Claudia Harbaugh's Blog

http://bit.ly/19CHyAF

Short post today. I just finished my book trailer and I wanted to share it with you. It only takes a minute…literally. So take a gander and let me know what you think.

I’m a writer. It’s kind of new for me so I like to say it out loud. I write historical romance novels. Actually, I’ve written one, a romance novel called Her Grace in Disgrace that takes place in England’s Regency period. What, you may ask, is the Regency? I’m glad you asked. I’ll do my best to answer your impromptu question.

The Regency period in England technically spans from 1811-1820, the exact period that Prince George was Regent (which basically means “stand-in king”) in England during his father’s battle with mental illness. More commonly, however, the era is thought to encompass 1795-1830, the dates that the man who would be George IV influenced British society.  And influence society he did. Prinnie, as he was commonly called behind his back, was larger than life. Literally, the man’s girth grew to match his many excesses. From his passionate romantic entanglements, to his love of food and grand architecture, the future George IV’s passions and pursuits eased their way into the mainstream life of the elite as the 18th century  gave way to the 19th. And it is due to this extravagance and opulence, which defined the upper classes of the Regency, that it is one of the most romanticized eras in history. And why not? The exquisite clothes, the palatial mansions, the lavish balls and the heart stopping romance. Sigh! It’s enough to make a girl’s heart flutter. But, once the fluttering has passed, this modern woman takes a breath and thinks about what it would really be like to live in Regency England. Let’s take a look at just a few things that might not be as romantic as they sound.

Transportation:

Transportation in the Regency was quite simple. On land, it either involved a horse or using your own two feet. Since self-powered transportation is notoriously slow, most likely you would have to succumb sooner or later to the “horse-powered” variety. Why you could achieve such staggering speeds as 16-18 mph on a fast horse in good conditions!  

It’s not all about speed of course. Horses are beautiful creatures and have always had an aura of romance about them…until you get up close to one. Oh, they are still beautiful, graceful creatures, but they smell! And if you find a pleasant one that would enjoy a good nose rub, you’ll find that those kidskin gloves that you are wearing will be a different shade than before said nose rub. For those of you who are not inclined to getting up close and personal with your transportation, then a carriage would be your best bet. Carriages were as varied as cars are today and went from the stripped down version to the sporty variety to the luxury model. However, being removed from the “horse power” of your vehicle would not make the smells go away. Picture London or any large city and visualize the fumes emanating from the thousands of cars on the road. Now think of that as horse poop. Enough said.

Fashion:

Humans of every generation are slaves to fashion in some way or other. Women don’t totter around on 3-inch heels because they are comfortable! The Regency, of course, was no different. The elite of the Regency period, called the ton, dictated the fashion dos and don’ts. They were the “What Not to Wear” of British society.  There were very strict rules about what to wear and when. Morning gowns were worn at home in the mornings and afternoons. If you went out for a ride in the carriage, there were carriage dresses or if you got about on foot, there were walking dresses. If you felt like a ride in the park on your favorite horse, you would don a riding habit. In the evening, you would change for dinner and wear an evening dress, unless you were to attend a ball and in that case, you would wear a ball gown. The well-born Regency elite found themselves changing 3, 4 or even 5 times a day!

And it wasn’t just the women. Men, too, changed frequently, depending on their activities and their clothing was probably more restrictive than their female counterparts. They wore skin tight pants, starched collars turned upwards, the points often touching their cheeks and cravats that were so intricately and tightly tied that the looked like a fancy neck brace and giving them about as much mobility as one. And the jackets! They were so form fitting that they could not put them on without the assistance a valet!

The gowns of the Regency were much less restrictive than the previous few decades. However, with four layers of underclothes, most of which were fastened by hooks and eyes in the back, and stays (a variation of a corset, but used as a sort of push-up bra), the sheer difficulty of getting in and out of these clothes made getting dressed a challenge. Enter the lady’s maid. It was nearly impossible, unless clothes were specifically altered, to get dressed on your own. Oh, it sounds nice to have a lady’s maid to pamper you, but day in day out with little to no privacy. I think it might drive me crazier than I already am.

Parties and balls:

Imagine it! You are dressed to the nines, you can hardly breathe because the whalebone of your stays is cutting into your rib cage, your hair is stiff with curls and ribbons and you are freezing standing in the huge ballroom in your flimsy dress with short puff sleeves and a daring low neckline. But that is nothing to you. You behold an elegant room, of huge proportions filled with hot house flowers and lit by scores of candles gracing the three elegant crystal chandeliers in the room. The ballroom is filled to the brim with ladies and gentleman, all in their finery (thanks to their maids and valets). You enter shyly, hopeful that your dance card will be full, that some handsome man will take a fancy to you and ultimately want to marry you. As the evening progresses, to your delight, your card is indeed full and you dance and make polite conversation and drink lemonade, because despite your thin dress, the dancing has made you quite warm. Finally, long after midnight, the ball is over and you go home to dream of all that has occurred this magical night.  You fall asleep wondering which of your dance partner will be your future husband. You wake the next morning, have a few visitors, go out for a carriage ride in the afternoon and then – do it all again. Rinse and repeat. Ad infinitum. And all with the same people; nearly identical conversations and in similar ballrooms. I don’t know about you, but to me it sounds like way too much of a good thing! I love a party, but a party every night with the same crowd would get tedious.

Did I just burst your romantic bubble?  Never fear! Just do what I do; ignore the reality of it all and enjoy the romance. If I’m honest with myself and with you, I confess I would not be the lovely debutante who meets the dashing lord, but one of the crotchety matrons, confined to sit and gossip on the sidelines of the ball, while watching the youngsters cut up the dance floor. But, in fiction…well, in between the pages of a book, I can imagine that I am the heroine and dance the night away in my primrose shot silk ball gown that is just a trifle too low in the bodice and shimmers in the flickering light of a thousand candles. So, here’s to romance with a touch of reality for authenticity sake.

What about you? What would bother you if you were suddenly transported back in time to Regency England?

Thanks to all the entrants in my blog naming contest. There were lots of great ones to choose from, but this one resonated with me the most. I added my own little subtitle for the search engines to find me better.  So check in soon for my first post on Tipping Back the Hourglass: Historical Musings”. 

What’s in a name? A lot; especially for a blog. So I’m asking you to help me name my REVAMPED blog.

In an earlier post, I spoke of Blog Laryngitis (I couldn’t find my blogging voice). I am happy to tell you that I have found my voice. I will be blogging about all things historical…not dry, dusty facts, but interesting tidbits about the periods of history surrounding my books.

As you may be aware, I’ve only published one book, Her Grace in Disgrace. It’s a Regency romance, meaning it takes place in early 19th century England. So, to begin with my posts will be about that indulgent era of British history. But, I have other books in mind (after I finish the series I am currently working on) that will encompass other eras and countries. But, for now, it’s all about Regency England.

Here’s where you come in. I need a name. I’ve thrown a couple of ideas around: “Particulars and Peculiarities of the Preceding Eras” and “Tidbits from the Past”. I’m just not sold on anything I’ve come up with so far. I could use your help.

The blog will be informative, but chatty and will likely include some humor along with factual information. Let your imagination soar!

What’s in it for you? If I choose your blog name, you will receive:

 ***** A copy of my book, Her Grace in Disgrace (eBook or paperback)

AND 

***** a $10 DOLLAR AMAZON GIFT CARD

So, what are you waiting for. Get those creative juices flowing and send along as many ideas as you like.

I look forward to hearing from you!

A September Saga

I’ll start and you add on. The only rules are to try to follow the story so it makes some sense. No naughty words, please. Otherwise, have fun and we’ll see what happens. Check out the August Tale from…you guessed it…August!

HERE WE GO:

The waning Autumn sun shone on the dewy leaves strewn about the park, causing them to sparkle, though they were dead. The park was deserted, but signs of life remained. Three roses lay on the empty bench as if waiting for someone…waiting for a clandestine lover.

“I hope he arrives soon,” the red rose sighed. “It looks a bit like rain.”

“Whatever are you on about?” snapped the pink rose. “We’re waiting for a she, not a he.”

“Ssshhh! someone’s coming,” whispered the white rose, as a young woman came into view. They all watched as she came nearer, hoping that she was the one. Although the red rose was disappointed by her gender.

Rebecca stopped by the bench and smiled. ‘One red, one pink and one white’ she thought, ‘He kept his word, now…..what am I going to do?’

Let’s play a little game, shall we?

August is vacation month. It’s time for squeezing in the last vestiges of summer before the chaos of the Fall begins. And of course, vacations often mean long car rides. And long car rides mean car games such as “I Spy”, “Who Can Find the Most License Plates” and the like. Now, I know nowadays everyone has their portable media of choice to occupy the ride, but I’d like to hearken back to simpler, less technically advanced times. Times where the kids whined about being bored and one heard the oft repeated phrase: “Are we there yet?” And so we would play a game. My favorite game was the Progressive Story game. You know the one.  One person would start the story and each person would take a turn and add a sentence or two to enhance (or distort in many cases) the tale.

So, to honor the last hoorah of summer I’ve decided to recreate this classic game. Okay? I’ll start using the picture above for inspiration and you go next. Simply write a sentence or two in the comment section and I’ll  add it to the post. Let’s see what kind of story we come up with. There are a few rules. Keep it clean, don’t go off the deep end and try to maintain the essence the story so it makes sense. What do you say? C’mon give it a try. It’ll be fun!

An August Tale

She awoke to a throbbing head and a sense that she was not at home in her bed. In fact, she knew she wasn’t in her bed, because she was lying on a hard surface.

 “Not again! I am so over getting into these snafu’s with Claudia”, said Ann as she massaged her temples.

YOUR TURN!

I have Blog Laryngitis. What, you ask is that? Why, thank you for asking. Let me explain.

Two months ago, I became a writer. I published my first novel, a Regency romance. After decades of dreaming about being an author, I actually became one. Amazing.

But, then I discovered that writing the book was the easy part. What came after was promoting the book. The word marketing has too many letters. To me, it’s a four letter word. It is very time consuming and overwhelming. So, I joined forums and groups and chatted and twittered about the twists and turns of book promotion to other authors. And I learned some things. One thing I learned, was that writers need to have a blog. I was hesitant, even resistant, but finally I started a blog. This blog.

And then I discovered something else. As an author, I have a voice; a way of expressing myself in writing that is unique to me, but as a blogger…not so much. I have no voice. I have things to say. I know I do, but as I contemplate the vast number of blogs out there and the overload of information in cyberspace, I am mute. I have blogger laryngitis.

I need your help. What should I blog about? Can you help me? I am interested in a lot of things, however, what would you like to hear about. What kind of information, tidbits of trivia or random thoughts are YOU interesting in reading?

Here are some ideas:

1. Regency History

2. Regency trivia

3. Books I have read

4. My writing/publishing journey

5 ____________________ Fill in the blank

You may read this and think: I don’t really care or that’s all we need is another blog floating out there on the cloud! You can express that opinion as well. I have wrestled with this by myself for a while, but me, being me, thought I’d throw it out there to the wonderful readers and authors and anyone else who cares to weigh in.

So, does anyone have a cure for me? A literary elixir to cure my Blog Laryngitis? I’d appreciate your advice to help me find my voice!

This will be a short post to follow up on the last one: Rethinking My Book Cover. Thanks for all your input and thoughts. I have decided to…(drum roll please) stick with the original cover for “Her Grace in Disgrace”. I was sorely tempted to switch to #3 since that received a resounding number of votes, but it tied with #1 and so, as they say: “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

Have you ever second guessed yourself? Well, I have been third, fourth and fifth guessing myself ever since my foray into book publishing. My latest doubt fest is about my book cover for Her Grace in Disgrace. A fabulous feature of self-publishing on Amazon is that you can change your book as often as you like. Granted for the self-doubters and insecure it could become an obsession. I’m not there yet! But it did prompt me to scurry back to Photoshop and try a few more configurations of the cover. So I thought I would ask you to vote for your favorite of these:

NUMBER ONE: This is the current one, but just enlarged the words.

NUMBER TWO: Minimalistic, clean lines

NUMBER THREE: Different font on title, Old London background, a touch of lace

I’d very much appreciate your thoughts and feedback and thanks for joining in on the doubt fest! Please leave your choices in the comment box.

Our Shih Tzu, Camden in the stocks at Williamsburg, VA

I have a Shih Tzu named Camden (named for the town in Maine, not New Jersey). He is a small guy, all fluffy and cute, but this little dog has a lot of pride. Because he loves people, he assumes that everyone he meets will want to make a big deal over him. When they do not he is dejected. When they do, he struts off with the aplomb of Napoleon. He is majestic, though miniature.

Now, he also loves other dogs and displays great enthusiasm when he meets one. His whole body wags in excitement…except when he happens upon a Labrador. As soon as he gets a whiff of one of these Retrievers, his fur bristles, his tail droops and he starts to growl.  I don’t understand this at all, because Labradors are fabulous dogs, friendly and gentle. Try to explain that to little Napoleon Shih Tzu. The thing is, my dog is prejudiced!

I used to cringe when I would see a Labrador bounding along with an unsuspecting owner. When said owner sees my fluffy little dog, he or she smiles thinking, “Oh, isn’t he cute. Let’s go meet him” and I’m thinking, “Run, run away as fast as you can.” But I am not one to give in to fear and so the last time we happened upon a sociable Black Lab, I decided to try and work with Cammie, as we call him. At first it was all bristling and growling, but as I began to pet the other dog and reassure the owner, Cammie began to calm down and lo and behold, his tail began to wag. His whole body did not wag as it does with other dogs and humans, but it was a start.

I think it might be a lesson for us humans. We all are cursed and blessed with pride. And we have prejudices, each and every one of us, that are too numerous to name. Sometimes it’s just a prejudice against people who are prejudiced. What would happen if we took ourselves in hand and just did a little sniffing first and found that the other beast we fear/dislike so much is more like us than we thought. Our whole bodies might not wag, but what a change we could make in the world with just a little wag of our tails.