Actually, I’m not talking about the mistake of taking on a career tightening Prinny’s corset, though I think this poor fellow deserves combat pay for his efforts.

I’m talking about the more egregious mistakes regarding servants I’ve seen once in a while in Regency-set romances.

This past weekend I listened to a children’s song by Tom Chapin in which a royal footman sang in an imitation Cockney accent. But what I can deal with in a children’s song I find harder to take in a historical romance. I have read stories in which a butler or valet spoke Cockney and I have to admit that grates. It’s as if the author felt it was necessary to clarify the differences in social status.

Yet some authors make the opposite error. In one book I read a scene where the hero, on returning home, warmly and publicly greets a man on the stairs using his first name. For a moment I thought there was a brother or good friend the author hadn’t mentioned before. It turned out to be the butler. It didn’t ruin the book for me but it did confuse me for a scene.

Yet I think this is something that is easily researched or even just absorbed through enough reading in the period. It’s not hard to learn the names and roles of various servants. Maybe the relationship between them and their masters is a bit more of a subtle thing. The way I understand it, servants often took their tone from the households they served. In a respectable household, the servants who dealt most closely with the family members (and as you can see some of them had to deal quite closely!) and also those who dealt with guests were expected to be respectable and well-spoken themselves. Of course, in a more ramshackle household the servants could run amok, too. It’s all part of the characterization.

Georgette Heyer wrote some of the strongest servant characters in her novels, like the domineering old Nurse in VENETIA, or Keighley, the groom in SYLVESTER. I don’t think I’ve read a romance in which a servant had a romantic role but I’ve read a few in which the heroes or heroines pretended to be a servant. Probably my favorite of those is Loretta Chase’s THE SANDALWOOD PRINCESS.

So what are some of your favorite servant (or pretending to be) characters? Do you like it when an author plays with class differences in a romance? Are there errors in depiction of servants that grate on you?

Elena
www.elenagreene.com

[She] is the person with whom, in a room full of silly, boastful people, you will exchange a silent, speaking glance that becomes a smile; the person to whom you never need to explain yourself laboriously; the person you will not compete with.

[She] is that person you realize, deep down and at once, will be your friend.

This wonderful definition of female friendship is surprisingly written by a man in his book Indiscretion, a tribute to Jane Austen–Austen with balls (and not the waltzing kind), if you like–a truly fabulous read. Austen didn’t write many strong female friendships–the whole area seems to be full of pitfalls for her. Many of the friendships she depicts are skin deep–Marianne Dashwood cultivating Lucy Steele to find out the truth about Edward, for instance; or Catherine Morland’s flighty friendship with the flighty Isabella Thorpe. I’ve never really been sure whether Elizabeth Bennett’s friendship with Charlotte Lucas is deep enough, or shallow enough, to survive Charlotte’s marriage to Mr. Collins.

Austen’s relationships between sisters are much stronger and more subtle, and I think that’s a convention romance has adopted. Jude Morgan’s Indiscretion is the only romance I’ve read (and I’m very poorly read in romance, I’m the first to admit it) where a female friendship rings true.

Who are your favorite fictional sets of friends or sisters, and which would you rather read about?

Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, magic power in it. Begin it now. – Goethe

This is just one inspirational quote from a collection I’ve been accumulating over time. It’s a good one. And yet beginning “it” (the writing) “now” isn’t as easy as it sounds.

I usually start writing soon after the kids get on the bus. But getting them there can be a hectic process: lunches and snacks to pack, fashion emergencies to solve, the violin to be remembered on orchestra days, etc… Making the transition from harried mom to focused writer isn’t trivial. What helps me is ritual.

First I make sure I won’t get cold from sitting quietly. Having a sweater handy keeps me from jumping up and getting sidetracked by some household task. I make sure I have coffee or tea at my elbow. I close the door, even if no one else is in the house, as it gives me a sense of being safe in my writing “cave”. I turn on music–usually classical instrumental, as lyrics distract me from the words I’m supposed to be writing. At present I’m in an impressionist mood and my CD player is loaded with Ravel and Debussy. On another day it could be Mozart and Beethoven or Elgar and Vaughn Williams. Then I light a candle.

It all may seem rather fussy–and perhaps time-wasting–but it works. These things help me settle down and leave the mundane world behind.

Do any of you have rituals to help you transition between different roles? What are they? Have they changed over time?

Elena
www.elenagreene.com