HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, TEXAS!

Because I live in Texas and am a Texan, I’m compelled to mention that this past week, March 2nd, was the 175th anniversary of Texas’ Declaration of Independence from Mexico. The Declaration was framed and issued at Washington-on-the-Brazos. At that time, the town was known only as Washington and was a mile southwest of the junction of the Brazos River and Navasota River, seventy miles northwest of Houston. Washington was an important commercial city. Not until after the Civil War did the town become hyphenated to Washington-on-the-Brazos.

The Alamo at night;
do you believe
in ghosts?

Most of my ancestors hadn’t arrived here by then, but I still find pride in being Texan. (Bailey Hardeman, one of the committee who wrote the Declaration, was a way distant relative at 3rd cousin 4 times removed.) I’m certainly glad none of my direct family line fought at the Alamo, even though I respect those men who did, or I might not be here now. Most of my family arrived forty years later when GTT or “Gone To Texas” was a familiar slogan for those hoping for a fresh start.

Sam Houston
Texas'
First President

Many people don’t realize that Texas was once a country, the Republic of Texas. We had our own President, diplomats, embassies, and currency. In fact, seeing the bronze plaque marking the Texas Embassy site in London was a genuine pleasure. (Well, of course it was! I was on a trip to England with my husband. How could it not be fun?) My husband and I even ate at a Tex-Mex restaurant nearby. Fun, even though it was nothing like Tex-Mex back home.

Texas' Lone Star flag

When Texas joined the United States, it was by treaty stating that our flag could be flown side-by-side with that of the United States. Sadly, the first Texas state capitol burned. Our current capitol building in Austin is 7 feet taller than the capitol in Washington D.C. Yes, we just had to build it taller than the one in D.C.!

Whether you live in Texas or not, please help us celebrate our state’s anniversary this year!

Animals Can Be Anachronisms, Too!

Hello, I'm Caroline Clemmons. Recently, my eldest daughter, Stephanie, and I were discussing errors in historical novels. She had helped a friend determine the dog breed appropriate for our friend's 18th-century-set romance novel. Dogs led to horses, and the mistakes people make. I cajoled my daughter into writing this blog on using appropriate breeds of animals even when writing fiction. Here is Stephanie's post:

My neighbor leases the grazing on my land. He has a couple of horses, including a mare. I looked out of the study window and saw two extra horses, one of whom was being overly “friendly” to the mare. The horses had escaped from another neighbor’s pasture.


This incident reminded me of the books that have the macho hero riding a stallion only he can ride. No one else can touch the horse, but he rides quietly among a group of other horses, including mares. I have news for you. No one who knows anything about horses would ride a stallion near another group of horses. Stallions are dangerous and unpredictable and will mount a mare in season regardless of who is on the mare’s back or riding the stallion. They will fight with and even kill other males.

Just as it is important to have the right clothing and furnishings in your book, it is important to have the animals in your book behave correctly. To do otherwise damages your credibility and the willing suspension of disbelief that engages your readers. Authors should not have a horse do something horses just do not do any more than you would have a regency character dress in an Elizabethan manner.

In the same vein, you should make sure that a dog or cat is of the correct breed for the time and place you are writing about. A Scottish Highlander during the 1600s would not have a Labrador retriever. The breed did not yet exist. The Highlander would probably have a Scottish Elkhound instead, or something similar.

While highborn ladies had lap dogs in Regency Europe, they did not have Chihuahuas. They had dogs like the Bichon Frise, a French dog who was bred to be a lady’s companion. Cavalier King Charles Spaniels, or their ancestors, appear in many paintings during the reign of King Charles I and II because both kings had them.

I am not a cat person so I cannot give you cat examples. However, the Cat Fanciers Association or The International Cat Association will answer questions about what breed would be in what place when. The American Kennel Club will answer such questions for dogs. For horses, you will have to query the individual breed registries to find out when the breed came into existence and whether it would be in the time and place you are writing about.

You may feel this is a lot of trouble for something most people will not pick up on. People who read historical romances know their time period. The wrath of fans against authors who make mistakes is legendary. Take care to place the appropriate animal in your books or reader’s wrath may be directed at you.

Bio: Stephanie Suesan Smith, Ph.D. is a dog person, has had horses, and does not own cats. She is also a nonfiction writer, photographer, master gardener, and, on occasion, the research department for her

Hollywood's View of History

For the most part, writers of historical romance strive for accuracy in capturing historical events and characters. Can the same be said of Hollywood?

I’d suspect that ninety-nine percent of book editors would run screaming from a plot that featured a beautiful, tempting Pocahontas and a very studly Captain John Smith…after all, history tells us that Pocahontas was about seven when Smith and his crew landed in Jamestown in 1607. The New World, starring Colin Farrell as Captain John Smith (who obviously was not cast due to a striking resemblance to the legendary colonist) highlighted the romantic attraction between Smith and a teenaged Pocahontas, portrayed by a striking young actress, Q’orianka Kilcher.

Before its release, the studio was said to have deleted several love scenes deemed too steamy between the nearly thirty-year old actor and the fourteen year-old actress. Besides the “ick” factor here, this romance is completely inaccurate. Many other scenes in the movie are historically wrong as well, but the romance is the most glaring example of Hollywood mauling the truth in this film.

Disney’s Pocahontas isn’t quite as bad, but as a teacher who works with children who have to learn the facts about the Jamestown expedition and its key players, it’s difficult to overcome the portrayals of Pocahontas as someone who looks like Barbie’s Native American cousin and Captain John Smith as Jamestown Expedition Ken. At least, that’s a fantasy, complete with the requisite Disney talking animals, and that offers a teaching point about fiction versus non-fiction.

Hollywood has always taken liberties with the truth...huge liberties, in some cases. Henry VIII is portrayed as a studly hunk in many films, not a gout-ridden, portly monarch. Of course, some would say that Henry was not always fat and was known to be rather athletic in his youth, but how on Earth did anyone decide to cast gorgeous, dark Eric Bana as the monarch in The Other Boleyn Girl ? The portrait of Henry VIII in his twenties shows a man who certainly would not have made a girl lose her head (yes, I know…such a bad pun) if he were not a monarch.

Of course, The Tudors casting of Jonathan Rhys Meyers isn’t any more visually accurate, although I think he captures the moods and manipulations of Henry far more convincingly than hulky Eric Bana (yes, another bad pun), who came across to me as a rather dull-witted monarch.

I could go on and on about Hollywood’s historical inaccuracies. Bonnie and Clyde portrayed the notorious bank robbers as lovers on the run, not the cold-blooded killers they were. Braveheart depicts a kilt-clad Mel Gibson even though kilts weren’t worn in Scotland until about three hundred years after William Wallace died. More remarkably, the film depicts Wallace as the father of Edward III, who was born seven years after Wallace’s death (and I thought nine months was a long time to be pregnant). Mel was at it again with The Patriot, in which he almost single-handedly wins a battle that history recorded as a win for the British…a minor detail, I suppose, in the minds of Hollywood. Gladiator’s villain, Emperor Commodus, was certainly not a nice guy, but it’s believed his father died of disease, not at Commodus’ hand. Commodus was murdered after ruling for more than a decade…in his bathtub, not fighting in a gladiator’s ring. I suppose a guy dying in his bathtub would not have created the heroic ending the folks behind Gladiator were looking for, and as I adore Russell Crowe, I’ll forgive this particular inaccuracy.

What about movies that got it right, or at least, close to right? Are there any? Tombstone and Wyatt Earp might have played loosely with the truth and selectively omitted some of Earp’s less than favorable qualities, but both films portray the era with a feel for the times. Plus, Tombstone has Michael Biehn as Johnny Ringo...I just love the actor in that character and root for the villain, much to my husband's chagrin. Cinderella Man is more of an essay about the hardships of the Depression than a boxing movie, and Russell Crowe depicts Jim Braddock with a feel for the desperation of a man during those times trying to keep his family afloat. The Untouchables, while depicting Eliot Ness and his men as almost saintly, does capture the flavor of the times while depicting the truth…all the gun power in Chicago couldn't bring Capone down, but crooked income tax returns did.

What do you think of Hollywood’s view of history? Could authors get away with the gross inaccuracies sometimes found in films? I’m curiously awaiting the new film, Public Enemies, which portrays John Dillinger and Melvin Purvis. Of course, the casting of Johnny Depp as Dillinger and Christian Bale as Purvis (an obvious choice, given that Purvis was about 5’ 4” and looked absolutely nothing like the hunky Bale) might influence my mad dash to the theaters this summer.

Mothering Sunday

Today is Mothering Sunday in the UK. Since I arrived ten days ago, I have seen many signs of what a big holiday this is. All the bakeries encourage you to order your Simnel Cake and nearly every popular musician has a CD of songs with special meaning for your mum. All the shops carry cards and the supermarket is stuffed with all kinds of flowers. People are planning to leave home early in the morning to get to mums in time for Sunday dinner.

The earliest records of a celebration of mothers date back to the ancient annual festivals honoring the maternal goddesses. Rhea, Hera, and Demeter, were favorites of the early Greeks and  the Romans celebrated Cybele during the Hilaria, a three day festival that eventually got so wild that followers of Cybele were banished from Rome.

More Recently Mothering Day in England officially dates back to the 1600's, though many believe it is taken from the celebrations that the early Christians held in honor of the Virgin Mary. It is celebrated on the fourth Sunday of lent and the restrictions usually enforced during lent are relaxed for this day.

 

Mothers have been important in English history and literature for ages. They have been quite quirky, like mums in Jane Austen, powerful and politically astute like Eleanor of Aquitaine who bore and counseled three kings, and great warriors like Boudicca (pictured right), who started a war with Rome when her daughters were besmirched. And I've read more than one regency romance where the hero is driven by his mother, either to escape her dominance or out of respect and love for her. Regardless if he is the tortured dark loner, the honorable gentleman, or the alpha male who leaps to the rescue, mothers have made their sons into the heroes we love to read about. 

My mother passed on nearly five years ago at the age of eighty. She didn't look a day over sixty (Great genes. I hope I get them:) ). She was an imposing woman. A force to be reckoned with. No one believes she was only five foot three, because her personality was so strong. 

She was a leader in her community. She sat on the city council of our town for many years. She was a founder and president of her sorority's  alumni chapter. She taught sixth grade for fifteen years then counseled middle school students for the same length of time. 

When I was growing up, we fought many times. She was a person who wanted it done her way, or else. And I, especially as a teen, didn't want to do it her way. Mind you, I didn't give my parents many headaches. But my mother taught me to be an independent thinker, even though she didn't much like it when my thoughts were independent of what she thought(lol). But later in adulthood we did come to a level of mutual respect and understanding. By watching her, I learned to go for what I wanted and to not stop until I got it. And so today I am an author who is almost published.

 Widow's Peak my first novel will be released on September 23rd, from The Wild Rose Press. It too is about a medieval mother, Lady Amye Barnard, who finds that after a long widowhood, life still has a few surprises for her. Here's a short excerpt:

Amye noticed the shift in breathing as her charge fell into slumber. She closed her book and quietly withdrew. Once outside she took a deep breath and leaned against the door. Had he called her beautiful? No. Be not foolish. He spoke of the reading.

Pushing aside thoughts of the handsome troubadour, Amye went to check on her household. In the list, Siward had just finished training the garrison. Their bodies, wet from the work of sword play, reminded her of wiping the sweat from Laine’s fevered brow. When she checked with Genevieve, in the kitchen, supper was nearly prepared. She wondered if the soup had been to his liking. A chill wind blew through the courtyard as she passed, and she ordered the braziers filled so he would be warm that night. Try as she might, thoughts of him intruded on her. Where did these feelings come from? I must stop this nonsense this instant.

For more, visit my website at www.hannarhys.com 

Through much of my life, my mantra was "I will never be like my mother", but each day I see that I am getting to be more and more like her. I notice little mannerisms that she used to do or phrases she used creeping into my everyday actions. And at her funeral, dozens of people came up to me and said what an influence she had been on their lives. I realized then, that's how I want to be remembered. As a strong person who has been a good influence on those around her. I may not have helped hundreds of people like my mother, but I will do as much as I can for those who ask.

What is the most valuable thing that your mother taught you? 

Leave a comment and I'll enter you in my Mothering Sunday contest to win this beautiful pewter and mother of pearl pendant on a silver chain from my trip to the UK!

Medieval Love

About twelve years ago, I fell in love with the Middle Ages. I'd always found the concepts of chivalry and courtly love pretty cool, but I didn't have any real way to express the fascination. Then I discovered the SCA (Society for Creative Anachronism). The SCA is a group that re-enacts and educates about the time period of 600 - 1600 CE. Once I discovered this group it was only a matter of time before it found it's way into my writing.

Now, all these years later, my writing and my passion for the Middle Ages have come together to create the book I just recently contracted to Ellora's Cave called Seeking Truth. Here is the blurb.

Seeking Truth

Pain. Baron Eaduin Kempe has experienced enough of it to last him a lifetime, yet again it stalks him. Judith, his beloved foster mother, suffers in agony which cuts like a blade to his own gut. He'll do anything to ease her pain, even if that means that he, a man of dominant, fierce passions, must marry an innocent, convent-raised healer to obtain her services.

Witch. Lady Vérité de Sauigni fears this accusation more than any other, because of her psychic gift to see truth. A convent should be a haven for service to God, but her father made it her prison. Vérité will do anything to escape, even marry a sensual, handsome man who only wants her for her healing skills.

Vérité's healing skills, though prized in her new home, can't save her from charges of witchcraft when King Stephen and His Court arrive at Kempe Castle. Will Eaduin honor the vow she extracted from him to kill her so she won't suffer under questioning? Or will he do more? Will he risk his life for love?


In my daily life I work as a reference librarian and when you add that to my SCA experience research is probably a given, but I have to admit I had a great time completing the research for my book. Since I write for Ellora's Cave, I knew the book would be an erotic romance. I took a lot of time researching Medieval sexuality, Canon Law regarding marital relations, and the rights of women in marriage.

But I also set this book in a time period I knew little about, the troubled reign of King Stephen, the grandson of William the Conqueror, who reigned from 1135-1154. My book is set in 1146 which is after some of the worst of the civil war between Stephen and Empress Matilda, or Maud (as she was often known) who was the daughter of Henry I, had passed.

I discovered this time period by watching the Brother Cadfael mysteries featuring Derek Jacoby. As I watched The Rose Rent, I was struck by how well they'd researched the clothing. I'm a sucker for a properly researched historical drama - especially good clothes. As I watched more episodes, I decided to find out more about the time period. I requested books through interlibrary loan and purchased books for my personal collection.

This turbulent time in English history was the perfect world for my hero Eaduin, so I found him a heroine who would suit him and started to write. I'm happy to say it worked. I fell in love with my hero and liked my heroine. I took a bit of artistic license with the language and activities of my characters, but I think it worked. At least my editor likes it. ;-)

The nice thing for me was that when I ran into snags with my research I had friends in the SCA to whom I could turn for guidance. Some of the SCA fighters really helped me get inside the mind of my hero - a man well used to protecting his people by his command or by his own hand. I thank them for their input because it was something I couldn't have gained anywhere else.

As a tease, I'll include the opener of my book for you to enjoy.


Excerpt:
(© 2009 - Francesca Hawley)

His stallion’s hooves pounded like the beating of his heart as Baron Eaduin Kempe shook damp black hair from his eyes. Though a gentle spring rain fell, it felt like a driving storm. The presence of his beloved foster mother blunted the emptiness of his keep, but if he lost Judith…

Nay. He wouldn’t think on it. All had seemed normal with her, so well did she hide her pain.

Was he blind? How could he have missed something of such import?

Eaduin rode on grimly, determined to find aid. Today.

His horse leaped a ravine, clearing it easily. When he’d asked Judith to whom he should apply for aid, she’d ordered him to the Abbey of Blessed Virgin to seek vérité. He didn’t need to find truth. He needed medication to dull Judith’s pain. Despite her pain, her will was as strong as ever so to the Abbey he rode. Only Judith mattered. He glanced ahead, catching sight of the spires of the Abbey’s central chapel above the treetops.

His half-brother, Godwin who served as his Captain of the Guard, rode at his stallion’s left flank. They approached the gates at a gallop, but pulled up when they remained closed. He and Godwin had been five miles on the road, and would need to return before evening, for Eaduin wouldn’t leave Judith alone for longer. Where was the damned guard? Their horses sidled restlessly as the men exchanged glances. Godwin hailed the guard who should be atop the gates.

“Baron Eaduin Kempe wishes to speak with the Reverend Mother on a matter of grave urgency.”

Eaduin smiled faintly. It was his thundering voice which made Godwin’s squires jump to do his bidding, and it drew the immediate attention of the watch.

“Lord Eaduin bloody Kempe will find no welcome here!”

He grimaced, before looking up to see the old guard peering over the ramparts. “I seek no welcome from you, Artur Pecke, you insolent cur. How dare you swear within these sacred walls! Open the gates. I will speak with the Abbess. Now!” His roar echoed off the stone, making the old man wince then scowl, shaking his fist.

“And what army will see you past this gate?”

Eaduin swore under his breath. He just had to assign his father’s former guard captain here, hadn’t he? The old bastard hated him. Be damned to hell! He pulled his strung bow from his saddle and an arrow from his quiver. He knocked it, taking aim in one smooth movement then sighting on the stupid man’s head.

“I need no army, old man. Let me in and live to see the sunset!”

Eaduin knew the wily old guard could easily duck before the arrow even reached him, but Eaduin was out of patience. He heard Judith’s cries in his ears and had no time to parlay with a self-important idiot.

“Open the gate, you fool!” a voice inside the gates yelled.

Eaduin relaxed his drawn bow, his breath releasing with a hiss. He recognized the authority of Mother Anne’s voice when he heard it and so did Sir Artur. The clack of the windlass rattled loudly as the bridge lowered and the heavy doors opened ponderously. How ironic it was that his orders and his money barred his passage, for long had he given money to afford protection to these brides of Christ. Eaduin spurred his horse, traversing the bridge and coming to a stop in the courtyard—Godwin at his side. They dismounted, handing the stableman the reins.

“Treat them kindly. They’ve been run hard and will need to make a return trip shortly.” The chief stableman offered a respectful nod before leading the horses away. Eaduin turned to meet the concerned gaze of Mother Anne.

“Why are you here, Baron Kempe?”

“I need a healer. Where are your sisters who serve?” Eaduin strode toward the hospital, but the Abbess planted herself in his path.

“Why do you seek a healer? What help can we give you Mistress Judith cannot? After all, she has been the teacher to most of our sisters in the use of herbs and healing.”

Eaduin’s rubbed his face, trying to hide the anguish he felt but Mother Anne saw it and placed a comforting hand on his arm.

“Lord Eaduin? What is it?”

“It’s Judith. She’s very ill but none of us has the skills to help her.”

“Is it fever?” She tensed, her brows knotting in worry.

He shook his head. “Nay, she’s hidden her illness from all of us. A bit more than a fortnight ago, she collapsed. We have tried to follow her directions to offer her relief, but none of us know what we are doing. We are as likely to kill her as cure her the way we blunder about, but it might almost be a mercy.”

“Did she say what the illness is?”

“Nay. She looks far gone with child, yet there is none. After treating herself for months with syrup of poppies, the medicine eases the pain no longer.”

He could see the Abbess’ confusion with his poor description. His ignorance at his lack of expertise appalled him. He shook his head, his eyes filling with tears. He blinked before they spilled, lest Sir Artur taunt him.

“You are sure she’s not with child?”

“Certain. God forgive me but I hadn’t noticed how she had loosened her gowns and ceased to wear belts at her waist.” He shook his head in self-disgust. “God forgive my selfishness…” he muttered as he met Mother Anne’s serene blue gaze in chagrin. He took a deep breath, speaking forcefully. “She needs aid, Mother. Judith is in grave pain which nothing relieves. I can’t… I can’t bear listening to her pain-filled screams. It tears out my heart.”

Tears began to fall. He brushed them away with annoyance. The old guard captain studied him and Eaduin expected to see laughter at his show of weakness. Instead he saw shared pain. Mistress Judith was beloved of everyone, it seemed.

His need for his foster mother felt purely selfish to him. After all, Judith had given life to Godwin and his brothers and sisters. Surely their grief should supersede his, yet she was Eaduin’s salvation. He owed his sanity and conscience to her, for without her he would be a monster like his deceased father and half-sister had been. Both now suffered in the fires of hell. If not for Judith… God above...Judith… He must help her. Eaduin would not leave without aid—no matter what he had to do to receive it.

“When did you last sleep, my Lord?”

He paused in thought, trying to remember, then shook his head. “It matters not. Will you send someone to her? Please?”

Eaduin could see apology in the Reverend Mother’s face as she readied a refusal. Before she could reject his request, he dropped to his knees on the hard ground in front of her in the supplication of a penitent.

“I beg you, Mother, for Judith’s sake. Let me rot when the time comes, but for the love of God, don’t allow Judith’s suffering to continue. She doesn’t deserve it. Isn’t the pain she endured at my father’s hands enough?”

Eaduin beseeched the normally stern Abbess, whose bright blue eyes filled with tears which spilled down her cheeks. Mother Anne knew the truth of Judith’s suffering at Osweald Kempe’s hands. She took a deep breath.

“Judith ordered you here?” Eaduin nodded as the Reverend Mother considered, her hands settling on his shoulders as she looked down at him. “What did she tell you, my Lord? Exactly…”

“She told me to come to the Abbey of the Blessed Virgin to seek vérité,” he snorted. “Truth? Mother, I have no need of truth. I need a healer. Yet she was adamant. ‘Seek vérité,’ she said.”

“In this case, they are one and the same.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I know. But you will, my son. Rise. Let us go find the healer you seek.”

Welcome to our Blog

Welcome to the Hearts Through History Romance Writers of America Chapter 189 blog. We call our selves HHRW for short, much easier than writing the above. HHRW is a special interest group of RWA which specializes in the discussion of different aspects of the historical romance, how they may fit into the genre and how, we as writers, can further perfect and promote our work.

We are a tight-knit community of writers, both published and non-published, and we welcome new members of like mind and like passion to join us on our blog and our chapter. Visit our website by clicking here.

Members of HHRW must be members of Romance Writers of America as well.

Learn more about the chapter on the Hearts Through History Myspace site.

Sign up for the new Seduced By History newsletter that announces the latest releases by Hearts Through History members!

We'll have blogs by our published authors who will talk about their books, discuss historical research, share recipes and daily antics. We will also feature a writer once a month and have guest bloggers from time to time.

Please stop by often and leave comments. We're sure to have prizes to give away!

Melinda Porter
HHRW President