizabeth and my Verity were similar in many ways, not least that they married into society but were permanently outside it.

I was also surprised, again after I finished the first draft (I continue researching while I’m writing the book because it keeps me in the world of the story), quite how many dukes DID marry their low-born mistresses. What I thought was wildly daring concept was firmly grounded in life. Although the real dukes usually made sure they had a family first with an upper-class woman to keep the succession untainted by notoriety.

Q: We pride ourselves on writing “Risky Regencies”–tell us what’s risky about your book!

A: When I started writing Claiming the Courtesan, what was risky was that it was a much darker, more emotional story than I had ever attempted. Given that I’d completed my first manuscript more than twenty years earlier and hadn’t sold a book, it never occurred to me that this book would be the breakthrough. Especially as it featured a woman who slept with men for money. It seemed less commercial than my previous project, a romantic comedy set in 1817 which had all those lovely Regency elements like balls and dresses and elopements and duels. This one had two really complex characters and a mountain of difficult issues to deal with. But I couldn’t get the story or the characters out of my mind. So I did what I always do–I wrote the story that was true to those people and what those specific individuals would do in that set of circumstances. I thought it would just go under the bed with its brethren to gather dust bunnies until the crack of doom.

Then a weird thing happened. This book seemed to get people excited. Taking a risk with the emotional content paid off, wrenching as it was to write. The book, then called No Ordinary Duchess, did really well in contests, the first agent who read the full signed me, it finalled in the Golden heart, and sold at an auction between three publishers.

Claiming the Courtesan came out March 27th, and I’ve been utterly astonished by the attention it’s receiving. Being true to those characters has created a really emotional reaction in people who have read it. A proportion of the response, admittedly, has been anger and dismay. But unless I’m true to the characters, I can’t write. Does my story prove risky? As Austin Powers would say “Yeah, baby!”

Q: Who were some of your early writing influences?

A: I loved Enid Blayton and fairy tales when I was a kid. Then Barbara Cartland and Victoria Holt and Harlequin romances (they were pretty tame in those days, though I remember Anne Mather slathered on sexual tension that made my girlish heart beat faster). Then I discovered American historical romances, especially Kathleen Woodiwiss. I read The Wolf and the Dove and said to myself “This is what I want to do when I grow up!” I loved Anya Seton and Rosemary Hawley Jarman–a passionate historical, even if it has a sad ending, is a real addiction. The Brontes, Austen. Probably my favorite books of all time are Dorothy Dunnett’s Lymond Chronicles. They offer a reading experience unlike any other, and the chance to meet one of the most fascinating, charismatic, complex characters in fiction, the gorgeous if tortured Francis Crawford of Lymond.

Q: Tell us about your next book!

A: Untouched comes out as an Avon Romatic Treasure in December 2007. It’s another “Regency noir”, although the story isn’t linked with CTC. I’m putting the cover blurb and an excerpt on my website at the start of May, but if you want a peek try here.

Dear guests, leave a comment on the blog for the chance to win an autographed copy of CLAIMING THE COURTESAN! The winner will be announced on Tuesday, April 17. If you have not done so already, please read Bertie the Beau’s Official Risky Regencies Contest Rules.

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From Dictionary.com
Talisman–a stone, ring, or other object, engraved with figures or characters supposed to possess occult powers and worn as an amulet or charm
Superstition–a belief or notion, not based on reason or knowledge, in or of the ominous significance of a particular thing, circumstance, occurence, proceeding, or the like
Hula–a sinuous Hawaiian native dance with intricate arm movements that tell a story in pantomime, usually danced to rhythmic drumming and accompanied by chanting
This post goes along with Megan’s yesterday (though Friday the 13th passed here with no grave occurences–it was just cold and rainy all day!). I’ve often found artists of all sorts (sometimes including myself!) to be a rather superstitious lot. Shakespearean actors and their “Scottish play,” for example, or an art major I knew in college who would only work at the easel while wearing his “lucky shoes” (an ancient pair of very smelly Converse, layered with varicolored oil paint splotches). Dancers might be the worst of all. When I was into ballet, everyone I knew had their own collection of talismans and lucky charms (necklaces, rocks, and troll dolls mostly, not the LC cereal, though there was this one girl who claimed if you ate the little marshmallows without milk they had no calories…). Everything had to be arranged and aligned just right to bring good fortune to a performance or rehersal. I had a special way of tying my shoe ribbons.
My desk is a little universe of talismans, designed to lure my muse and keep goblins (self-doubt, writer’s block, stubborn characters) away. I have two small, flat stones fished from an icy-cold riverbed in Taos. A little Buddha with a slot for tea light candles (yellow, to inspire creativity). A statue of St. Teresa of Avila (one of the patron saints of writers!) that belonged to my grandmother. Pictures of actors and actresses who resemble my characters, or who I just happen to like. And, most important, Leilani, whose photo you see here.
Leilani is a bobbling hula dancer figure, meant to go on a dashboard, that I bought at an ABC store on Maui. ABC stores are wondrous places, where you can buy flip flops, sunblock, a plastic tiki god, a jumbo box of chocolate-covered macademia nuts, and a bottle of pineapple wine, all in one easy stop. Leilani is my best good luck charm. When I get stuck in my writing, I just reach out and make her bobble, look into her weirdly painted eyes, and ask her for inspiration. She usually says things like “Give up on that Regency duke and write about palm trees and beaches!” But she’s better than nothing.
Do you have any good luck charms? What’s on your desk today?

I just got the cover for my next book (out in August from Harlequin Historicals! Pre-order now!), and am so excited I had to share. Her gown looks a little more “Restoration” than “1520s Venice” to me, and the hero in my book actually has long hair, but what the heck. I love the colors, the gondola, and the fact that my name is really BIG. That’s the important thing. 🙂

I was first inspired to write this story a couple of years ago, when I went to an exhibit at the Museum of International Folk Art in Santa Fe called “Carnival!”. Each section was devoted to a different city–New Orleans, Rio, etc. The Rio room was great fun, bright and noisy with samba filling the air (videos and music were used as well as artifacts and costumes), while the Venice room was elegant and mysterious. There were elaborate costumes and masks, beautiful paintings, even a gondola. The perfect spot, I thought, for an elegant and mysterious heroine to hide out, circa 1525! (Venice, that is, not the museum, though it’s great, too)

The carnival (or Carnevale di Venezia, loosely translated from the Latin for “Farewell, meat!”) was first recorded in 1268, and immediately gained a reputation for a subversive and naughty festival, running from a few weeks before Ash Wednesday and ending Shrove (or Fat) Tuesday. On Ash Wednesday, the party was over. Over the centuries, various laws were passed to try and curb the celebrations, including banning the wearing of masks, but that didn’t last too long (thankfully for my characters, who go about in disguise half the time!). People were allowed to wear masks all the time between the festival of San Stefano (St. Stephen’s Day, December 26) and midnight on Shrove Tuesday.

Venetian masks are usually made with leather or papier-mache, with traditional shapes including the bauta (a mask that covers only the upper part of the face) and the moretta, a black velvet ladies’ mask originating in France. The most common is the white volto, worn with a black tricorn and cloak (very stark and mysterious!).

The 18th century was the height of Carnival hedonism. In 1797, Venice became part of the Austrian Kingdom of Lombardy-Venetia, when Napoleon signed the treaty of Campo Formio. It went into a long decline, before being banned by the Fascist government in the 1930s. In the 1980s, it saw a revival which grows to this day.

Some Carnival links:
Official City of Venice Carnival Site
Casanova Venetian Masks
Carta Alta

I would love to have a Carnival party and invite everyone here at RR! If my house wasn’t so tiny, and I had a canal in the back yard for floating gondolas. Another chance to play dress-up! What would YOUR costume be?

What’s one of the main reasons I’m obsessed with Dancing With the Stars (go, Apolo!)? The clothes, of course! So sparkly and fringe-y and fun. I’ve always loved playing dress-up, and subscribe to way more fashion magazines than is probably healthy. The truth is, I can never actually afford Prada or Marni, and I would never try to squeeze myself into those Edyta-style get-ups from DWTS. But I can always dream! And buy spiffy dance shoes.
One of the earliest of the high-fashion, brand-name modistes was Rose Bertin, favorite designer to Marie Antoinette. Born in Abbeville in 1747, Rose Bertin set up shop as a marchande de modes (female fashion merchant) in 1773, in a luxurious boutique on the rue Saint-Honore. In 1774, she expanded her offerings to include what came to be known as the ‘pouf,’ wild headresses to go with the enormous dresses. These were made in conjunction with Marie Antoinette’s equally snooty and extravagent hairdresser, Leonard, and were built on a scaffolding of wire, cloth, gauze, horsehair, fake hair, and the woman’s own hair, teased up off the forehead. After being doused with powder, the coiffure could become the canvas for all sorts of still-lifes and props (ships, windmills, babies, you name it).
Through her rich clients the duchesse de Chartres and the princesse de Lamballe, Bertin came to the notice of Marie Antoinette, who had just become queen and was feeling her fashion wings (or wild oats). A style was born. One of their earliest collaborations was a pouf titled ‘coiffure a l’Iphigenie’ (to pay tribute to Gluck’s opera), quickly followed by the ‘pouf a l’inoculation,’ to celebrate her husband’s successeful smallpox innoculation. Bertin also designed the queen’s coronation gown, an elaborate affair heavily embroidered with gold thread and sapphires, which almost had to make the trip to Rheims on a special stretcher (until the lady-in-waiting balked at carrying it).
Bertin’s creations (which cost roughly twenty times what a skilled artisan would earn in a year) helped establish France as the center of the fashion industry, which has persisted to this day. But Bertin, reportedly an abrasive woman, was deeply resented, both by the aristocracy (who felt the queen treated her, a mere tradeswoman, with too much favor and distinction), and by the middle and lower classes. She was snooty to would-be customers (for example, refusing to outfit the ‘wife of a mere prosecutor from Bordeaux!’), and the wild extravagence of her creations was derided in the midst of depressions and famines. As a woman, Bertin inspired particular resentment for taking precedence over her male colleagues, and was sneeringly called Marie Antoinette’s ‘Minister of Fashion’ and ‘Minister of Trinkets.’
During the Revolution, Bertin eventually moved her business to London, returning to Paris in 1795, where Josephine was one of her main customers. But fashions had changed, and she soon retired to her house in the town of Epinay sur Seine, where she died in 1813.
A great source for info on this period is Caroline Weber’s Queen of Fashion: What Marie Antoinette Wore to the Revolution.
What are some of your favorite fashion eras or designers? Anyone watching Dancing With the Stars???
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