Category: Writing

Posts in which we talk about the writing craft and process

All the Bookish News!

Updated on October 15, 2022 by Sandra Schwab

Today I come to you with all kinds of bookish news: I’m currently knee-deep into the production of new print editions of all of my books. (It kind of hit me when I was preparing Eagle’s Honor: Ravished, which I have entered into the RITAs, for print that very few of my novels were actually available as paperbacks. So it was definitely beyond time to remedy that situation.) Moreover, a few weeks ago, I also discovered how to create drop caps in MS Word and since then I’ve been on a roll. As you can see from the picture above. 🙂

For the print edition of Castle of the Wolf, my Beauty & the Beast story, in which a young woman inherits a mysterious castle in the Black Forest, I chose a set of initial letters that reminded me of old fairy tale books. I thought that was quite fitting since fairy tales play a very important role in the story.

So this is the good part. However, overall Sandra’s Adventures in Print Publishing didn’t go quite that smoothly. The grumpy dude on the cover? He’s orange. “But, Sandy,” you might say, “he is not orange in that picture above.” Yeah. I know. I applied a number of filters to that picture above because I didn’t want to inflict his glow-in-the-dark color on anyone. So if you’d like to get a nice new edition of Castle, please wait a few days. I’m currently fixing it. (I just hope he doesn’t turn out to look like a zombie this time around.) (That’s what living in a run-down castle does to you: turns you into a zombie!)

But what *did* turn out really nicely is the frontispiece (see? I’m really on a roll here! hehe!): I did include a sketch of the Kastelburg in Waldkirch, upon which the castle in my novel is (partly) based. Here is a picture of the frontispiece in the making:

Annnnnnd in other bookish news, my grumpy centurion, whom I mentioned in my last post about doing portraits, is going to hit bookshelves this Friday. I so enjoyed telling Caius & Lucius’ story. I fell in love with these two when I first wrote them as secondary characters into Eagle’s Honor: Ravished, which is set ten years after The Centurion’s Choice, and I knew from almost the start that I very much wanted to tell their story as well.

For me, one of the great joys of writing the Eagle’s Honor series is that has expanded into an exploration of family relations across several generations as well as an exploration of family stories. Family stories formed an important part of my growing up – my paternal grandmother in particular liked telling me stories about the time when my father and his sisters were little, and sometimes also about the time when she was a young woman. And above my parents’ dining table there’s a huge collage of family pictures going back as far as the 1890s. So my own experiences of how people in my family talked about their past and about people from past generations I’ve never met, very much informed the way I have been approaching the stories the Florius family share.

I love imagining what kind of stories members of the Florius family would share about past generations and what kind of things would be passed from one generation to the next. And also imagine what sort of circumstances would interrupt this chain of oral traditions; in how far memories might change over time. For me, it’s a really nice way to link these stories that set apart several decades. (And of course, I hope readers will enjoy these links, too!)

But, of course, these family stories just form a tiny part of the background for The Centurion’s Choice, which at its heart is a enemies-to-friends-to-lovers story. With a very grumpy centurion. 🙂 (Watching those grumpy guys fall in love is always such great fun, isn’t it?) So without further ado, here’s the blurb for the novella. I will add buy links on Friday, when the book comes out.

It’s 178 AD, and barbarian tribes once again threaten the borders of the Roman Empire. To make matters worse, Lucius’ promotion in his auxiliary cohort has been denied, and instead the governor has appointed a moody, mean-tempered Roman to become the new centurion of the Septem Gallorum. And, incidentally, to trample all over Lucius’ ambitions.

Tall and burly, Centurion Caius Florius Corvus might be way too good-looking for Lucius’ peace of mind, but the man has also made it abundantly clear that he doesn’t trust Lucius as his second-in-command. Yet as they are swept into war and each has to shoulder his responsibilities, a reluctant respect begins to grow between them, which soon grows into friendship — and, perhaps, more?

Posted in Former Riskies, Writing | Tagged books, Gothic romance, Romans, Sandra Schwab | 1 Reply

There Will Be Grumpy Earls…

Updated on October 15, 2022 by Sandra Schwab

Last evening I finished the first draft of my new Regency story, and I’m still in that finished-the-book stupor that makes you feel as if your head is stuffed with wool. So instead of attempting to write something clever about mummers’ plays (which I mention in The Return of the Earl – and I mention them with SO MUCH GLEE because it’s a topic I did some research on for my PhD thesis, and to me, it’s always such a delight when I can make use of some of my older research 🙂 )…

Sooooo, instead of trying to write something clever about mummers’ plays, I’m going to give to you an excerpt from the new story. With a grumpy earl!! (See picture above)

The Grumpy Earl has come home after some years of absence and is majorly disgruntled when he finds his former lover has become his stablemaster. So, of course, Grumpy Earl is even grumpier than usual, but he will not give anybody the satisfaction of staying away from his own stables & thus goes to said stables the next morning & bellows for a horse. Which makes the stablemaster come over.
____________________

And now, finally, for the first time in thirteen years, Con could clearly see those two-toned eyes—muddy-green and stormy-blue—and for a moment, he felt quite dizzy at the familiarity of them. He could almost hear his memories battering at their cage. If he left them out, now, here, in front of this man, he would disintegrate and shatter into a million pieces.

He would be damned before he gave the stablemaster that satisfaction.

“You want to ride?” the man asked.

“Yes.”

The stablemaster’s brows rose. “Have you had any practice in the past years?”

Con compressed his lips and thought about snapping some reply about a stablemaster’s proper deference to his employer. But he wouldn’t give the man the satisfaction of letting him rile him either. Oh no!

Thus, Con just gritted his teeth and forced out, “Of course, I have.”

Bryn’s lips twitched briefly as if he had to hold back a smile. At that tiny movement, Con felt an unexpected tightening of his stomach.

How he had loved to kiss those lips when he had been younger! He had loved chasing Bryn’s smiles with his lips and tongue, had particularly loved sucking on that slightly plumper lower lip.

No!

Angry at himself, angry at his damned stablemaster, Con pushed those unwanted memories aside.

Lifting his chin, he gave Bryn his haughtiest look.

But was had proved to be such an effective weapon in the ballrooms and drawing rooms across the continent, turned out to have very little effect on his stablemaster.

“If you say so.” Bryn’s tone was easy, and he didn’t give any indication that he was in any way greatly perturbed by his employer’s demeanor. Instead his eyes briefly flicked down Con’s body, assessing him as if Con were a blasted horse at Tattersall’s.

“What?” Con snapped.

Bryn’s gaze was thoughtful. “You used to have a good seat.” His eyes twinkled, before he turned and began to walk across the yard. “I hope you didn’t forget everything you’ve been taught,” he threw over his shoulder.

Con spluttered with outrage, a hot flush blooming in his cheeks.

How dared he?

Bryn threw him another glance over his shoulder—and Con’s outrage mounted as he spotted the grin on the man’s face.
“Are you coming, my lord?” Bryn called. “I have a few horses you might find suitable.”

Grimly, Con stomped after him. By Jove, how he wanted to throttle the man!

He tried to imagine it: Putting his hands around Bryn’s throat and—

His hands on Bryn’s skin.

Touching Bryn again.

Running his fingers over the strong neck down into the soft, vulnerable hollow at the base of his throat…

This time, it wasn’t just his stomach that tightened, and Con cursed himself, cursed the Fates, but most of all, he cursed his stablemaster.

Damn the man!

Posted in Former Riskies, Writing | 3 Replies

In Search of Braces on the Bookshelf

Updated on October 15, 2022 by Sandra Schwab

Like everybody who writes historical fiction of any kind (I imagine), I have collected a surprising number of research books over the years. Some are exactly the kind of books you would expect to find on my shelves – like the books on English country houses and those on the history of London; others are a bit more… shall we say “eclectic”? There’s a book on medieval warhorses (bought in 2001 when I was in Galway as an exchange student), a very comprehensive book on elements of castle building (bought in 1998 when I was still writing fantasy fiction), a book on secret orders throughout history, a catalogue of the Museo La Specola in Florence (a museum of historical anatomical waxes) (why, Sandy, why?!!?!?), and more than one survival guide.

I started collecting research books for my writing in my late teens, so some of those books I’ve had for over twenty years. (And one book has… um… wandered from my parents’ shelves to my own.) I have always loved knowing that I can probably find a book on whatever I want to look up on my shelves. Of course, with the internet, the game has changed completely. Still, I like to have the books on my shelves — just in case.

Now, when you write the kind of historical fiction where your main characters happily shed their clothes on a regular basis throughout the story, it’s always helpful to know how many layers they have to get out of and how these clothes work. For some reason, though, I had never dwelt much on the exact workings of male clothes, except for the obvious, like, if it’s Regency, you want him to pull off his shirt over his head.

That kind of changed when I started to write m/m.

So after doing some intense research on woolen jumpers, there I was in the middle of getting my two Regency guys out of their clothes, when suddenly it occurred to me, “Oh my gosh, what about braces!?!?!?”

What followed were several minutes of me staring intently at the aforementioned bookshelves, scanning my fashion books — only to realize that while I own a good number of books dedicated to female fashion (like Cunnington’s English Women’s Clothing in the Nineteenth Century or Bradfield’s Costume in Detail 1730-1930), I don’t own anything that is solely dedicated to male fashion.

Oh dear. (= A very British way to imply a crisis of epic proportions.)

But luckily, Johnstone’s Nineteenth-Century Fashion in Detail (bought in 2008 in the V&A) came to my rescue. Though for the most part covering female fashion, it still has a few entries on male clothes. Hooray!

As the title implies, the book focuses on details of fashion and includes close-up photos of specific parts of clothes (even though you always get a sketch of the whole piece as well). Moreover, the notes give information about the construction of the depicted pieces of clothing in question, which is really helpful for understanding how these clothes were worn and how beautifully made they were. (I might have said “Ooooohhh!!!!” a couple of times in response to photographs of gorgeous ruffles down the sleeve of a dress or of the intricate embroidery covering the hem of a dress.)

And then I stumbled across these pantaloons.

Aren’t they GORGEOUS? (And yes, braces. Look at the two top buttons on each side.)

Pantaloons, the accompanying text informs us, “were a form of close-fitting trousers or tights introduced into fashionable dress during the 1790s. They complemented the close-fitting lines of early nineteenth-century men’s coats as they were shaped to the leg, often ending just above the ankle where button fastenings or straps kept them in place. Although difficult to cut and put together without causing creases or wrinkles when the leg was moved, they could look extremely elegant. […] Pantaloons also brought the glamour of military uniform into men’s fashionable dress, especially when teamed with Hessian boots.” The decorated front, however, is unusual, which makes the author conclude that this particular pair might have been for military use.

Still, by that point, I had thoroughly fallen in love with that embroidered front (and all the possibilities it offered for some… eh… playfulness), so I decided they would be exactly the kind of thing my grumpy earl would wear if he wanted to impress somebody special. 🙂

And speaking of the grumpy earl: I got the revision suggestions back from my editor (who loved the story — wheeee!!!), so this morning, my desk features a new, crisp printout of the manuscript, all ready for me to get started on those revisions. Wish me luck!

Posted in Clothing, Former Riskies, Regency, Research, Writing | 6 Replies

Bookish News & a Reading

Updated on October 15, 2022 by Sandra Schwab

I’m terribly late with today’s post (so late that it’s already tomorrow here in Frankfurt) because I had this brilliant idea to record a reading for you only to realize that after more than a year out of the classroom, my vocal cords aren’t quite what they used to be…. In other words, Chaos Sandy has struck once again.

BUT!!!! I’ve finally finished that recording, and I even still have a voice! Wheee!

So, remember how back in January I told you all about my return to Regency England and the garden follies and how I used the grounds of Harewood near Leeds as an inspiration for the grounds of the stately home belonging to the very grumpy earl in my WIP? Well, the very grumpy earl is about to be unleashed unto the world: On Friday, The Return of the Earl will hit bookshelves! Here’s the blurb:

CAN THEY OVERCOME THE BETRAYALS OF THE PAST FOR A SECOND CHANCE AT LOVE?

On the Continent they call him the Ice Prince, icy of manner, icy of heart. Now, after thirteen years of exile, Con returns home to England and to Harrowcot Hall, a place haunted by memories of a long-lost friendship and past betrayals, a place where all of his dreams shattered and died.

But the past is over and done with, and can no longer touch him — or so Con thinks. He certainly does not expect to come face to face with Bryn Ellison again, the man whom he once loved beyond everything and who repudiated their bond in the cruelest way imaginable.

As snow and frost close in on Harrowcot Hall, Con’s icy demeanour starts to melt while he grapples with old hurts and newly awakened passions. Will he give in to the lure of the past against his better judgement?

WARNING:
This book contains a very grumpy earl, a dashing stablemaster, some ravishment in various places, several garden follies, a lot of snow, and a horse called Lancelot

And now please grab a cup of tea and follow me to Harrowcot Hall as I read to you a few snippets from the novella.

I hope you enjoyed the reading!

The Return of the Earl is already available for pre-order on Amazon, and the print edition should be ready by next week.

Now the only question is: What should I write next? I think I might stay with the garden follies of Regency England… I’ve missed them so! 🙂

Posted in Former Riskies, Regency, Writing | Tagged new release, Sandra Schwab | 1 Reply

Release a Duology?

Updated on September 19, 2021 by Isobel Carr

I got the rights back to my “RIPE” series and my wonderful cover artist (and real life BFF) is currently working on new covers for them. I can’t wait to show you what she comes up with!!! One of the opportunities this opens up for me is to release a mirror version of RIPE FOR SEDUCTION with more of Phillip and Margo. One thing I’m definitely going to do is add their reunion scene back into the book.

When I started RIPE FOR SEDUCTION, I wasn’t aware that the Devere siblings were going to be of the “mad, bad, and dangerous to know” variety, but oh, what fun they were to write once I figured it out! Roland Devere, our hero, is a joker who never takes anything too seriously. He’s the embodiment of the English gentleman’s credo “never turn down a bet.” And I had just the bet for him. One based on a real offer made by an eighteenth century rake to a furious widow who quite neatly turned the tables on him. It’s a story I’ve been wanting to write for years. And it made me think of the wonderful ROUND IRELAND WITH A FRIDGE (by Tony Hawk, not the skateboarder). If you haven’t read it, I highly recommend tracking down a copy.

As I began writing the story of Roland and Lady Olivia Carlow (the victim of a bigamous marriage in RIPE FOR SCANDAL), there was undeniable chemistry between Olivia’s father Philip (a sunny man of intellect) and Roland’s very (very!) naughty widowed sister Margo. Margo was an utter surprise to me. She took one look at Philip and decided, “That. Yes, I’ll have that.” And so she did.

Here’s the scene I was forced to trim. I’m really looking forward to restoring it to its proper place in the book. What do you think? Should I release a duology with more from Margo and Phillip? Let me know in the comments.

Philip & Margo’s Reconciliation

Philip found the door Devere had directed him to easily enough. With every step he was half afraid one of her servants would appear to say the comtesse had commanded them to send him away.
He pushed the door open. Margo lay in her bath. The long tub was draped in linen to protect her from splinters, but she wasn’t wearing a bathing shift as a Frenchwoman would have done.
She opened her eyes at the sound of his boots on the floor. Philip shut the door behind him and stood waiting to see what would happen. From across the room he heard the thump of Maldon’s tail and then the hound’s low-pitched whine of greeting.
“It seems a long way to come for an ancient, one-eyed dog,” Margo said.
Philip nodded as he tossed his hat aside and shrugged off his surtout. He draped the loose overcoat over the back of the chair that he dragged to the side of the tub. He dangled his fingers in the water. “It’s a very special dog, though.”
Margo made no attempt to cover herself. She put out one hand, water spiraling down her arm and over her breast.
“Hand me the sponge.”
Philip did as he was bid, then watched with great appreciation as she wet the large sponge and sluiced it over her limbs. One dark curl slipped from the wrap that held her hair up. It spread itself over her breast, the tip curling around her nipple, like the hair of an undine.
“Apparently Paxton will not be returning with the promised towels. Could you bring me my dressing gown? I hate a tepid bath.”
Philip crossed the room to fetch the dressing gown that was spread across the foot of the bed. Maldon padded over demanding to be greeted, and Philip gave the hound a scratch.
Margo stood up as he approached with her dressing gown and his jaw dropped. He’d never really seen her naked. Not like this. Just furtively in dark rooms as they tumbled into beds, and even it wasn’t like this. She looked like the statue of Venus he’d seen in Florence as a boy making the grand tour: rounded perfection, with long legs and two dimples where her hips met her back.

The earl helped her out of the tub and held the robe while Margo slipped her arms into it. In truth, her bath wasn’t yet cold, but she couldn’t stand to have the conversation she feared they were about to have naked. She wanted enough on to be able to storm out if the situation called for it.
Arlington looked as though he’d swallowed his tongue. Good. Margo tugged the small linen towel from her head and let her hair fall. She used it to dry her face and hands.
The earl simply stood and watched. She didn’t want to talk, or explain. She wanted to drag him to the bed. What would he do if she tried? Margo tossed the towel aside, stepped into the earl so they were chest to chest, and kissed him.
His hand knotted in her robe, pinning her to him. Margo felt a surge of wickedness lick though her. He kissed her roughly, hungrily, but when she attempted to steer him toward the bed, he stiffened and stopped her.
“Stop trying to distract me,” he said.
Margo draped her arms about his neck and leaned back just enough to see his face. His mouth was serious, but his eyes were smiling. “As you wish, my lord.”
Her dressing gown hung open. He twitched it shut. “I didn’t come all the way to Paris to bed you.”
Margo wrinkled her nose at him. His cock was hard against her belly. Whatever his intention, bedding her was most certainly on his mind.
“Or not just to bed you,” he added. His hands slid around her waist, fingers fluttering over her hips.
“No,” Margo said, “You also came for your dog.”
“Damn the dog.”
She raised one brow. “I wasn’t going to give him back anyway.”
“Consider him a wedding present,” the earl said.
Margo shook her head. “Think of the scandal.”
“Which you’ll love.” He cupped her cheek with one hand, his thumb sliding over her lips.
“And your daughter?”
“Who do you think sent me?” he said before kissing her.

Posted in Isobel Carr, Plot bunnies, Writing | 1 Reply