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Author Archives: Elena Greene

About Elena Greene

Elena Greene grew up reading anything she could lay her hands on, including her mother's Georgette Heyer novels. She also enjoyed writing but decided to pursue a more practical career in software engineering. Fate intervened when she was sent on a three year international assignment to England, where she was inspired to start writing romances set in the Regency. Her books have won the National Readers' Choice Award, the Desert Rose Golden Quill and the Colorado Romance Writers' Award of Excellence. Her Super Regency, LADY DEARING'S MASQUERADE, won RT Book Club's award for Best Regency Romance of 2005 and made the Kindle Top 100 list in 2011. When not writing, Elena enjoys swimming, cooking, meditation, playing the piano, volunteer work and craft projects. She lives in upstate New York with her two daughters and more yarn, wire and beads than she would like to admit.


I’m celebrating St. Patrick’s Day a bit late–like today. I feel the same way about it as I do Valentine’s Day. Much of it very tacky. I am not into green food coloring in my beer, will take the genuine Guinness instead, thank you very much. Also, my own heritage is Lithuanian (more people who drink a lot and sing sad songs), so I don’t particularly feel the need to BE Irish for a day.

But there are some things I enjoy around this time. Celtic music: I put on my CDs of Loreena McKennitt, the Boys of the Lough, and others. Later today I’m going to a Celtic Songfest by the Binghamton Madrigal Choir. Meanwhile, my husband is going to make corned beef and cabbage. And I’m baking scones.

Here’s the recipe I used last year, and it worked well. Hope they turn out as well this time!

IRISH SCONES

3 cups white flour
1/2 tsp baking soda
2 tsp cream of tartar
1/2 cup butter, softened
2 TBSP sugar
3/4 cup milk
1 cup raisins and/or other dried fruit
1 egg

1. Preheat oven to 400 deg. Lightly butter two large cookie sheets.
2. In a large bowl, sift together flour, baking soda, cream of tartar and sugar. Add butter and mix well.
3. Stir in milk. (Dough is heavy.)
4. Mix in raisins (use hands if necessary).
5. Press dough on a floured surface and roll out gently to 1/2 inch thickness. Cut scones into round shapes or triangles.
6. Beat the egg, brush scones with egg wash for shine.
7. Bake 15-20 minutes or until golden brown.

Elena
LADY DEARING’S MASQUERADE
http://www.elenagreene.com/

First, a quick apology for the inherent bias in this question. It’s so unfair, yet I’ve noticed that readers who complained about too much sex in my books always castigated the heroine. “Ladies didn’t do that during the Regency” was a comment was directed at a heroine who dared have sex with her husband.

OK, I won’t debate that one 🙂 but these readers have a point, skewed as it is. Historically, women paid the highest consequences for sex, biological and social.

I love SEX AND THE CITY. In all the sexual exploration the four main characters go through, they are searching for something, even if they’re not sure what it is. And when they find it, it’s LOVE. BUT I think it’s dodgy to translate their attitudes to women of the early 19th century. Not that they didn’t have sex–and sometimes outside the rules–and sometimes enjoying it! 🙂 But they were living and loving in a different world, with different stakes.

I admit to having trouble with the Regency heroine who experiments with sex lightly. With the heroine who keeps insisting to herself and everyone else that the hero is a loathesome jerk and the last man on earth she’d ever marry, yet repeatedly has sex with him without ever worrying about social disgrace or pregnancy or destroying her sisters’ chances of making good marriages. Such heroines usually strike me as some combination of needy, confused, selfish or just TSTL.

Yet I love so many sexy Regency era romances.

Things that mitigate the “Lydia Bennet” factor: marriage of convenience, no reputation to lose, supposed infertility (though possibly reversible!), birth control (some forms existed, but it has to make sense that the characters would know about and use it). And emotional commitment.

There’s also this mysterious thing: “heat of the moment”. Sometimes it works for me, sometimes it doesn’t. I’ve written this whole post and I’m still not sure how some authors make me feel that it really is the right moment for the characters to go at it, and why sometimes it just feels too early. Is it just incredibly sensual writing? Or deep enough characterisation that I feel the love even if the characters aren’t fully aware of it?

Maybe part of it is that I want some buildup.

What do you think? When has a heroine gone over from being human and vulnerable to TSTL in matters of sex? What makes “heat of the moment” work, or not? Which authors do you think handle this the best?

Elena
LADY DEARING’S MASQUERADE
www.elenagreene.com

 

“I thought this book would never end…What a silly story about people I could care less about. . . . It gave me a headace and this book was not in the least amusing. I never even smiled once while reading it! What a waste.”

Laurie’s post about judging the RITAs had me thinking about other ways our books are judged, i.e. by readers through the medium of Amazon reviews.

A few years ago, an Amazon glitch revealed the identities of anonymous reviewers (Click here to read what the NY Times article) and confirmed what many people had long suspected: that some reviews were written by authors and/or their friends and relatives, either praising their own books or trashing those of rivals.

About a month ago there was a debate on the credibility of reader reviews at Romancing the Blog. Some argue that only writers are qualified to evaluate whether a novel is “good” or not. Some say no one should criticize unless they could do better themselves. I don’t agree with that last statement. If I go to a fine restaurant and order creme brulee, I expect it to taste good, even though I would be scared to wield a blowtorch in my own kitchen. If I need an appendectomy… well, you get the picture!

OTOH many readers can’t set aside their own personal preferences and peeves when evaluating a book. What if a restaurant critic said something like, “I hate fish, and Chef So-and-so’s salmon special was no exception”? It wouldn’t fly, but I’ve read reviews on Amazon that read that way. The reader just picked the wrong book (and sometimes covers and back blurbs are misleading, adding to the problem).

This is my feeling: that readers usually aren’t qualified to decide if a book was “good” or not. But they can say whether they liked it or not. That’s useful to other readers, but only if they explain why .

I tend to discount any of the following:

  • Raves like “Best book I ever read!” on a debut novel, sans any detail that might prove the reviewer ever read the book, posted by someone who just happens to hail from the author’s home town.
  • Incoherent reviews filled with spelling and grammatical errors (unless they are incoherently praising one of my books, of course!)
  • Anything that is too flaming. Really angry reviews make me wonder if the person has bigger problems then being disappointed with a book.

Personally, I don’t have the time to write negative reviews. I do try to write positive reviews when I’ve enjoyed a book (but I’m waaaaayyyy behind). I don’t make buying decisions based on reviews on Amazon. I also avoid reading reviews of my own books if I’m in a rough patch of writing, as negative reviews can topple wobbly self-confidence.

I do take seriously the reviews, positive or negative, that are intelligently written with some explanation for the rating they gave. If it’s one of my books, I may not take those comments to heart when writing the next book, but they always make me think. That’s not necessarily a bad thing! 🙂

When do you ever write Amazon reviews? Do you read them? Do they influence your buying decisions?

Elena
LADY DEARING’S MASQUERADE, RT Reviewers’ Choice Award nominee
www.elenagreene.com

P.S. That first quote was from an Amazon customer review for my first book. I did find, after searching, that the same reviewer had given 1’s to many Regency authors, including Mary Jo Putney and Mary Balogh.

Posted in Reading, Writing | Tagged | 11 Replies

Kathleen Bolton and Therese Walsh of Writer Unboxed make a point that fiction writers can learn from other medias of art and entertainment. I love watching figure skating, and think a well-choreographed ice dance or pairs’ routine has many parallels to a romance novel.

Sadly, in a romance I have read recently, it was as if the hero and heroine met at center ice, then skated off to opposite ends of the rink where they noodled around a bit before rejoining for a kiss at the end. In another it seemed the couple started at opposite ends and spent the entire routine taking baby steps toward one another.

It’s a syndrome writers sometimes call the Sagging Middle. No, it’s not what happens when the writer consumes too many Pepperidge Farm Mint Milanos under deadline pressure. It’s when the writer has problems coming up with a conflict that forces the couple together and makes them work for that happily-ever-after.

If we think about the hero and heroine as ice dancers, though, we’d remember:

  • It’s important for them to be together much of the time.
  • Sometimes they have to skate in perfect unison; otherwise we might not be able to imagine them as a happy married couple, twenty years from now, still linking arms and moving in rhythm.
  • But variety is necessary. When they’re together, their movements can be opposed. When they’re apart, they still relate to one another.
  • And you need challenges. Things that push your characters to their limits even if you (and the reader) are afraid they might crash. The possibility of a crash is what makes it more exciting.

Right now I’m trying to figure out what will happen in the middle of my work-in-progress. In the synopsis, this part basically reads, “interesting things will happen here, trust me”.

Fellow writers, how do you attack the Sagging Middle?

As readers, what sorts of conflicts keep you turning the pages?

Elena
LADY DEARING’S MASQUERADE, RT Reviewers’ Choice Award nominee
http://www.elenagreene.com/

Posted in Writing | Tagged | 9 Replies

Taking a break from the pleasure of viewing athletic male bodies in tight bodysuits (isn’t men’s speed skating grand?) to do the final bit of myth-busting on the history of pregnancy and childbirth.

#4: Husbands were always excluded from the birthing chamber.

Well, yes and no. Much as my husband bemoaned the loss of the “good old days” and offered to take up smoking and pacing rather than attend me through my two labors, having the husband in the delivery room isn’t really a modern invention.

It’s true that the centuries-old childbirth traditions usually excluded males. There was a female bonding ritual associated with childbirth: closing up windows and doors, lighting candles, the drinking of caudle (a hot spiced wine or ale) by the laboring woman’s female friends and relatives. Usually the man was not welcome, but that was when births were attended by midwives.

When male practitioners were starting to get in on the act, it became inappropriate to exclude husbands. Believe it or not, some opponents of man-midwifery wrote, with great zeal, about the risks of the man-midwife becoming inflamed with passion by the sight of the laboring woman. I can just picture that, remembering what a femme fatale I must have looked during my two labors!

So husbands were not as a rule excluded from the birthing chamber. Old-fashioned female friends and relatives of the woman might complain or try to enforce the earlier ritual, but during the 18th century and into the 19th, the old rituals of childbirth were eroding, especially among the monied classes.

During Victorian times, when “chloroform-and-forceps” births became more common, the moral support provided by friends and family was increasingly replaced with medication. Doctors began to exclude any “unnecessary” persons from the birthing chamber, claiming they only distressed the patient anyway. By the time hospital births became more common (in the 1920’s and 30’s) everyone was excluded until the return to natural childbirth of our own time. And now there are some women who believe we should return to the old patterns of childbirth, with women helping women.

Anyway, during “our period” husbands sometimes did attend their wives. Prince Leopold was quite devoted to Princess Charlotte and attended during her 50-hour fatal ordeal. So on a happier note, it is perfectly acceptable for a proper Regency hero to attend the heroine during the birth of their child. It is equally possible that a scummy husband would go off hunting.

So who do you think about men in the delivery room? If you lived in the Regency, what might you prefer? Would you like a return to the old ritual? How would you feel about having your mother, mother-in-law, sisters, cousins, girlfriends and neighbors all there egging you on? Would it feel supportive or overwhelming? Who would you not want to have there?

And oh yes, I was modern enough to want my husband there. He does a wicked neck massage that really helped. Bucking other trends, though, I refused to do that “hee-hee-hoo-hoo” breathing. And promised my husband that anyone bringing a camera or any recording device near me before the baby and I were cleaned up would die a quick but painful death. 🙂

Elena
LADY DEARING’S MASQUERADE, an RT Reviewers’ Choice Award nominee
www.elenagreene.com

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