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Tag Archives: Megan

Don’t you wish you could marry for money?

With the economy faltering, perhaps we can learn some lessons from our heroes and heroines as to how to economize (“Retrench? Retrench! How may I retrench“).

1. Wear the same gown every day. When your gown is threadbare, turn it inside out and start wearing it that way.

2. Throw entertainments inside your home.

3. When venturing out, make just going to town the entertainment. No cost to you! And you might just find a husband, too.

4. Rise with the sun, go to bed with the moon.

5. Pay your servants paltry wages. Threaten them with no references if they complain.

6. Never pay your bills, except gambling debts. Those are debts of honor.

7. Become popular, so you get invited everywhere.

8. “Forget” your reticule when shopping.

9. Start writing a secret newspaper column/illustrating humorous cartoons for extra cash.

10. Take up spying.

11. If you’re a courtesan, threaten to publish your memoirs with names unless the men pay up to keep you silent.

12. Go to sea.

13. Head for India/the West Indies to make your fortune.

What can you think of?

Megan

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Look, like a lot of you, I wrestle with the oxymoronic construct of wanting to read super-sexy scenes AND historically accurate stories.

It’s really hard (no pun i.) to put the characters into situations that are satisfying in a modern sexual context as well as maintaining the period’s standards.

So us authors end up justifying ourselves (and our characters) with bizarre situations to explain the action.

I’ve been working on a synopsis lately–my best one yet! (which isn’t saying much)–and I have to figure out a way to have the heroine want to have sex with the hero, even though she’s traveling to her fiance’s estate. All without making her a total, moral-less slut.

So I’ve come up with giving him nightmares, which she wants to comfort him from, and her feeling free of society’s strictures for the first time in her life, and plus he’s really hot, but I still think it’s going to be tough sell.

What books juggle this difficulty well? What situations could you see one of our heroines putting aside her societal rules and getting it on with Mr. Hottie? What explanations of such behavior bother you in our books?

Thanks–

Megan

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Fashion is a form of ugliness so intolerable that we have to alter it every six months.–Oscar Wilde (1854 – 1900)

Next week, because of my freelance work, I am interviewing designer Isaac Mizrahi and What Not To Wear‘s fashion expert Clinton Kelly and makeup artist Carmindy.

Not that I’m terrified, or anything.

But it got me to thinking, of course, as most things do (that don’t revolve around Clive, Sean or Richard; they just get me to drooling). And, because my head is portioned between political debates, returning to an old writing project, waiting for the agent to let me know things, where are my cute sweaters and what will my son be for Halloween, I had a lot of different thoughts.

Play along with me:

–what would a What Not To Wear-type person advise one of our heroines?
–did shy debutantes feel as scared as I do to meet famous people, like dukes, and such?
–why weren’t there any designers, rather than modistes, in our era? Charles Frederick Worth is reputed to be the first designer with a house and all; why weren’t’ there any before then?
–what did poorer, but still fashionable, ladies do to stay a la mode (here I’m thinking of Isaac Mizrahi’s line for Target)?
–what makeup existed to enhance a lady’s looks without making her look like *that* kind of woman?
–were there lady reporters? I know there were in some of our fiction, but did they actually exist?
–and, what questions would you ask any of those three I’m talking to next week?

Thanks!

Megan

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At what age, I wonder, do people get involved with politics? I have had a passing interest for some time, but have never had the fevered intense fascination I’m feeling now before.

Is it ’cause I’m getting older? Wiser? Both?

I dunno; it might be just me. After all, people of any age get political, whether it’s protesting a shorter lunchtime at school or anti-apartheid demonstrations that close down college buildings (as happened when I was at Barnard) or the draft.

I guess it’s when politics get personal that we get passionate.

So instead of settling in, as I should be at the end of a long week, to a good book (note to sharp-eyed folks: I’m talking a REGENCY book, so I can stay in keeping with our site. Carry on) and a glass of wine, I’ll be tuning in to watch the first Presidential Debate. I will have wine, though.

In some ways, this avid passion makes me feel as though I am contributing something to our times, even if it’s just opinion from a grumpy mom. Perhaps that is why women–who until recently haven’t had much of an opportunity to get involved directly–participate so ferociously, if fired up. For example, the new movie The Duchess will likely touch on Georgiana (because we’re on a first-name basis) and her political maneuverings.

Have you been active this campaign season? What are you doing tonight? Do you have suggestions for any good debate drinking games?

Megan

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From Barbara Cartland‘s The Prince And the Pekingese:

You have come!” the Prince exclaimed.
“Yes,” said Angelina softly. “I have come.” The Prince paused for a moment looking at the beautiful young woman in a way that made her tremble. “You are so lovely and yet … ” There was a throb of pain in his voice that made Angelina long to comfort him. Whatever we feel for each other, “she whispered, “I realize your country must … come … first.” The Prince looked up sharply. “We feel for each other?” he repeated. “Tell me … what you feel for me.” Angelina shyly lowered her eyes, but his tone was rough and insistent. “Tell me,” the Prince said again. And suddenly, as if it came from the very depths of her being, Angelina’s clear young voice miraculously cried out: “I … love you. I love you. I love you!”

Oh. My. God.

I cannot believe I devoured this stuff when I was young. Granted, I was young, but still–

Along those lines, I was thinking lately about how I’m not comfortable writing heroines who are under 20 years old; when I was 18, in age similar to Cartland’s ellipsis-talking ladies, I did many foolish things. For example, when my first real boyfriend broke up with me, I wore gray eyeshadow so it’d look like I had been losing sleep and walked around with a copy of Vladimir Nabokov‘s Despair so he’d know how I was suffering.

And, of course, that’s not even mentioning the poor fashion choices I made, or how I cut class to go with my best friend Anthony to watch him play video games (he was good enough to spend a quarter for about an hour’s worth of play).

So now that I’m older, and theoretically wiser, I want to read heroines who I believe would make good choices. I don’t want to read about high school age girls who are way wise beyond their years, or who behave like real high schoolers do. Either one is unappealing. I like the current trend towards more mature heroines, although that means us authors have to devise new ways of still making them available (poor family, governess, widow) and somewhat inexperienced (spinster, widow whose husband had some potency issues). It makes it harder and sometimes anachronistic, to write and read heroines who fit the high, yet realistic, standards us romance readers demand.

Have you noticed the trend towards older heroines? What type of heroine did you cut your first romance teeth on? Do you still read those books? And what’s one of the foolishest thing you did in high school?

Megan


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