At the moment, I’m knee-deep in researching art and art criticism of the 1880s-1900s, and I am dizzy with all that I did not know! I’ve discovered a multitude of art journals, women art critics, art movements peculiar to England, and a host of competing galleries and cliques outside of the Royal Academy. Simmering on the backburner is research on girls’ schools (I am constructing my fictional school from a number of real life schools), the publishing industry (my hero, Hallam, owns a book publishing company), women chemists and English chemical societies, and the London theatre world. On top of this I have to keep track of the status of women’s suffrage in 1904 (WSPU was founded in Manchester in 1903, but did not make a name for themselves until 1905!), train travel, the London Zoo, girls and women’s fashions, sports in girls schools, how art was taught, and politics!

Lest you feel overwhelmed reading all of this, I must admit that I wing it most of the time: I’ll bookmark some pertinent information and then read it when time comes for it to be used in a scene. Also, since The Lady is Tempted is part of a series, all of this research is pertinent for the other books. Phew!

Nevertheless, this reminds me of why historical romance tends to be “lighter” on the history than historical fiction. Most novelists in the latter genre are expected to write meaty tomes full of historical detail that may take a year or more to write, whereas in the former, the production schedule is usually a book due every six to nine months (and heaven forbid they schedule back-to-back releases!). Research for most is usually like an iceberg–the portion readers see is usually 1/10th of what we authors have conducted!–but it’s still time consuming to acquire, and I assume many writers still find new facts after they’ve completed their manuscript.

I personally don’t feel satisfied unless I’ve searched through every nook and cranny of my favorite research hubs (Google Books mostly, New York Times archives, academic texts, old magazines and newspapers, etc) for nuggets that will enhance the characterization and the plot, because I love the process of building a world around the romance. Perhaps my method might not work well with publishing schedules, but who knows. All I can say is that this works for me and is part of my evil genius plans to increase awareness of the hybrid genre between historical romance and historical fiction!

“Robber Hiding Under A White Wall” by chanpipat / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

The blogosphere buzz is about Historical Romance. Most of the perspective–including my own–is from a reader standpoint, but since I am a writer, I must throw a writer-oriented hat into the ring. After I overcame my pessimism over whether or not my writing career would fly as someone who doesn’t write Regency Historicals, I decided to be proactive. I can’t control the market or what readers will buy, but I can control my writing–meaning, I can package an unusual setting as appealingly as possible to readers/editors/agents/whomever who are happy with the current historical romance offerings.

I tend to be an inside-out writer in that my research sparks an idea or gives shape to an idle idea instead of the idea coming first and then the setting (though, sometimes I do move things around until it “fits”–my current WIP didn’t fully click until I made the hero the brother of a previous MS’s hero and moved the setting from Yorkshire to an Essex seaside resort). To turn that idea into a workable premise, I then brainstorm a solid hook that won’t require me to mention the book takes place in 1916 Serbia or 1893 Chicago or 1921 Derbyshire. This isn’t always easy, so I turn to the following resources:

1. Tropes

Entangled Publishing, for example, aggressively pursues their target readership by making certain their releases hit popular tropes: friends-to-lovers, wrong bed, revenge, arranged marriage, etc. On paper, a trope can seem trite and lifeless, but many can be easily combined to give some texture to a story. They also, naturally, spark the “What If?” part of plotting a book.

2. Reading Regency romance blurbs

I cut my teeth on traditional Regencies alongside gothic romance, so despite the perception of Regency-bashing in this conversation, I have no problem with the setting (incidentally, I re-read a comfort read two nights ago–Catherine Coulter’s Midsummer Moon and have recently enjoyed Tessa Dare and Ashlyn Macnamara’s latest releases). That said, there is a goldmine of premises to be found in the “genre” that I like to work into an Edwardian setting. Good Ton, a now defunct website devoted to traditional Regencies, featured pages of books that fit under popular plot lines found in trads–another version of the trope. With the Regency Historical, it’s enlightening to see what readers respond to–family series, group of male friends, etc–and see if that too can be worked into the Edwardian setting.

3. Looking at contemporary romance blurbs (especially Harlequin category romance)

Some tropes in romance transcend genre, and I like to look at what’s popular in category romance to see if there are any premises that could work in a historical setting. Funnily enough, Harlequin Presents and many Harlequin Romances from the 60s and 70s have plots that wouldn’t be amiss in a historical romance (especially those written by British authors).

4. Character types

Alpha heroes, hoyden heroines, etc etc, but to take it a step further, I can look at, say, the popularity of the tortured ex-soldier hero come home from Waterloo, or the governess heroine, and put them in the context of my setting: tortured ex-soldier hero invalided in WWI, and the heroine can be a professor in the 1900s!

5. Movies

I know, I know–people groan at using popular films and TV shows as part of the high concept hook, but it can work when you’re stumped. I like to dunk this in a little more history than most when I do turn to this source, but it’s a snappy and intriguing way to give someone a familiar reference to latch onto in an unusual setting (e.g. Jeannie Lin’s My Fair Concubine–>My Fair Lady/Pygmalion in Tang Dynasty China). I also like looking up the plots of old movies on TCM.com–I do have plans for a Bringig Up Baby-esque plot, lol.

So there you have it–my five tips to keep from scaring people away from your books set in 1940s Georgia (US) or 1897 Australia! (tongue placed firmly in cheek about scaring people, by the way).

Image courtesy of Phaitoon / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

This was a comment on Dear Author’s latest post about historical romance, which was written to address AAR’s Lynn Spencer’s lament about the decline of historical romance, but I didn’t want to hog the comments section.

But first my comment from last week’s Dear Author:

…I think the only way for the sub-genre to shake itself up is if we have a Fifty Shades of Grey phenom: something that originates outside of the genre and trickles down to us. Contemporary romance, erotic romance, and New Adult exploded over the past year when ex-romance readers, non-romance readers, and even romance haters devoured the trilogy and wanted more. Self-published authors and e-publishers first filled the void, and then publishers sat up to repackage backlists and sell new content from the superstars of these genres (Sylvia Day, Maya Banks, Beth Kery, et al) for these voracious new readers.

Historical romance can’t even ride the wave of popular period dramas like Downton Abbey, Hatfields & McCoy, Vikings, et al, because it’s still surfing the Jane Austen break of the 90s. Which is the sub-genre’s main issue: it has no “gateway drug” to attract new readers who will push for something different. Someone who enjoys suspense/thrillers can easily slide over into romantic suspense; someone who enjoys vampires/werewolves/etc can easily slide over into paranormal romance and urban fantasy; someone who enjoys chick-lit or women’s fiction can pick up Victoria Dahl or Robyn Carr. We aren’t going to see historical fiction readers–or even Downton Abbey fans–traipse over to the romance section and pick up books with half-naked cover models, seemingly dubious historical content, and titles like “Sins of a Wicked Rake at Midnight.”

Another issue–regarding the self-pub market–is that newly self-published authors are selling books NY did not want (not a slur on the quality, but the reality of submitting your work). If an aspiring HR author decides to put up those four books NY rejected, it’s a given that they are Regency Historicals–that’s what’s selling and you write what’s selling (and what you read). Why would an author determined to sell to a traditional publisher write books set in 1840s New York or Dark Age Britain? It’s freaking scary to be an outlier. It also requires a lot of balls to stick out your neck with unusual settings/plots/characters, and more than a little hubris, when your chances of garnering attention, readers, and a steady income is safer if you color inside of the lines.

I love history, period, and–for the sake of the romance genre–believe a deeply romantic, HEA story can happen in any setting or era, and for all types of people. However, perhaps many others don’t–the Regency setting is “safe” from the elements many feel are not conducive to a blithe HEA. Move into the Victorian era and everyone has Dickens, repressed sexuality, and grimy poverty on the brain. Move into the Edwardian era and everyone has the horrors of WWI in mind. And then the Great Depression of the 1930s if you move further into the 20th century. Move backwards in history and everyone thinks about lice, rotting teeth, smallpox, etc. Move over to America and everyone thinks about slavery, Native American oppression, and racism. The Regency setting is not exempt from its own horrors, oppression, and turmoil, but via the works of Austen and Heyer, it has been shaped into a soothing “fairy tale” period of history.

This perception of history is the challenge non-Regency authors must face (or perhaps Regency authors who cull from history rather than rely upon Heyerisms), and is probably why books set in 1840 or 1755 or 1893 still read like “Regencies”. Having just completed a romance set during WWI, I certainly kept this challenge in mind because I don’t want to scare readers away, lol. That said, I did have many moments where I second-guessed myself over whether the book fit inside the boundaries of the historical romance market (Sherry Thomas mentioned this in last Friday’s post). But I had the time to experiment with what to add and what to extract because I am not traditionally published; a published author juggling multiple deadlines does not.

This is not to say romance authors skimp on research, but the parameter for historical fiction is bound by “what happened” (or what is perceived to have happened), whereas speculative fiction (paranormal romance, romantic urban fantasy, SFF romance) is freed by “what if?”, and contemporaries by “why not?”. “What happened” combined with the expectations of the romance genre means things must be fudged, or at least spiffed up to reassure readers that the HEA means the h/h will live in bliss, in prosperity, and in chrysalis (I was intrigued when Kate Noble’s latest release, Let It Be Me opened with a prologue set in the 1890s where the Regency heroine was now elderly and the hero had been dead for many years–wonder if that upset some readers). This unique desire for historical romance readers could also be why novels inspired by the writer’s ancestors are written as historical fiction–perhaps many are too close to the reality of the past via their grandparents or aunt or great-great uncle to think of the 1940s or 1910s or 1870s as fodder for fun historical romance, whereas the Regency setting is far away enough and quite glamorous.

Overall, I don’t think historicals are going anywhere, but for new and emerging writers, I feel the clue to revitalizing the genre is not to look to what has happened–look at what is to come. Young Adult fiction is shaping how many read and consume fiction, and this audience is going to seek fiction akin to what they grew up on (hence why New Adult/Mature YA is–in my controversial opinion–meeting the needs of YA readers who wouldn’t “get” adult romance [YA romance is plentiful, so why riffle through mom's Harlequins as you grow up? Very unlike how it seems many current romance readers were introduced to the genre]). Readers like Liz, Jessica, and Robin/Janet have mentioned needing to acclimate themselves to the language of the romance genre when they discovered it, and I think this is a vital and important element when musing about the future of the genre. I don’t claim to have fully hashed out my own thoughts or even reconciled my own writing with these ponderings, but I can’t ignore that they exist and will influence whether my writing career will sink or swim.

Thoughts? Rebuttals? Opinions?

It was shocking to realize I hadn’t baked anything in about two and a half months–which was when I embarked upon the first epic novel writing adventure of 2013–and the baking bug bit me hard yesterday evening. My refrigerator is packed with unsalted butter, my flour stashes are full, I have two 18 cartons of eggs, and sugar is plentiful, so as is my wont, I began baking before I started dinner! At first I thought about making another batch of shortbread until I remembered the half-eaten batch that ended up covered in drippings when I left it in the oven while cooking bacon, and switched my baking agenda to a pound cake. The America’s Test Kitchen Family Cookbook is my absolute favorite modern cookbook because the people at the Test Kitchen get me: I don’t just care about what to cook, but the hows and whys of cooking. Why are eggs the basis of cake-making? What are the pros and cons of making pie crust with butter+shortening or butter only? Yolk wash or egg white wash for pastries?

You get the picture.

I trust their recipes implicitly, but I was not exactly satisfied by the pound cake recipe because it always tasted too eggy. On a whim a few months ago, I used two eggs instead of four and dumped some Greek yogurt into the food processor (I figured it’s an emulsifier–but correct me if I’m wrong). The cake was moist and less eggy, but it was a little too crumbly! The next time I used sour cream instead of the Greek yogurt and perfect! I had a bag of lemons on hand that had begun to ripen, so I figured what better use for them than a lemon pound cake? The Test Kitchen cookbook lists variations of the basic pound cake recipe (lemon, ginger, and orange), so admittedly, this is a very slight adaptation of theirs.

Lemon Pound Cake

(adapted from The America’s Test Kitchen Family Cookbook)

1 1/2 cups cake flour

1 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp salt

1 1/4 cups white sugar

2 lemons

2 eggs

1/2 cup sour cream

1 1/2 tsp vanilla extract

2 sticks unsalted butter (melted)

1.Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease and flour loaf pan.

2. Place sugar in bowl and squeeze lemon juice into it (don’t worry about clumps)

3. Whisk flour, baking powder, and salt in a small bowl

4. Process sugar-lemon mixture, vanilla extract, eggs, and sour cream in food processor. Keep processor running while you pour melted butter into processor. Mix for 30 seconds.

5. Pour liquid mixture into large bowl, then whisk flour mixture—1/3 part at a time—into this. Mix until most clumps are gone.

6. Pour into loaf pan and bake for 50 minutes. Cool for 20 minutes.

Et voila!

Enjoy with a dollop of lemon curd or whipped cream!

The Great British Sewing Bee (courtesy of BBC2)

I’ve been sewing since I was a teenager convinced she was going to be the next Donna Karan or Coco Chanel, and though I have a love/hate relationship with it (I hate sewing, I love having sewn, to paraphrase Dorothy Parker), there really is nothing more thrilling than seeing the construction of a garment from pattern piece and bolt of fabric to the finished project. As a result, I loved The Great British Sewing Bee from the first minute. Project Runway is fun and everything, but The GBSB is strictly about home sewers and garment construction rather than sartorial theatrics.

Because the focus is so simple and basic, each episode really hammered home the concept of “K.I.S.S.”–Keep It Simple, Stupid. This was never more apparent than in the beautifully-constructed garments turned out by 81 year old Ann. Each episode featured multiple challenges to display various sewing skills, and of them all, Ann produced the best garments not because her items were the flashiest, or the most innovative, or eye-catching, but because she kept her head down and focused on the work of constructing a pair of men’s trousers, or a new neckline for a blouse, etc etc.

Watching Ann made me grin and squirm uncomfortably because in general, it’s easy to mistake grabbing people by the throat with your designs, or even your books, as the best and only method of winning a competition or creating buzz. It’s also easy to create a bad habit of constantly looking about at what everyone else is doing instead of keeping your eyes affixed on creating your best work to the best of your ability. And on the flip side, if you feel out of your depth, your attempts to cover your inadequacy end up making the product even worse!!

So my top five lessons learned while watching The Great British Sewing Bee:

1. Basic skills are the foundation of success.
2. Mind your own business!
3. Try new concepts only when you feel grounded in the basics.
4. Don’t be afraid to rely upon the boundaries (or sewing patterns!) laid by the more experienced.
5. You have more time to accomplish things and execute them well if you focus on each individual task instead of tackling the entire project at once!

And can we all have our own Patrick Grant?