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Can we talk about food? Honestly, I don’t know how our heroines aren’t big as houses–most of the lifestyle books I’ve read about the Regency suggest that butter was big, and vegetables weren’t. Plus dinners were long, drawn-out events with course upon course upon course.

If I had lived during that time, I would be challenging Prinny to a weight-off.

Why am I talking about this? Because, like a lot of women, my eating is psychologically motivated. My agent is in the midst of submitting my Regency-set historical, Lessons In Love, and so far I’ve gotten three [very nicely-worded] rejections. My immediate response has been to head for the cookies. My next response has been to think about how I’m getting older (I’m 42; here I am in one of my favorite vintage dresses. It hides a lot.), the metabolism seems to be slowing, working out is hard enough without carrying extra poundage, and really, eating cookies is such a silly reaction. So I settle for a rice cake or iced coffee or something. I’ve still gained a few pounds, but at least it’s not more than a few pounds.

I’m guessing some of the more expertish of Riskies know exactly what the ladies did back then to keep from expanding like the universe–constantly. There was all that needlework, the occasional sidesaddle horseback ride, walking around the gardens, changing clothes, writing letters, etc., etc. No elliptical for those women.

I am guessing that some of you, as well as my fellow Riskies, also have “bad” reasons for eating; what do you do to stave it off? (And why does eating have to be “good” or “bad”?) What’s your favorite ‘me time’ indulgence? How do you think our heroines kept their slim, girlish figures?

Megan

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This Sunday, Risky Regencies will be interviewing Loretta Chase (well, duh, Megan, we can all see the blog header). Fine, then. What’s the point, you ask?

Anticipation. Just yesterday a package, a much-anticipated package, arrived from Amazon. In it was:

50 Great Curries of India, Tenth Anniversary Edition
Anne Stuart, Ice Blue
Loretta Chase, Not Quite A Lady

I bought the 50 Great Curries cookbook because my friend Myretta Robens had it at her house when I visited a few months ago, and I love cooking and eating Indian food. But that’s not the point, either.

I got Stuart and Chase because they are two of my personal author goddesses. They are, in romance vernacular, on my auto-buy list. Other authors on that list include my fellow Riskies (and my budget thanks you for putting out so many books, Diane! NOT.), my writing friends, and other of my favorite authors: Mary Balogh, Eloisa James (who is also a friend), Laura Kinsale, J.R. Ward, Carla Kelly, Stephenie Meyer, Lilith Saintcrow, and yeah, there are more.

BUT, because I am so goal-oriented, I am going to have to wait to read Loretta and Anne (First-name basis? Sure, why not?). What will I have to do before I get to open the pages? A few ideas:

Lose three pounds
Write 50 pages
Dust the living room
Go through the 7″s in the closet that are haunting me (
vinyl records, Janet, you filthy thing!)
Write 100 pages
Lose five pounds
…well, you get the idea.

So–do you hold out books as rewards for yourself, or can you not resist diving in as soon as the mailman has turned his back? What must you do before you indulge in reading? Are any of my auto-buy authors yours, too?

Megan

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Today (I am writing this on Thursday) has been a rotten, rotten day. Not for any pointable reason, which might make it okay; no, I’ve just meandered around, not getting anything done, and done is how I like things.

I tried to write, but came up with a paltry page of kinda meh words. Not sure if they will survive in the next 24 hours. So rather than gripe (ahem! it’s a change of pace, okay?), I thought I’d make a list of what is, or might be able to, make me happy:

Clive (Thanks to Colleen Gleason for letting me know this was out there).
Friends (see above).
Getting the new Loretta Chase from Amazon.
Having my eyebrows threaded so I don’t look lopsided, or constantly surprised.
Starting a new book while waiting for Loretta Chase to arrive (um . . . not her, precisely, but her book), hopefully one with lots of gratuitous sex scenes.
Spring time might finally be here?
New black socks.
Mortgage rates went down today; we’re in contract for a house, haven’t yet locked in a rate.
I inherited my husband’s old iPod, and spent my subway time listening to Chemical Brothers–gotta get me some of those ‘Block Rockin’ Beats!’
Did I mention we are buying a house? In Brooklyn? NO MORE WHITE RENTAL PAINT!
My friend returned my copy of Persuasion, so I can watch Ciaran Hinds be all remote and hurt until he’s not. Le sigh.

What are your Reasons To Be Cheerful?

Megan

*You remember Ian Dury and the Blockheads, right? They also did “Sex And Drugs And Rock’n’Roll” and “Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick”

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No, I’m not. Very superstitious, that is. (the picture is a cover of a book entitled Friday The Thirteenth, and I thought the woman looked suitably frightened.)

Although I do have to admit to a bit of trepidation when Friday the Thirteenth rolls around–I mean, when some just plain old regular days can be so stressful, what about ones that are especially unlucky? (Fear of Friday the Thirteenth is called “paraskevidekatriaphobia.” How cool is that?)

I did a bit of hunting, and found that Friday AND the number 13 are both considered unlucky, which is why the combination is supposed to be lethal.

A newspaper advertisement from 1913 encouraged people to get over their superstitions and embark on the Happiest Time Of Their Life (sarcasm intended):

WED FREE FRIDAY THE 13TH

Pastor’s Offer to Any Young Couple
Willing to Take the Chance.

MIDDLETOWN, N.Y., June 10 — Any young couple bent on matrimony may have the ceremony performed free next Friday by applying to the Rev. Charles H. Reynolds, pastor of the North Congregational Church.

Mr. Reynolds does not believe that Friday is unlucky, nor that Friday, June 13, 1913, is unlucky, and therefore he offers to tie the knot free of charge for any young couple who comes to him on that day.

Imagine if you did that, what kind of courage you would have? I am not sure I would be so bold.

The only bad thing that’s happened today is that I forgot this was my day to post, but that was soon rectified. Of course, it’s always early–coffee could be banned, Clive Owen could mention he hates people who mention him constantly in their blog posts (not to mention have them as their screensaver), maybe wearing the color black all the time would suddenly be linked to being secretly snarky–oops.

Anyway, what superstitions do you have? How are you doing today?

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Last Saturday, I was lucky enough to have dinner with authors Myretta Robens, her critique partner Sandy Tabor, Loretta Chase, and Evelyn Richardson.

In the course of dinner, wherein we discussed authentic 19th century pigs, colonial Williamsburg, Venice, marriage contracts, and how much we love mashed potatoes, we talked about writing.

Writing, we decided, is the one thing we do that doesn’t have instant gratification. If the kitchen floor needs mopping, you pull out the Swiffer and have a go at it. Fifteen minutes later, you’ve got a clean floor. Other people can see you’ve got a clean floor. You’re certain you’ve accomplished something.

With writing, all the gratification is delayed–writing your 1,000 words, five pages, one chapter, etc., doesn’t reward you the same way sparkling linoleum does.

That conversation made me realize that my ability to procrastinate is just my desire for instant gratification. If I clear off the dining room table instead of write, I’ve done something I can point to and say ‘it’s done!’ The most insidious form of this instant gratification thing is posting to a blog–it’s writing, so it’s satisfying that way, but it’s also done, and you can see it’s done, and others can see it’s done. It can become a substitute for real writing, the kind that we’re theoretically doing when we log off Blogger.

So, since my brain is not always so smart, I am going to figure out a way to satisfy the instant gratification thing AND get some longer fiction writing done. How? By setting daily goals, by making writing my 1,000 words, five pages, one chapter, something my brain believes is a tangible, instant result. Silly brain.

And in a few months, I will have an entire book to show for it. Now that’s gratifying.

What tricks do you use to fool your brain? Do you offer rewards for completed tasks, like getting to read a new book?

Megan

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