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Monthly Archives: February 2008

Valentine’s Day exclusive interview with Cupid

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On the Big Fat Day of Luuurve we’re pleased to have as our special guest Cupid, the god of love.

Welcome to the Riskies, Cupid.

Thanks. Make it quick, girlie. It’s a big day for me.

Okay. First, I–

And enough of the pink, okay?

Sorry. Is this better?

[Cupid grunts and retrieves a packet of Camels from his quiver. He lights up.]

You smoke?

So? It’s a stressful job, let me tell you. And, hey, what’s it going to do to me? I’m an immortal. You should see their faces in the convenience store when they ask for ID.

Don’t you think that also might have something to do with you being naked? Okay. So how was your job during the Regency?

The Regency wasn’t bad, all things considered. Not too much whalebone, and no steel–that was tough, dealing with Victorian corsets. You wouldn’t believe the number of arrows I ruined. I had some fun, though, making people fall in love with unsuitable partners. Prinny was a real sucker and talk about a target you couldn’t miss… That Byron, he was a real babe magnet–didn’t really need my help but I shot Lady Caroline Lamb for him so he didn’t get too full of himself. And now and again I’d get a duke to fall in love with his cook, and that was always good for a laugh.

Is that what you enjoy about your job? Making trouble?

Basically, yes. Otherwise it gets pretty boring.

Have you ever considered a career change?

It’s difficult for a deity; you do what you do. I wouldn’t mind something where I got some action myself–I wouldn’t mind becoming a shower of gold or a bull, if I had to–but you get tired of hovering around boudoirs with your arrow ready to fly off the string, if you know what I mean–

I’ll have to cut you off there since we’re not that sort of blog. How has the job changed over the past two centuries?

Hmm. Well, no one thinks in terms of unsuitable matches much, which takes a lot of the challenge out of the job. I’ve had some arrow losses with underwire bras, but nothing to complain of particularly. Hold on, that’s my cell. [Cupid retrieves a cell phone from his quiver] I’ve gotta take this. It’s my agent….[after a brief conversation he clicks the phone shut] Sorry babe, gotta go. I’ve got a chance at a chocolates commercial. It’s been great. See ya.

[exits in a flutter of wings and cloud of cigarette smoke]

Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone. Tell us what you’re doing to celebrate!

I’m blogging today over at the Wet Noodle Posse on the hazards and thrills of writing historical characters, and guest blogging–and giving away a book–tomorrow, Feb. 15 at a new blog, Lust in Time.

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How womantic!

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I’m all for romance. But Valentine’s Day itself…meh. Something inside me rebels at the directive to be romantic on a specific day. I suppose it’s a nice excuse to get a babysitter and go for an outing but who really needs an excuse?

The other thing that’s a turn-off for me is the torrent of commercial messages telling us exactly how we should be romantic. So many of them leave me cold! For the record (in case Someone is reading this) I’ve nothing against simple sensual pleasures like flowers or chocolate. There’s no such thing as too many flowers or too much chocolate! But so much of what is touted as romantic seems trivializing or hopelessly generic. And when did cell phones become an acceptable Valentine’s gift? I’d as soon have the proverbial frying pan.

What I find romantic are things that are personal. A back rub after a bad writing day. Jewelry that is either modern and artistic, or antique in feel, like the Wedgewood pendant my husband (similar to the one shown) gave me when he saw how much I like blue jasperware.

I suspect it’s hard for a lot of modern men to go out on a limb and do something risky and original. Maybe that’s one of the draws of historical romance: the idea of a hero who will express his feelings in an eloquent and personal way. I don’t know if the average male during the Regency was really any more romantic than the modern one, but just think of the torrid letter Captain Wentworth writes to Anne in PERSUASION:

“I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own, than when you almost broke it eight years and a half ago. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you.”

Sigh… Watch me collapse in a puddle!

So how about you? How do you feel about the conventional trappings of romance? What do you find romantic, in real life or in fiction?

Elena
www.elenagreene.com

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Bertie the Beau: in hiding?

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As many of you know, Bertram St James (one of the most noted Tulips of Regency society) mysteriously traveled in time, arriving a few years ago in our world of McDonalds and baggy jeans. He likes to turn up here at Risky Regencies on occasion to share his observations of modern life…but he has not been around recently.

In fact, I have not seen him in ages — although he promised he would share his thoughts on Valentine’s Day. But as far as I can tell, he, his valet, and his massive wardrobe have gone off somewhere…but where?

Breaking news: I still do not know precisely where Bertie the Beau is, but I did receive a telephone call from him. The transcript, which interrupts your regularly schedule Valentine’s Week Post, is as follows:

Cara: Hello?

Bertie: Why do they say “dial nine for an outside line,” when one only needs to dial “nine” when one is inside? Or does “inside” pertain to the telephonic callee? But how am I to know whether the individual for whom I am calling is out of doors or in?

Cara: Bertie, is that you?

Bertie: Who else possesses such mellifluous tones?

Cara: Um, yes, of course. How are you, Bertie? I haven’t seen you in ages.

Bertie: I am beautiful as always — need you ask? Oh, and is a “pants press” a new model of weight training machine?

Cara: Bertie, are you in a hotel?

Bertie: I cannot tell you where I am — who can say whether an insect is eavesdropping on the wire?

Cara: Wait — how are you paying for all this?

Bertie: Oh, never worry about money. Dreadful thing. Have you been watching the Lost Show on your TeleVision Box? Did you know they have the Lost Show at the Beverly Hilton?

Cara: Bertie! You didn’t — you aren’t — my visa — the Beverly — aarghh! [unintelligible sputterings follow]

Bertie: Oh, dash! I mentioned the name of the place, didn’t I? Now I’ll have to move again. Do you know if the Bel Age has huge-screen TeleVision Devices?

Cara: Why are you in hiding anyway???

Bertie: Why else, but relations? You recall that my great-aunt Lavinia Sophia Eugenia Kumquat sent notice to the periodical known as In Touch, reporting my nonexistent engagement to Miss Keira Knightley?

Cara: Yes…but wasn’t that a while ago?

Bertie: Aunts have very long memories. Quite like elephants. Come to think of it, my aunts resemble elephants in more ways than just that. If you could see–

Cara: Elephants don’t matter! Are you hiding from your Aunt Lavinia Soph–er, whatever her name is?

Bertie: Oh, she was bad enough. I still deny ever meeting the fair Miss Knightley! (I can deny it if there are not photographical pictures of us on the spiderweb, can I not?) And I certainly never became engaged to anyone. Though I admit that, in her green dress, she is the loveliest “Valentine” any gentleman could want! (Not that I do.)

Cara: So you’re not hiding from your aunt?

Bertie: No indeed — one aunt was not enough to cow me. But two are.

Cara: You now have two aunts in this century?

Bertie: Isn’t it dreadful? My Aunt Gorgon — that is, Aunt Gordon — has somehow joined my Aunt Lavinia Stuffy Aged Kumquat. Aunt Gorgon always pokes me when I do not sit up straight — but how can one be truly elegant without a subtle languor? And she’s not the worst of it! No, she brought along my Uncle Bucephalas Augustus Hund, who always wants me to tramp through nature — nature! the very idea! — and shoot at deer or birds or some other dirty creature with one of those shooting things. And as he’s quite a bit stronger than I am, I think it best just to go to ground and hope he cannot smoke me out.

Cara: I see.

Oh, dear, that sounds like his knock now! Oh, good, my man has indicated I can escape via the balcony. Adieu! Happy Valentine’s Day!

[End transcript.]

So, there you have it. Poor Bertie! (And I do hope he isn’t charging it all to my credit card…)

Cara
who wonders if Bertie has yet discovered Godiva chocolates

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The History of Valentine’s Day

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This week we’re preparing for Romance’s favorite holiday, Valentine’s Day. Of course, the most romantic of us, our dear Janet, has the day and I’m certain she will handle it with respect and decorum…..ahem….

Most of what we know of St. Valentine’s Day is legend, including the belief that Valentine’s Day originated in the Roman festival of Lupercalia, in which, among other things, young men ran naked through the streets striking anyone who came in their way with shaggy thongs, whatever they are. Women purposely got in their way, because it was believed that being struck by naked men wielding shaggy tongs would increase fertility or guarantee safe childbirth.

There were about three Saint Valentines, but legend has it that the one attached to the celebration of love was a second century AD priest . Roman Emperor Claudius II believed unmarried men made better soldiers, so he banned soldiers from marrying. St. Valentine defied the emperor and married soldiers in secret. Valentine was caught and imprisoned, but he continued to do good deeds, like curing the blindness of his jailer’s daughter. He also is said to have penned a note to his sweetheart signed “from your Valentine,” and supposedly was executed on February 14. All that is really known of him is that he was made a saint by the early church.

The first mention of St. Valentine’s Day associated with romantic love comes from Chaucer’s poem, Parlement of Foules, written to honor the anniversary of the engagement of King Richard II of England to Anne of Bohemia.

For this was on seynt Volantynys day
Whan euery bryd comyth there to chese his make

Likely Chaucer was referring to a different St. Valentine’s Day, because the engagement took place on May 2. Later scholars assumed Chaucer’s poem meant February 14, but English birds have always been smart enough to wait for warmer weather to mate.

Here’s a fun fact. In 1400, a High Court of Love was established in Paris. It dealt with love contracts, betrayals, and violence against women. (Happy Valentine’s Day, mesdames)

The French also have the claim to fame of writing the first Valentine. Of course, it was written in London. Imprisoned in the Tower of London after the Battle of Agincort, the Duke of Orleans wrote a poem to his wife:

Je suis desja d’amour tanné; Ma tres doulce Valentinée…
(Charles d’Orléans, Rondeau VI, lines 1–2)

Ophelia (1601) mentions St. Valentine’s Day in Shakespeare’s Hamlet.

Pepys mentions Valentine’s Day, as well. By this time (mid-1600s) the tradition of giving gifts to ladies seems to have taken hold.

Sending love letters or specially made Valentines became a tradition by the late 1700s, continuing into “our” period, the Regency. In the 1840’s an enterprising American woman, Esther Howland, whose father owned a stationary store, had the idea of mass producing these Valentine’s Day love letters and the Valentine’s Day Card was born. To this day the Greeting Card Association gives an annual Esther Howland Award to the year’s best greeting card visionary.

What are your Valentine’s Day traditions?

*Sources of information: Wikipedia Valentine’s Day and Answers.com

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Interview with Christie Kelley

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Welcome to the Riskies, Christie! I’m very excited about this book because I was a critique partner with Christie, and I can’t wait to read the finished version. Christie will drop by during the day to answer questions and comments, and the Riskies will pick a winner, who will receive a signed copy of the book (the usual rules apply–no masquerading under different handles–we know who you are and we will say rude things about your cats).

Christie, tell us about your book:

Thank you for having me here! I really am terrible at giving the short synopsis on Every Night I’m Yours so instead, I’ll give you the back cover blurb:

At twenty-six, aspiring novelist Avis Copley intends to wear spinsterhood as a badge of honor. But when she discovers a volume of erotica that ignites a searing fire within her, Avis realizes just how much she doesn’t know about the actual pleasures of the flesh. Determined to learn more, she devises a daring plan…

Avis chooses Emory Billingsworth, a fellow novelist-not to mention a beautiful specimen of manhood-to instruct her in carnal pleasure. But when the brash earl of Selby, Banning Talbot, a man she has known for years, unearths Avis’ true intentions, he claims she’s made a dangerously bad choice. Volunteering his services for one wicked night of reckless, abandoned passion, Banning promises he will satisfy all of her deepest longings. Yet Banning cannot begin to imagine the effect his willful, voluptuous, and very eager student will have on him-or how far an innocent lesson in desire can go…

Oooh. What gave you the idea?

This story woke me up from a great sleep one night. I had been writing a different story that had both Avis and Banning as secondary characters. I really hadn’t intended on writing about them. At least I hadn’t until I woke up one night to Avis telling me she planned to take a lover. My first thought was, no. A spinster in Regency England just doesn’t do that. Well, Avis wouldn’t listen to me. So I had no choice but to write the story.

What attracted you to the Regency as a setting?

I have been reading Regency set historicals forever. So for me, after I wrote a few manuscripts that should never see the light of day again, I decided to focus on writing what I love to read. Every Night I’m Yours was my second Regency historical.

What’s your favorite part of the book?

My favorite scene is when Avis decides she can’t take Emory as a lover. So she tells Banning that she will have to find another man. Banning blurts out that she should take him as a lover. He’s more shocked that he said it than she is to hear it. When she leaves the room, he realizes that he can’t take his sister’s best friend away for a two week affair. But the more he ponders the situation, the more he realizes that Avis is exactly what he’s been looking for in a wife.

(The Risky question) What part of this book do you–or your editor–consider risky or unusual?

I think the riskiest part was having my heroine make a logical decision to have an affair. This wasn’t an emotional decision based on love but purely on satisfying her own curiosity. Some people might not like that in a romance because she didn’t wait until she was in love with the hero before she bedded him.

What’s next for you?

The story is about Banning’s sister, Jennette. She has a deep secret that only one other person knows, and he’s ready to blackmail her to keep it secret. Only blackmail turns to passion and then to love. It’s been a tougher story for me to write because it is such an emotional book.

Your question or comment enter you into a drawing for a signed copy of the book. Have fun!

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