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No, not for Hallowe’en!

I spoke at a workshop a few weeks ago with some other historical writers, and when we asked for questions, a woman asked this:

If I’d lived two hundred years ago, what would I be?
Chances are, we told her, you wouldn’t be a member of the aristocracy, or own land or wealth. If you lived in America, more than likely you’d be someone’s property. Adam Hochschild, author of Bury The Chains: Prophets and Rebels in the Fight to Free an Empire’s Slaves calculates that at the beginning of the English abolitionist movement, approximately two-thirds of the world’s population was in some form of slavery or bondage.

So…you’re living in England during the Regency. You’re not Lady Something or the Hon. Miss Something-Else. You’re not even a gentleman’s daughter. You have to earn a living.
If you were born in the country, you might be able to stay there–always assuming you weren’t forced out by foreclosure–or you might seek a job in a mill or factory in one of the rapidly growing industrial cities.

Or, you might go into service. Here’s another amazing statistic: in the eighteenth century, one-third of all the population (with the exception of the aristocracy) was in service at some time in their lives—usually until their mid-twenties. About one-third of London’s population were servants. Some people, working in the houses of the rich, rose in the ranks to enter the servant elite as butler, housekeeper, or lady’s maid; even though this illustration is from the mid-eighteenth century, you can see how well-dressed this lady’s maid is. Servants earned room and board, plus “perks”—for a ladies maid or valet, cast-off clothing they could wear or sell—or “vails,” tips from visitors usually given to footmen. The maidservant illustration is from the mid-nineteenth century, but gives you an idea of what it was like being at the beck and call of a bell, and negotiating stairs in a long skirt, possibly carrying something worse than a tea service. Becoming a servant for a few years gave you upward mobility; hopefully you’d have saved enough to leave, marry, and own your own business—a shop, maybe—and have a servant or two of your own.

But life was uncertain and who knows where you might end up (another interesting statistic, although one I find difficult to believe: one third of the female population of London during the nineteenth century were prostitutes). You might find yourself reviewed in Harris’s List of Covent Garden Ladies, a sort of Michelin Guide to whores for the discerning gentleman.

Your best bet, really, as we told the woman smart enough to ask this interesting question, was to marry as well as you could.

So what what would you be?

Janet

Well, I finished the costumes and they were fantastic if I say so myself. (My kids had decided to “be” Felicity and Elizabeth, the Revolutionary War era American Girls, long gowns, lace, caps and all, of course with the historically accurate Velcro closures.) The cookies were baked, class parties held, pumpkins carved and chocolate shared.

Now that Halloween motherly duties are over, I’m as ready as I’ll ever be for the NaNoWriMo plunge. It’s the first day and I’m one of about 70,000 writers participating in the challenge to write at least 50,000 words of a novel by Dec 1.

Most of the WriMos are unpublished. Many are taking their very first shot at novel writing. I commend these newbies, because of all the people who say they’d like to write a novel someday, these brave souls have actually defined “someday” as TODAY.

I didn’t find it surprising to hear that the success rate in past challenges has been about 17%. My guess is that some participants get crushed by reality early on. I know there are other “failures” who fell short of the goal but still wrote considerable chunks. Even getting halfway is an achievement. 25,000 words equals about 100 pages of manuscript. Even if it needs major revisions, this isn’t bad for a month’s work!

I’m participating for a special reason of my own. After six books, I’ve found it increasingly difficult to tackle first drafts. I have put more pressure on myself to be brilliant, to be efficient, with the result that I self-censor too much. I’ve chosen not to follow up on intriguing ideas because I couldn’t understand the characters’ motivations, or they seemed historically implausible (not impossible), or because I was afraid readers wouldn’t like them, etc… The problem is, if you cut them off too many times, the girls in the basement (or the subconscious mind, or the muse, or whatever you call the dark, strange place where ideas come from) go on strike.

So for this month, I’m going to ignore all those worries and trust that strange dark place. I’m going to write what I feel like, for pleasure and for wordcount. I’m going to trust that if I write a scene I love, I’ll be able to figure out how to make it fit believably into a story. I’m going to relinquish control to the girls in the basement. Fly on the bat’s back and trust that I won’t fall.

Wish me luck!

Elena
LADY DEARING’S MASQUERADE, RT Reviewers’ Choice, Best Regency Romance of 2005
www.elenagreene.com

P.S. The picture here is “Ariel on a Bat’s Back” by Henry Singleton, first exhibited in 1819, from the Tate.

Halloween is all about scary things, and, let me tell you, writing a “Road Trip” story is enough to give me a fright!

It did seem like an excellent idea originally. Send my hero and heroine on a road trip. It put them into close contact, forced them to spend night together and seemed exciting, because the villains were chasing them. Great idea!

But I forgot I had to have them travel from real places, like Liverpool, Penrith, Carlisle, Edinburgh. At least I’ve been to Edinburgh and I did look out the window of the bus to see what the countryside looked like, but that had been in the summer and this story takes place in the autumn.

For this road trip, I had to figure out how what route the would take from Liverpool to Edinburgh. My friend Delle Jacobs (Her Majesty, The Prince of Toads) came to my rescue with the coaching route between the two towns. But then I had to figure out what the land would look like from one location to the other, and what villages might have been in between the larger towns.

The internet came to my rescue. I discovered that mapquest.com has UK maps and the little town names were right next to the highlighted line. Then I discovered Google Earth also would show the route and give a hint to the terrain as well.

Next I searched on the various town names to find as many images as I could so I could see what the villages might have looked like.

Then I had to figure out how my hero and heroine would travel on this road trip- public coach? mail coach? Post-chaise?
I decided to have them ride horses, which I know very little about, my experience with the animals being confined to pony rides as a child. My friends from the Beau Monde and the Regency Loop came to my rescue there, with decisions about issues such as sidesaddles and how far they could travel in a day.

Then, of course, I had to write the story.

My hero and heroine are not quite to Edinburgh at this moment, but they are getting there….

Do you even like road trip stories, now that I’m almost done with mine and it is too late to change it now?

Do you mind if an author accidentally puts in some moors where mountains should be? Will you forgive her such mistakes and trust that she really did try to get it right?

Cheers!
Diane

Coming to bookstores Nov 1 (That is THIS WEDNESDAY!), Diane’s “A Twelfth Night Tale” in Mistletoe Kisses, Harlequin Historicals Regency Christmas Anthology


Tuesday is Halloween! This is by far my favorite holiday–there are no presents to buy, no relatives to argue with, just candy and costumes and spooky things. What could be better? (As you can see from the photo, which is a picture of my parents’ house decorated for the holiday, Halloween has long been a big deal in the McCabe family). It made me curious–what was Halloween like in Regency times?

A few factoids I found while scanning the Internet: Halloween has its roots in the Celtic festival of Samhain, celebrated November 1, halfway between the Autumn and Winter solstices. This was a time of year for endings–harvests brought in, firewood laid on for winter. And, as the old was being “stitched” to the new, it was thought that the veil between this world and the next was very thin, and spirits, both good and eeeeevil, could roam among us. One of their traditions at this time seems familiar to us today–houses were lit by rustic lanterns known as “neeps,” carved from turnips and rutabagas and beets (pumpkins came from the New World in the 17th century). Flickering lights were set out in hopes of welcoming homes the souls of loved ones and chasing away unwelcome bad spirits.

When the Romans conquered Britain in the year 43 AD, they brought with them their own religion, but liked incorporating holidays already in place (not ones to shy away from a party, those Romans!). They added a celebration to their goddess Pomona, which leads to our bobbing for apples and eating candy apples. Of course, then the Romans in turn were replaced by the Christian Church, who went on to change the holiday yet again, trying to replace it with festivals of Christian meaning. All Saints’ Day, a feast honoring all the saints who don’t have their very own feast days, was November 1, with a vigil the night before. All Souls’ Day was placed in November 2, a day for remembering lost loved ones still in purgatory. The night of the vigil, the 31st, was known as the “Hallowed Evening,” shotened eventually to Halloween.

In 1786, Robert Burns’ poem Halloween showed that even by Georgian times the holiday was going strong. The poem talks about the “tricks” of the day, as well as time-honored superstitions like eating an apple in front of a mirror in order to see your beloved (apples again!). Even though there wasn’t really a Halloween as we know it in the Regency, there was a hige fascination with the Gothic, the weird, the spooky, with books like The Mysteries of Udolpho (and Northanger Abbey!), Frankenstein (1816), and, on these shores, The Legend of Sleepy Hollow (1820). (I have a friend who pesters me every Halloween to watch the Johnny Depp movie with him, but I refuse, having been far too frightened by a viewing of The Shining a few years ago to ever, EVER, watch another scary movie!).

There are also a few Regency romances out there with Halloween settings–some that come to mind are Sandra Heath’s Halloween Magic and The Magic Jack O’Lantern, Mona Gedney’s Lady Hilary’s Halloween (and Anne Barbour’s book of the same name), and Teresa DesJardien’s Haunted Hearts. I even did a couple of books that, while not set specifically at Halloween, feature ghosts and masquerade balls (A Loving Spirit and One Touch of Magic).

What are some of your own favorite Halloween traditions and books? And what is your costume this year? (I’m going to be a pirate!). Happy Halloween!

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