Kelly Bowen's Blog
May 16, 2019
Smugglers, POWs, and the Napoleonic Wars
Some of the best inspiration for stories comes from history books. So as an author, but also as a history lover, I wanted to include a short note about the real-life history that inspired A Rogue by Night.
It is often unusual to come across more than a passing mention of the Napoleonic Wars in British Regency-set novels. Yet there are extraordinary documented accounts of courage, hardship, and bravery that can’t be overlooked. My hero, Harland Hayward, is a veteran of this conflict. But so is my heroine, Katherine Wright. An estimated four-thousand women accompanied the British Army, working and sometimes fighting alongside husbands and lovers, brothers and fathers.
The wars that engulfed almost the entire European continent for nearly two decades cost 2.5 million – 3.5 million soldiers their lives. And even though the battles were not fought on British soil, they still had a huge impact on the lives of those British citizens left behind. Massive taxes to fund the war effort were levied. At the same time, food prices and unemployment skyrocketed due to wartime trading restrictions and increased industrialization. Many desperate men— and women— faced with starvation enlisted in the military. But at the war’s end, circumstances did not get better.
For those soldiers who did survive to return to Britain, there were no war memorials or recognition. Many were weakened, crippled, or severely maimed. They, like the widows and families of fallen soldiers, were left to fend for themselves as best as they could, reduced, in many cases to stealing or begging. Or, in Kent, where the Devils of Dover series is set, smuggling.
Over the centuries, the smuggling trade had flourished along the Kent coastline with its proximity and easy access to the continent. The practice was not without its risks, yet after the wars, the illicit trade became even more dangerous with the reassignment of the Crown’s soldiers from the battlefields of Europe to the coastlines of England. Their directive was to bring order to the lawless coasts and end all smuggling for good.
For it wasn’t just material goods that were smuggled in and out of England and France. In the years following the French Revolution, many French nobles, their families, and sometimes their hoards of art and wealth, were smuggled into England. At the same time, and in the years leading up to and after the decisive battle at Waterloo, many French prisoners of war were smuggled out of England and back to France. Often, these French prisoners were held in deplorable conditions on the Thames prison hulks.
If there was a silver lining in the aftermath of the Napoleonic wars, the resulting political, economic, and social unrest helped ignite the beginnings of reform. The conflict was huge in scope and their direct and indirect effects were profound. Writing about some of these effects – real facts woven into my own fiction – seems not only justified but essential. The men and women who faced impossible odds and prevailed offer an author no end of inspiration.
If you’d like to read further about the history mentioned above, here’s a list of books I’d recommend:
Smuggling in Kent and Sussex 1700-1840 by Mary Waugh
Smuggling in the British Isles – A History by Richard Platt
In These Times: Living in Britain Through Napoleon’s Wars, 1793-1815 by Jenny Uglow
The Napoleonic Wars by Richard Holmes
The Intolerable Hulks – British Shipboard Confinement 1776-1857 by Charles Campbell
It is often unusual to come across more than a passing mention of the Napoleonic Wars in British Regency-set novels. Yet there are extraordinary documented accounts of courage, hardship, and bravery that can’t be overlooked. My hero, Harland Hayward, is a veteran of this conflict. But so is my heroine, Katherine Wright. An estimated four-thousand women accompanied the British Army, working and sometimes fighting alongside husbands and lovers, brothers and fathers.
The wars that engulfed almost the entire European continent for nearly two decades cost 2.5 million – 3.5 million soldiers their lives. And even though the battles were not fought on British soil, they still had a huge impact on the lives of those British citizens left behind. Massive taxes to fund the war effort were levied. At the same time, food prices and unemployment skyrocketed due to wartime trading restrictions and increased industrialization. Many desperate men— and women— faced with starvation enlisted in the military. But at the war’s end, circumstances did not get better.
For those soldiers who did survive to return to Britain, there were no war memorials or recognition. Many were weakened, crippled, or severely maimed. They, like the widows and families of fallen soldiers, were left to fend for themselves as best as they could, reduced, in many cases to stealing or begging. Or, in Kent, where the Devils of Dover series is set, smuggling.
Over the centuries, the smuggling trade had flourished along the Kent coastline with its proximity and easy access to the continent. The practice was not without its risks, yet after the wars, the illicit trade became even more dangerous with the reassignment of the Crown’s soldiers from the battlefields of Europe to the coastlines of England. Their directive was to bring order to the lawless coasts and end all smuggling for good.
For it wasn’t just material goods that were smuggled in and out of England and France. In the years following the French Revolution, many French nobles, their families, and sometimes their hoards of art and wealth, were smuggled into England. At the same time, and in the years leading up to and after the decisive battle at Waterloo, many French prisoners of war were smuggled out of England and back to France. Often, these French prisoners were held in deplorable conditions on the Thames prison hulks.
If there was a silver lining in the aftermath of the Napoleonic wars, the resulting political, economic, and social unrest helped ignite the beginnings of reform. The conflict was huge in scope and their direct and indirect effects were profound. Writing about some of these effects – real facts woven into my own fiction – seems not only justified but essential. The men and women who faced impossible odds and prevailed offer an author no end of inspiration.
If you’d like to read further about the history mentioned above, here’s a list of books I’d recommend:
Smuggling in Kent and Sussex 1700-1840 by Mary Waugh
Smuggling in the British Isles – A History by Richard Platt
In These Times: Living in Britain Through Napoleon’s Wars, 1793-1815 by Jenny Uglow
The Napoleonic Wars by Richard Holmes
The Intolerable Hulks – British Shipboard Confinement 1776-1857 by Charles Campbell
January 4, 2019
Let's talk about sex - us modern folk aren't doing anything new
Recently, I had a fabulous round-table discussion with numerous historical authors where the topic of sex was broached. Many of us have written individual historical heroines who know about sex, talk about sex, and enjoy sex.
And we discovered, without exception, that each one of us had heard a variation of the comment: 'but that doesn't seem historically accurate - women simply didn't do that in the past.'
At which point in the conversation we all rubbed our hands in glee and started pulling out our research to compare (because historical authors are history nerds first and foremost). And for anyone who may be interested in our sources, I'm going to expound on some of our favorites here.
1)The School of Venus
A very graphic, explanatory text of dialogue between two women. The more sexually experienced explains in great detail sexual intercourse and gives instruction on the best ways to achieve, and receive, sexual satisfaction. Published in the 1600's, it was sold on bookseller's shelves and reportedly made Samuel Pepys blush. There are graphic images that are published with the text and I give you fair warning that they are not for the faint of heart. Those aren't cucumbers the ladies are examining...
2)Pretty Little Games for Young Ladies and Gentlemen
by Thomas Rowlandson (b.1756)
A collection of ten plates each accompanied by a bawdy poem. I'll just take a moment to remind everyone that the expression 'flying f**k' has been around for a great deal longer than most people realize...
3)Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure—AKA The Diary of Fanny Hill. This is an erotic novel by English novelist John Cleland first published in London in 1748. It was one of the most prosecuted and banned books in history and it uses euphemisms that are impressive.
4)The Origins of Sex by by Oxford University historian Faramerz Dabhoiwala
This is a well-written account that documents the idea that contrary to modern mythology, today’s permissive sexual behavior first developed in 17th-century Western Europe and grew from there.
5) Decency and Disorder -The Age of Cant 1789-1837
by Ben Wilson
Historian Ben Wilson details a period when licentious Britain tried to straighten out its moral code - which demonstrates some interesting parallels with our own age.
There are more resources, of course - letters and diaries and accounts (from both the aristocracy and working class) that leave absolutely nothing to the imagination, but the sources above are a great place to start if you're interested in further reading.
So for every sheltered, virginal heroine that you read in your historical tale (and they certainly existed too), just keep in mind that the heroine with experience and/or knowledge is just as believable.
And we discovered, without exception, that each one of us had heard a variation of the comment: 'but that doesn't seem historically accurate - women simply didn't do that in the past.'
At which point in the conversation we all rubbed our hands in glee and started pulling out our research to compare (because historical authors are history nerds first and foremost). And for anyone who may be interested in our sources, I'm going to expound on some of our favorites here.
1)The School of Venus
A very graphic, explanatory text of dialogue between two women. The more sexually experienced explains in great detail sexual intercourse and gives instruction on the best ways to achieve, and receive, sexual satisfaction. Published in the 1600's, it was sold on bookseller's shelves and reportedly made Samuel Pepys blush. There are graphic images that are published with the text and I give you fair warning that they are not for the faint of heart. Those aren't cucumbers the ladies are examining...
2)Pretty Little Games for Young Ladies and Gentlemen
by Thomas Rowlandson (b.1756)
A collection of ten plates each accompanied by a bawdy poem. I'll just take a moment to remind everyone that the expression 'flying f**k' has been around for a great deal longer than most people realize...
3)Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure—AKA The Diary of Fanny Hill. This is an erotic novel by English novelist John Cleland first published in London in 1748. It was one of the most prosecuted and banned books in history and it uses euphemisms that are impressive.
4)The Origins of Sex by by Oxford University historian Faramerz Dabhoiwala
This is a well-written account that documents the idea that contrary to modern mythology, today’s permissive sexual behavior first developed in 17th-century Western Europe and grew from there.
5) Decency and Disorder -The Age of Cant 1789-1837
by Ben Wilson
Historian Ben Wilson details a period when licentious Britain tried to straighten out its moral code - which demonstrates some interesting parallels with our own age.
There are more resources, of course - letters and diaries and accounts (from both the aristocracy and working class) that leave absolutely nothing to the imagination, but the sources above are a great place to start if you're interested in further reading.
So for every sheltered, virginal heroine that you read in your historical tale (and they certainly existed too), just keep in mind that the heroine with experience and/or knowledge is just as believable.
May 17, 2018
Modern Historical Heroines
History was written by men. Well, not all of it, but certainly more than their fair share. That is not a complaint, but merely a statement of fact. However, as a result, I think today's society has walked away with the mistaken understanding that heroines of eras past were meek, biddable, fragile creatures.
And perhaps that has been perpetuated in popular fiction to some extent. That it is unreasonable to think that a woman would have the gall or the gumption or the means to defy the societal limits she may have faced. Because of this, historical authors often hear that their heroines are ‘too modern’, ‘not believable’, or ‘unlikely’.
In A Duke In the Night, my heroine Clara Hayward runs a finishing school for young women, placing her charges not in dance class, but in fields traditionally reserved for men. Medicine. Law. Architecture. Politics. Too modern? Not believable? Unlikely?
Not so fast. The fictional Clara Hayward was inspired by the very real life of Harriot Kezia Hunt (1805-1875), who was a physician and a staunch women’s rights activist. Never heard of her? You're not alone. It's often tricky to find stories about the trailblazers like her.
Harriot was 22 when her father died and she and her sister opened a school to support themselves. Long story short, her sister fell ill and when 'conventional' doctors couldn't help, she took it upon herself to study medicine with the help of Dr. Richard Mott and his wife Elizabeth, also an (unrecognized) doctor. In 1835 Harriot opened her own practice without an ‘official’ degree, though she applied to Harvard Medical School— once in 1847 and again in 1849— and was rejected both times. (Fun fact: Harvard Medical School did not admit its first female student until almost a hundred years later in 1945, mainly due to fewer male applicants as a result of World War II.)
Throughout her life, Harriot was a passionate advocate for the education of women, not only in the field of medicine, but also in other professions traditionally limited only to men. She founded the ‘Ladies In Physiology Society’ in 1843 and gave lectures on physiology and hygiene, as well as championing the abolition of slavery and promoting women's rights.
In the course of my research, I ran across other real women just like her. Some who disguised themselves to achieve their dreams, others who did not and fought tooth and nail for their ambitions. They were harder to find in the history books than their male counterparts to be sure, but they are there all the same. We've come a long way since then, and we've come on the backs of these women. They were pioneers who did what no one believed they would.
Believe it now and keep believing.
If you want to read more about Harriot Kezia Hunt, I’d recommend:
‘Glances and Glimpses; or, Fifty Years' Social, Including Twenty Years' Professional Life’ - The Memoirs of Harriot Kezia Hunt (Boston: J.P. Jewett and Company, 1856).
Women Medical Doctors in the United States before the Civil War: A Biographical Dictionary by Edward Atwater (2016).
And perhaps that has been perpetuated in popular fiction to some extent. That it is unreasonable to think that a woman would have the gall or the gumption or the means to defy the societal limits she may have faced. Because of this, historical authors often hear that their heroines are ‘too modern’, ‘not believable’, or ‘unlikely’.
In A Duke In the Night, my heroine Clara Hayward runs a finishing school for young women, placing her charges not in dance class, but in fields traditionally reserved for men. Medicine. Law. Architecture. Politics. Too modern? Not believable? Unlikely?
Not so fast. The fictional Clara Hayward was inspired by the very real life of Harriot Kezia Hunt (1805-1875), who was a physician and a staunch women’s rights activist. Never heard of her? You're not alone. It's often tricky to find stories about the trailblazers like her.
Harriot was 22 when her father died and she and her sister opened a school to support themselves. Long story short, her sister fell ill and when 'conventional' doctors couldn't help, she took it upon herself to study medicine with the help of Dr. Richard Mott and his wife Elizabeth, also an (unrecognized) doctor. In 1835 Harriot opened her own practice without an ‘official’ degree, though she applied to Harvard Medical School— once in 1847 and again in 1849— and was rejected both times. (Fun fact: Harvard Medical School did not admit its first female student until almost a hundred years later in 1945, mainly due to fewer male applicants as a result of World War II.)
Throughout her life, Harriot was a passionate advocate for the education of women, not only in the field of medicine, but also in other professions traditionally limited only to men. She founded the ‘Ladies In Physiology Society’ in 1843 and gave lectures on physiology and hygiene, as well as championing the abolition of slavery and promoting women's rights.
In the course of my research, I ran across other real women just like her. Some who disguised themselves to achieve their dreams, others who did not and fought tooth and nail for their ambitions. They were harder to find in the history books than their male counterparts to be sure, but they are there all the same. We've come a long way since then, and we've come on the backs of these women. They were pioneers who did what no one believed they would.
Believe it now and keep believing.
If you want to read more about Harriot Kezia Hunt, I’d recommend:
‘Glances and Glimpses; or, Fifty Years' Social, Including Twenty Years' Professional Life’ - The Memoirs of Harriot Kezia Hunt (Boston: J.P. Jewett and Company, 1856).
Women Medical Doctors in the United States before the Civil War: A Biographical Dictionary by Edward Atwater (2016).
August 4, 2015
When a Peer Doesn't Pay Up
Recently, I was asked about the characters in the second book of my Lords of Worth series, A Good Rogue Is Hard to Find. Or, more specifically, I was asked about the actions of my characters.
In this novel, my heroine has undertaken the task of trying to recoup monies owed to the common person by peers who refuse to pay. The tailor, for example, who hasn't been paid by an earl for the last four evening coats he's made. Or the furniture maker, who is owed for an entire library set made out of rosewood by a marquess who simply doesn't care if the man ever sees a penny.
In my novel, my heroine has come up with all sorts of devious schemes (most, ironically, that I actually stumbled across in the history books) of stealing back the money owed from the aristocratic men and women who owe it and have no intention of ever settling their debts.
This particular reader was quite dismayed - well, somewhat horrified- by the idea that my heroine should have acted so unethically. I was asked why she (or the tailor) simply didn't take the offending aristocrat to court and sue him for the money owed? Surely there were better options? Surely the peer could just be sent to Debtor's Prison to straighten him out?
All excellent questions, and they have a very long-winded answer buried in my research notebooks that reference statutes and old records and laws that I spent ridiculous amounts of time pouring over during the writing of this novel. Luckily, the amazing and brilliant Courtney Milan has a wonderful post up on her site that answers these questions in a much more concise, understandable manner then I ever could. Instead of rambling on, I've posted her article below for anyone interested in how the law worked in the Regency when it came to debt and peers. Spoiler alert: It really sucked to be a commoner...
Peers & Debtor's Prison - by Courtney Milan (at courtneymilan.com)
Someone on the Beaumonde asked if you could put a peer in debtor's prison. This seemed like a fun question, so I took a crack at it. I started from John Palmer's 1830 treatise entitled "The Practice in the House of Lords, on appeals, writs of error and claims of peerage": "The persons of Peers, and of their Widows (except Widows of Bishops), and the persons of Peeresses in their own right, are protected from Arrest, in all Civil Suits, either in the first instance, or after judgment except on judgments on a Statute Stapel, or Statute Merchant, or on the Statute of Acton Burnel. Nor are they liable to be attached for non-payment of money, though they are not exempt from attachment for not obeying the processes of the Courts."
So that needs to be untangled a little, because it's not a clear cut "you can't arrest a peer." Instead, it says, "you can't arrest a peer except on judgments on a Statute Stapel, or Statute Merchant, or on the Statute of Acton Burnel." The Statute Merchant and the Statute of Acton Burnel are both old, old statutes (stemming from medieval times) that allow seizure of goods, land, and the body of debtors. In other words, it's possible to hold a peer for nonpayment of debt. (Text of those statutes online ; you should read them, because it's a little more complicated than simple nonpayment).
Even that is deceptively simple. Back to John Palmer, who adds this seemingly disconnected gem a little later: "Peers are also exempt from being sued in the Marshalsea or other inferior Courts." So where could you bring suit? You'd have to sue in the King's Bench, or to the King's Justices in Westminster. Some explanation of this process is here.
At this point, I needed to interpolate a bit: The judicial process in the 1800s was generally rough, and in many cases--particularly civil cases, it was enforced by third parties. You wanted to hold someone for nonpayment of debt? Well, you could do it yourself. Rough and ready justice. But you couldn't just go and nab a peer. You had to go to court and get a judgment first. And you couldn't just go to any old court; I'm guessing you had to take your case to Westminster and present it to judges who were quite possibly drinking buddies with the debtor. In other words, good luck with that one.
As a test of my interpolation, I looked for a case where a peer was sued for nonpayment of debt.
I found the case of The Earl of Lonsdale v. Littledale, from 1793. You can read it here but I'll sum up: Lonsdale owed Littledale money. Littledale brought suit in King's Bench. The justices rejected the suit, explaining that you could only bring suit for money owed if you had the defendant in custody--but you couldn't take peers into custody; so sorry, no way to sue. Note the lovely line, indicating that the Court was really, really listening to the pleas of the poor commoner trying to get his money, at the end of the reported decision: "Holroyd, who was going to argue on the other side, was stopped by the Court." Very nice.
This doesn't foreclose all possibility of suit, because you could still get an original writ--basically, a court summons requiring the peer to show up on his own. But I'm guessing that while it was legally possible to detain a peer for nonpayment of debt, it was practically implausible.
In this novel, my heroine has undertaken the task of trying to recoup monies owed to the common person by peers who refuse to pay. The tailor, for example, who hasn't been paid by an earl for the last four evening coats he's made. Or the furniture maker, who is owed for an entire library set made out of rosewood by a marquess who simply doesn't care if the man ever sees a penny.
In my novel, my heroine has come up with all sorts of devious schemes (most, ironically, that I actually stumbled across in the history books) of stealing back the money owed from the aristocratic men and women who owe it and have no intention of ever settling their debts.
This particular reader was quite dismayed - well, somewhat horrified- by the idea that my heroine should have acted so unethically. I was asked why she (or the tailor) simply didn't take the offending aristocrat to court and sue him for the money owed? Surely there were better options? Surely the peer could just be sent to Debtor's Prison to straighten him out?
All excellent questions, and they have a very long-winded answer buried in my research notebooks that reference statutes and old records and laws that I spent ridiculous amounts of time pouring over during the writing of this novel. Luckily, the amazing and brilliant Courtney Milan has a wonderful post up on her site that answers these questions in a much more concise, understandable manner then I ever could. Instead of rambling on, I've posted her article below for anyone interested in how the law worked in the Regency when it came to debt and peers. Spoiler alert: It really sucked to be a commoner...
Peers & Debtor's Prison - by Courtney Milan (at courtneymilan.com)
Someone on the Beaumonde asked if you could put a peer in debtor's prison. This seemed like a fun question, so I took a crack at it. I started from John Palmer's 1830 treatise entitled "The Practice in the House of Lords, on appeals, writs of error and claims of peerage": "The persons of Peers, and of their Widows (except Widows of Bishops), and the persons of Peeresses in their own right, are protected from Arrest, in all Civil Suits, either in the first instance, or after judgment except on judgments on a Statute Stapel, or Statute Merchant, or on the Statute of Acton Burnel. Nor are they liable to be attached for non-payment of money, though they are not exempt from attachment for not obeying the processes of the Courts."
So that needs to be untangled a little, because it's not a clear cut "you can't arrest a peer." Instead, it says, "you can't arrest a peer except on judgments on a Statute Stapel, or Statute Merchant, or on the Statute of Acton Burnel." The Statute Merchant and the Statute of Acton Burnel are both old, old statutes (stemming from medieval times) that allow seizure of goods, land, and the body of debtors. In other words, it's possible to hold a peer for nonpayment of debt. (Text of those statutes online ; you should read them, because it's a little more complicated than simple nonpayment).
Even that is deceptively simple. Back to John Palmer, who adds this seemingly disconnected gem a little later: "Peers are also exempt from being sued in the Marshalsea or other inferior Courts." So where could you bring suit? You'd have to sue in the King's Bench, or to the King's Justices in Westminster. Some explanation of this process is here.
At this point, I needed to interpolate a bit: The judicial process in the 1800s was generally rough, and in many cases--particularly civil cases, it was enforced by third parties. You wanted to hold someone for nonpayment of debt? Well, you could do it yourself. Rough and ready justice. But you couldn't just go and nab a peer. You had to go to court and get a judgment first. And you couldn't just go to any old court; I'm guessing you had to take your case to Westminster and present it to judges who were quite possibly drinking buddies with the debtor. In other words, good luck with that one.
As a test of my interpolation, I looked for a case where a peer was sued for nonpayment of debt.
I found the case of The Earl of Lonsdale v. Littledale, from 1793. You can read it here but I'll sum up: Lonsdale owed Littledale money. Littledale brought suit in King's Bench. The justices rejected the suit, explaining that you could only bring suit for money owed if you had the defendant in custody--but you couldn't take peers into custody; so sorry, no way to sue. Note the lovely line, indicating that the Court was really, really listening to the pleas of the poor commoner trying to get his money, at the end of the reported decision: "Holroyd, who was going to argue on the other side, was stopped by the Court." Very nice.
This doesn't foreclose all possibility of suit, because you could still get an original writ--basically, a court summons requiring the peer to show up on his own. But I'm guessing that while it was legally possible to detain a peer for nonpayment of debt, it was practically implausible.
March 2, 2015
Writing in the Pickle Aisle
Someone asked me the other day if, as an author, I was a plotter or a pantser.
I had never heard the term ‘pantser’ before, and I’m quite certain that the blank look I gave her made my ignorance quite obvious. Taking pity on me, this person went on to explain that a pantser was someone who wrote by the seat of her pants, with little attention to structured plotting. So, she asked again, which was I?
I had to stop and think for a moment. Both, I told her finally. Most definitely both.
At the beginning of every story, I have specific scenes rattling around in my head that I want to happen in my book. These are the defining scenes that give my story structure and shape my plot. They’re rarely written in order, but there will be a beginning, an end, and a handful of important scenes in between. This would be the ‘plotter’ part.
What my characters do in between these plot points is the ‘pantser’ part. And quite often, these in-between scenes suddenly crystallize at the oddest moments. See me suddenly drive into a random parking lot and stop in the middle of nowhere? I’m not texting. Or looking at a map. I’m very likely scribbling frantically with the only writing utensil I can find in my car that isn’t frozen (my kid’s crayons work well) on the back of an oil-change receipt from the glove box. See me leaning on the cart in the middle of the pickle aisle at the grocery store scribbling on another piece of paper? I’m probably not writing a shopping list, I’m writing a scene. On a few very rare occasions, I am actually sitting at my desk behind my laptop, and it’s all very civilized…
I’ve included snippets of three of my favorite scenes from I’ve Got My Duke to Keep Me Warm below. I don’t think any of them were actually first written at a desk.
And at least one of them was written in the pickle aisle.
1)When my hero first begins to understand the heroine may not be what she seems:
The ice queen shrugged. “You’ll have to trust me.”
Jamie closed his eyes, fighting for patience. “Will I need to steal something?”
“Unlikely.”
“Kill someone?”
“Hopefully not.”
“Blow something up?”
“You’re familiar with explosives?”
His eyes popped open at the undisguised interest in her last question. What the hell kind of woman used the word explosives the way most used the word marmalade? Or teapot?
2)The moment when genuine honesty begins to establish itself between the hero and the heroine:
“I did that to save a woman who would have been dead within a year had I not!”
“Then I ask why? While it may have been noble, why go to such extremes for a woman you’ve never even met? I have to assume, Gisele, that what you did—what you do—is to atone for something in your past. Something terrible. What did you do in London, Gisele?”
“I got married,” she said savagely, suddenly furious he had forced her into this before she was ready.
3) This conversation took place between the hero and the heroine near the end of the book. They were conducting a perfectly reasonable conversation in perfectly unreasonable circumstances.
“You’ll never be a duchess, you realize.”
Gisele sniffled. “Thank God. Every time I put on an expensive ball gown something seems to explode.”
I had never heard the term ‘pantser’ before, and I’m quite certain that the blank look I gave her made my ignorance quite obvious. Taking pity on me, this person went on to explain that a pantser was someone who wrote by the seat of her pants, with little attention to structured plotting. So, she asked again, which was I?
I had to stop and think for a moment. Both, I told her finally. Most definitely both.
At the beginning of every story, I have specific scenes rattling around in my head that I want to happen in my book. These are the defining scenes that give my story structure and shape my plot. They’re rarely written in order, but there will be a beginning, an end, and a handful of important scenes in between. This would be the ‘plotter’ part.
What my characters do in between these plot points is the ‘pantser’ part. And quite often, these in-between scenes suddenly crystallize at the oddest moments. See me suddenly drive into a random parking lot and stop in the middle of nowhere? I’m not texting. Or looking at a map. I’m very likely scribbling frantically with the only writing utensil I can find in my car that isn’t frozen (my kid’s crayons work well) on the back of an oil-change receipt from the glove box. See me leaning on the cart in the middle of the pickle aisle at the grocery store scribbling on another piece of paper? I’m probably not writing a shopping list, I’m writing a scene. On a few very rare occasions, I am actually sitting at my desk behind my laptop, and it’s all very civilized…
I’ve included snippets of three of my favorite scenes from I’ve Got My Duke to Keep Me Warm below. I don’t think any of them were actually first written at a desk.
And at least one of them was written in the pickle aisle.
1)When my hero first begins to understand the heroine may not be what she seems:
The ice queen shrugged. “You’ll have to trust me.”
Jamie closed his eyes, fighting for patience. “Will I need to steal something?”
“Unlikely.”
“Kill someone?”
“Hopefully not.”
“Blow something up?”
“You’re familiar with explosives?”
His eyes popped open at the undisguised interest in her last question. What the hell kind of woman used the word explosives the way most used the word marmalade? Or teapot?
2)The moment when genuine honesty begins to establish itself between the hero and the heroine:
“I did that to save a woman who would have been dead within a year had I not!”
“Then I ask why? While it may have been noble, why go to such extremes for a woman you’ve never even met? I have to assume, Gisele, that what you did—what you do—is to atone for something in your past. Something terrible. What did you do in London, Gisele?”
“I got married,” she said savagely, suddenly furious he had forced her into this before she was ready.
3) This conversation took place between the hero and the heroine near the end of the book. They were conducting a perfectly reasonable conversation in perfectly unreasonable circumstances.
“You’ll never be a duchess, you realize.”
Gisele sniffled. “Thank God. Every time I put on an expensive ball gown something seems to explode.”
December 19, 2014
Blog Tour for I've Got My Duke to Keep Me Warm
Thank you to everyone who hosted - what a fantastic week! For all the highlights, including excerpts, giveaways, reviews, favorite moments from my debut, and discussions on superpowers and why I don't write cookbooks, check out my website here!
http://www.kellybowen.net/news.html
http://www.kellybowen.net/news.html
December 16, 2014
The Best Advice
Four years ago, I was all over the map. Literally.
I was writing historical adventure; swashbuckling tales that circled Santo Domingo and Huguenot forts on the coast of Florida, battle-ridden stories from the Crusades, and accounts of heroic survival in the wilderness of New France. I loved the wild-west feel to each novel, knowing that the people who lived and loved and struggled and triumphed in these formative years shaped what would one day become great nations.
My novels won contests and writing awards but failed to find purchase in today’s marketplace, and I had earned a stack of rejection letters almost as thick as the manuscripts themselves. I was doing my best not to get too discouraged.
About this time, I was lucky enough to have dinner with Elizabeth Thornton, a very successful romance writer also living in Winnipeg. “Now Kelly,” she said during the course of our conversation, “your books are very intriguing, but have you ever considered writing something set in Scotland or England? Something set in the Regency era? That is a very popular time period.”
I admitted that while I had certainly read many excellent novels (hers included) that were set in this particular period, I had not yet tackled a Regency-set series of my own.
“Well,” she went on to say, “I certainly can’t tell you what to write. But I can tell you what people want to read. And England might be a good place to start.”
I took her words to heart and by the end of the next day I had a stack of research books waiting for me at the library. I started reading and discovered a new piece of history just as fascinating as any other, though for different reasons.
It quickly became easy to see why Regency romances were so popular. From a historical perspective, it is a period rich with intrigue, war, innovation, politics, science, and crime. But more than facts, this period flourished with writers associated with Romanticism and the emotion they brought to their work. Writers like Jane Austen, Sir Walter Scott, William Wordsworth, John Keats, Susan Ferrier, and Maria Edgeworth brought history to life in a manner that captured the imagination of readers then just the same as it does now. It certainly captured mine. And from there, I started writing.
From that single conversation emerged my Regency-set Lords of Worth series. Elizabeth, with her unfailing good Scottish sense gave me the one bit of advice that allowed me to find the beginning of my own path as a published author. She never discouraged me from exploring, only reminded me that ultimately, writers write for readers.
Elizabeth Thornton passed away before I could finish and sell my first novel. I’d like to think she knew how important her kindness was. I have, in the realization of success, received incredible help, support and advice from many others, including a welcoming family of romance writers, a rock-star agent, and a talented team of editors. I am always striving to learn as much as I can from the voices of experience and wisdom along this journey. Good things can happen when you listen carefully to expert advice.
As it turned out, England was a great place to start.
I was writing historical adventure; swashbuckling tales that circled Santo Domingo and Huguenot forts on the coast of Florida, battle-ridden stories from the Crusades, and accounts of heroic survival in the wilderness of New France. I loved the wild-west feel to each novel, knowing that the people who lived and loved and struggled and triumphed in these formative years shaped what would one day become great nations.
My novels won contests and writing awards but failed to find purchase in today’s marketplace, and I had earned a stack of rejection letters almost as thick as the manuscripts themselves. I was doing my best not to get too discouraged.
About this time, I was lucky enough to have dinner with Elizabeth Thornton, a very successful romance writer also living in Winnipeg. “Now Kelly,” she said during the course of our conversation, “your books are very intriguing, but have you ever considered writing something set in Scotland or England? Something set in the Regency era? That is a very popular time period.”
I admitted that while I had certainly read many excellent novels (hers included) that were set in this particular period, I had not yet tackled a Regency-set series of my own.
“Well,” she went on to say, “I certainly can’t tell you what to write. But I can tell you what people want to read. And England might be a good place to start.”
I took her words to heart and by the end of the next day I had a stack of research books waiting for me at the library. I started reading and discovered a new piece of history just as fascinating as any other, though for different reasons.
It quickly became easy to see why Regency romances were so popular. From a historical perspective, it is a period rich with intrigue, war, innovation, politics, science, and crime. But more than facts, this period flourished with writers associated with Romanticism and the emotion they brought to their work. Writers like Jane Austen, Sir Walter Scott, William Wordsworth, John Keats, Susan Ferrier, and Maria Edgeworth brought history to life in a manner that captured the imagination of readers then just the same as it does now. It certainly captured mine. And from there, I started writing.
From that single conversation emerged my Regency-set Lords of Worth series. Elizabeth, with her unfailing good Scottish sense gave me the one bit of advice that allowed me to find the beginning of my own path as a published author. She never discouraged me from exploring, only reminded me that ultimately, writers write for readers.
Elizabeth Thornton passed away before I could finish and sell my first novel. I’d like to think she knew how important her kindness was. I have, in the realization of success, received incredible help, support and advice from many others, including a welcoming family of romance writers, a rock-star agent, and a talented team of editors. I am always striving to learn as much as I can from the voices of experience and wisdom along this journey. Good things can happen when you listen carefully to expert advice.
As it turned out, England was a great place to start.
December 3, 2014
You Never Forget Your First
They say you never forget your first.
Grade nine. Middle of June. In a darkened corner of a school hall. I have no idea what I was wearing, though it might have been bubblegum jeans, or what song was playing in the background, though it was probably Milli Vanilli.
My first historical romance. Handed to me by a girlfriend who tearfully sobbed that it was the most romantic thing she’d ever read. I just had to read it, she sniffed. Now, given that my girlfriend had made an art out of teenage angst and sobbed over a great many things, I was skeptical. She’d bought it at her neighbor’s yard sale, she went on to tell me in a hushed whisper, as though she couldn’t believe she had only paid a quarter for the secret of life.
I examined the novel. It had a bright red cover, a medieval gauntlet clutching a yellow rose, and a blurb proclaiming the story was the ‘epitome of every woman’s fantasy’. It was worn, though it still sported the $2.50 price tag from some long lost bookstore. In the inside cover, someone had scrawled in pencil, This book is Really Good! -Leesa.
I tucked the book into my backpack, fished out a tissue for my friend, and carted it home to read. Who was I to argue with a blubbering friend, every woman’s fantasy, and Leesa?
I still have that book. It sits on my bookshelf amid others I have read over the years and have hoarded because they are worth reading over and over. And as I prepare for the release of my own first novel, I think about the one that captured my imagination and still holds it now.
So thank you, Ms. Deveraux, for writing A Knight in Shining Armor. For writing a beautiful love story. For understanding the heart and all of its desires.
Turns out my girlfriend really did pay a quarter for the secret of life.
Pass me the Kleenex.
Grade nine. Middle of June. In a darkened corner of a school hall. I have no idea what I was wearing, though it might have been bubblegum jeans, or what song was playing in the background, though it was probably Milli Vanilli.
My first historical romance. Handed to me by a girlfriend who tearfully sobbed that it was the most romantic thing she’d ever read. I just had to read it, she sniffed. Now, given that my girlfriend had made an art out of teenage angst and sobbed over a great many things, I was skeptical. She’d bought it at her neighbor’s yard sale, she went on to tell me in a hushed whisper, as though she couldn’t believe she had only paid a quarter for the secret of life.
I examined the novel. It had a bright red cover, a medieval gauntlet clutching a yellow rose, and a blurb proclaiming the story was the ‘epitome of every woman’s fantasy’. It was worn, though it still sported the $2.50 price tag from some long lost bookstore. In the inside cover, someone had scrawled in pencil, This book is Really Good! -Leesa.
I tucked the book into my backpack, fished out a tissue for my friend, and carted it home to read. Who was I to argue with a blubbering friend, every woman’s fantasy, and Leesa?
I still have that book. It sits on my bookshelf amid others I have read over the years and have hoarded because they are worth reading over and over. And as I prepare for the release of my own first novel, I think about the one that captured my imagination and still holds it now.
So thank you, Ms. Deveraux, for writing A Knight in Shining Armor. For writing a beautiful love story. For understanding the heart and all of its desires.
Turns out my girlfriend really did pay a quarter for the secret of life.
Pass me the Kleenex.
