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Monthly Archives: November 2007

Just Rewards

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Although I am not nearly as ambitious as Elena, who is GOING to have written 50,000 words in the month of November (right, Elena?), I am on my own little path to goaldom.

By the end of this weekend, I hope to type “The End,” and really mean it.

In the course of writing this book, I have discovered I can indeed write the kind of tortured dark hero I thought was above my talent; that my heroine has got a sharp temper; that John Donne’s poems make some delightful foreplay; and that my hero and heroine have strong opinions on how important choice, and the lack of it, is.

So. Here I am. While I anticipate that glorious moment, I am also thinking about holidays, and gifts, and such; what gift would you choose to reward yourself for a job well-done (or at least well-ended)? What are you hoping for this holiday season? What am I hoping for this holiday season? And what completed project has brought you the greatest satisfaction?

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Be afraid. Be very afraid.

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It’s here. It’s begun.

My extended family officially voted this year to exchange gifts, much to my dismay. We’d escaped unscathed for a few years–gifts for kids only–although the number of rule-breakers over the years has increased. Last year I was on deadline and didn’t even do any baking; we came more-or-less empty-handed and left staggering under the weight of guilt and loot.

The subject came up in today’s Cary Tennis article in Salon, when someone wrote in bemoaning the fact that kids today (oh does that ever make me feel like the old fart I am)–and some adults too–only want cash and gift certificates. While I find his response inexplicably silly (it’s all our fault as representatives of today’s materialist society) I loathe the idea of both because then the recipients know exactly how much I spent. I’d far rather buy something spectacular, unusual, and dirt cheap (ebay, here I come). But what do you get for the nieces and nephews you see only a few times a year and who you really don’t know? Or the adults who have everything? (My solution may well be Heifer International, a nonprofit I’m very fond of.)

Now I can’t delegate this to my husband, who, once when his workplace had a gift exchange of socks–a foolproof idea, you would have thought–gave a pair of socks that were not only used but stained (oh okay, they had some sort of heating element in them so they were special and oh-so-useful), and the recipient was a bit surprised and my husband is still surprised that she was surprised, and so on. As he points out, at least it wasn’t underwear.

And it’s times like this that I envy people in the past. In very early pagan times you might have given someone special a tree branch as a gift for the New Year (“Oooh, leaves! My favorite!”) which is why there’s so much emphasis on trees and greenery and Yule logs around Christmas. In the Regency, possibly you might have given the odd shilling to the servants and a condescending visit to the poor with gifts of gruel and the promise to see about repairing the nasty leak in the roof, then back home to the mansion to eat and drink yourself silly (much like the rest of the year in fact). And church, of course–my, what party animals they were.

So how do you and your extended family handle the gift problem and are you satisfied with it?

Give yourself the gift that keeps giving all year–a subscription to the Riskies newsletter. Sign up now at riskies@yahoo.com with NEWSLETTER in the subject line.

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To Do Lists

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Murphy’s Law is playing havoc with me this month. Besides the head cold and the bunged up toe I mentioned earlier, I now now have another injury. On Thanksgiving Day I waged battle with a maple sapling that had the temerity to spring up 6 inches from the house and hyperextended my elbow. Ouch! On the National Novel Writing Month front, I have 39,000 words, so if I want to reach the goal, I need to write 11,000 more by Friday night. And holiday activities are ramping up. Sigh…

I am so fried that only my trusty To Do List saved me from missing my Wednesday blog post. I don’t know what I’d do without my list. I started doing really elaborate day-by-day To Do Lists a few years ago when I realized my short term memory, never particularly good, was totally GONE.

My To Do List is depressingly mundane, including such exciting items as “buy fish food” and “clean vaporizers”. Occasionally I try to add something more interesting, like “try out Shrimp Pad Thai recipe”. Still lame, I know!

I’d rather think about what my To Do List would be like if I were a Regency heroine in her HEA.

It might include “Ride through the countryside on my well-bred hack.”

If the weather was not cooperating, maybe it would be “embroider some pretty face screens”. (I wouldn’t be one of those heroines who despise needlework–I truly do enjoy it.)

Or maybe “practice the harp”. (OK, I don’t know how to play the harp but I definitely would if I lived during the Regency. While we’re fantasizing, I’d also be as slim as the lady depicted here.)

Or perhaps, “walk with my husband on our extensive grounds”. (‘Walk’ being a euphemism for benefit of any servant who might catch sight of my list. Not that the servants wouldn’t guess but they would be so very well-trained as to never, ever intrude.)

So before we head back to harsh reality…

Have you ever had a Calamity Jane month?

Is there anything interesting on your To Do List?

What would be on there if you lived in the Regency?

And do you think I have a prayer of reaching 50,000 words by midnight Friday???

Elena
www.elenagreene.com

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AUSTEN TREK, THE NEXT GENERATION: Data Strikes Back

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Or, if Jane Austen wrote Star Trek…

As had happened before, Mr. Data attempted to amuse his fellow officers on the bridge with what he took to be a well-timed joke.

And, as had also happened before, and too many times to count (unless one has a positronic brain), Commander Riker grinned in a way which seemed to say, he was not so much amused by Mr. Data’s wit, as he was by his epigrammatic clumsiness.

“I see what you think of me,” Data told Riker gravely–“I shall make but a poor figure in your log to-morrow. I know exactly what you will say: Commander’s Log, Star Date 47457.1; Mr. Data embarked upon another jocular assay, to little effect.”

“Indeed I shall say no such thing.”

“My dear sir,” said Data, “I am not so ignorant of the ways of human beings as you wish to believe me; it is the human habit of recording such unimportant and clearly biased information in Starfleet logs which accounts for the easy style of speaking for which your species are so generally celebrated.”

Mr. Riker shrugged his shoulders with a modest grin. “I should not think the superiority was always on our side.”

“As far as I have had the opportunity of judging, Mr. Riker, it appears to me that your own style of speech is faultless, except in three areas.”

“And what are they?”

“A general deficiency of subject, a total inattention to sense, and a very frequent ignorance of grammar.”

“Upon my word! I need not have been afraid of disclaiming the compliment. You do not think too highly of me in that way. Very well, now that you are in a mood to tell me my flaws, do not hold yourself back: how do you feel about my appearance?” And his grin seemed to say that, whatever faults Mr. Data might find in his speech, in the matter of comeliness, even the most emotionless android must concede William Riker’s superiority.

“It is very clear to me,” said Data, gravely examining Mr. Riker’s face, upon which a beard had abruptly appeared the day before, “that I am but a poor judge of such quintessentially human matters. Else I might declare that your chin resembles nothing so much as a well-used breeding ground for tribbles.”

For earlier installments of Austen Trek (which NBC would have cancelled after season two, had they known of it), just click on the link below which says “austen trek”…

And be sure to join us next Tuesday, December 4, when our Jane Austen Movie Club discusses the most recent version of Pride and Prejudice, a.k.a. the one with Keira Knightley and Matthew Macfadyen.

Cara
Cara King, who finds Data’s inability to use contractions to be as baffling as Catherine Tilney’s complete cluelessness

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Lord Castlereagh

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I’ve been researching Lord Castlereagh (Robert Stewart, Viscount Castlereagh, later Marquess of Londonderry). “From March 1812 to July 1822 Castlereagh’s biography is, in truth, the history of England.” (from the biography at http://www.nndb.com). During this period he had the leadership of the House of Commons as well as being Foreign Secretary. His diplomacy kept the alliance between Great Britain, Austria, Russia and Prussia together at a crucial time in 1814, and Castlereagh also figured prominently in the Treaty of Paris and the Congress of Vienna, thus playing a crucial role in the history of Europe as well as Britain.

It’s as his role of Foreign Secretary that he will play a role in a proposal I’m writing.

But to tell the truth, Castlereagh has intrigued me for a while now, ever since I read about his suicide in 1822. After a bout of gout and much stress, Castlereagh became depressed and paranoid. “My mind, my mind, is, as it were, gone,” Castlereagh had said. Both the Prince Regent and Wellington warned his doctor that Castlereagh might try to take his own life. His razors were removed from his room but a letter opener was forgotten. Castlereagh used the letter opener to cut his throat.

I think it was that horrific means of killing himself that first struck me about Castlereagh, a man who had achieved such great things. Having worked in mental health I had an understanding of clinical depression and an acute empathy for its sufferers. Knowing Castlereagh suffered from such a painful depression makes me feel so incredibly sad for him.

It seems so obvious to me that Castlereagh was a truly great man, but while he was alive, he suffered much unpopularity. In his native Ireland he was considered a traitor because he supported union with Great Britain. He was held responsible for the repressive “Six Acts” passed by Parliament after Peterloo. Even his remarkable decisions to stabilize Europe were criticized at the time. Castlereagh even (probably because of his paranoia) thought he was going to be accused of homosexuality.

Learning all this made me even sadder for him! It’s not fair!

Do you know how it is when you learn a lot about an actor or actress, that you have the illusion that you know them? You have a vivid idea of their personality, of what kind of person they are. That’s how I feel about Castlereagh. Like I know him. It’s how I feel about Wellington, too. And Jane Austen… and Emma Hamilton.

I feel I know Byron, too, but I don’t like him. Here’s what he wrote of Castlereagh shortly after the man’s tragic death:
Posterity will ne’er survey
a Nobler grave than this:
Here lie the bones of Castlereagh:
Stop, traveller, and p*ss!

Grrrrrrrrrrrr.

Is there anyone in the Regency or in history whom you feel you know?

By the way, the excerpt from The Vanishing Viscountess is up on my website now. Also notice the snowflakes on my site! Aren’t they pretty? While you are exploring the site (which of course you will want to do) sign up for my newsletter. And while you are in the signing-up-for-newsletter mood, sign up for our Riskies newsletter, too. Just email us at riskies@yahoo.com and put NEWSLETTER in the subject line.

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