And in the Real World . . .

I've been partying lately, celebrating my own birthday and the many, many other September birthday people I know.  Lots of Virgos, and now Libras, which suits me fine since I'm a cusp baby, and am very familiar with duality, mine included.  That duality has recently proven valuable in a way I'd never before considered. 

Yesterday I sent off a non-fiction book which I wrote with my daughter to my agent in New York for review and comments.  I had Daughter #2 on the phone with me when I hit SEND to let it fly into cyberspace. 

I won't pretend I'm not nervous.  I would like this project to be successful; my daughter has great hopes for it and I'd hate to see her disappointed. And I'd love to explore my duality as a writer.  I didn't know I had any.  Yes, I've written non-fiction before, had years on newspapers in school, and I knew I could write a coherent sentence.  But it's been a while.  Most of my published work has been fiction, with historical settings.  I wondered if that would be a help or a hindrance when I started to write the non-fiction book.

I discovered that I could make the switch to my natural tone very easily.  I don't know why I worried about it, after all I don't talk in an historical mode at the grocery story, or to other writers, or with His Majesty (except for  . . .oh, never mind. TMI, TMI).  I talk like a 20th century person (yes, 20th century.  I don't think I've evolved into a 21st century person yet.  Stay tuned.). 

It was a fun book to write.  I had worried about how we would do writing together.  I've got my own ways of working, and she hers, and I didn't know if our methods would mesh.  And I didn't want anything to upset the very close relationship we have.  I'm delighted to report that it was a thrill to write with her.  She's smart and hard-working, and so mature and rational.  It literally was joyous.  I make no apologies for thinking that my two daughters are the most wonderful women on earth, and it was gratifying to discover how easily Daughter #2 and I worked together.  I'm so proud of her!  And I'm proud of the book we've created.  I hope that one day it will be published and you and I can talk about it together.

I'll let you know.

Wait, Let's Think About This Again

Yesterday I talked about how much I enjoy football, right?  But last night, as His Majesty was watching the second game of the Monday Night Football double header, I had some misgivings about my enthusiasm.  Why?  Well, name another sport where a sign of approval and/or friendship is evidenced by smacking the recipient of the emotion upside the head.

Can you imagine that in women's gymnastics? Instead of the obligatory hug between a couple of miniscule 14 year old girls on the same team, they'd smack each other on the side of the head.  Maybe not.

OK, so maybe golf?  Uh, no.  Swimming?  Don't think so. 

I'm afraid to suggest tennis after the drama at the US Open.  I'd rather have Serena yell at me than smack my head.  Just saying.

In basketball the guys do the butt tap, and in volleyball as well - although the women volleyball players usually hug.  Isn't it interesting to see the differences in the genders?  Woman hug, providing encouragement, affection, and congratulations.  Men smack each other - which does what, exactly?

And why is the childhood phrase "boys go to Jupiter to get more stupider" running through my head?  Once again, I enjoy being a girl. 

Football season!

I know, I know, I write historical novels (mostly) and football has nothing to do with the 13th century.  Or does it?  Organized sports are, of course, a civilized and ritualized form of war.  The whole premise is very primal: my tribe is better than your tribe.  People who have absolutely nothing in common beside the city in which they live, will bond like brothers over a sports team.  And I'm as guilty as anyone.  For years His Majesty and I were rabid Rams fans.  Even I knew all the players and felt qualified to comment on the coach's calls, etc.  But when Georgia F. took over the team and took it to St. Louis, we stopped being fans.  I have to admit I missed having a team to cheer on.

Then our girls went to USC and we got into college football.  I love it!  We used to know some of the guys on the team to cheer for, but they've all graduated, as have our girls, so now we just cheer on the whole roster.  Last Saturday found us glued to the USC/Ohio State game.  We won, but it was a hard fought game with a Hollywood ending.

I think what I'm really drawn to is the drama of it all.  Good stuff.  Next week we play Washington.  I'm already worried.

Non-Fiction

I'm writing a non-fiction book with my daughter and finding it quite delightful.  No wondering what the characters would wear or whether I've gotten the politics of the era correct.  I don't have to weave in those sub-plots or stew over what the character would be feeling when I've backed him into a corner.  This one is just straight-forward.  Not a secondary character in sight - my Patty and I are characters enough.

Still, it's still proven more difficult to write than I would have thought.  I'm finding that I'm editing my entries as often as I do my fiction work, and discovering, as I do each time I re-read my words, that I often write drivel the first time.  And second.  And . . .   Sigh. 

In my next life I've going to be a cat.

Remembering

I'm taking some time today to remember the events of September 11, 2001, and saying a prayer for peace in our time.

What's in a Name?

I'm in the beginning stages of my next historical novel and am fretting over secondary characters' names. I've got the year (1285), the settings (England - London, Warwickshire, and Northumbria), the main characters' names, and a fair idea of the plot (social turmoil - so not a new thing for me). So why am I hitting the wall about the names of characters who will not be the main focus of the book? I dunno. But I do, at least once a book. So Virgo of me to want the names to be historically correct and still sound normal to 21st century readers.

My heroine is Lucy, named after a wonderful woman who I adore. My hero's name is Nicholas, named after my fellow Whine Sister Sherri's son. Both names were common and even popular in 1285, so that works, and although my research turned up a Lucy who married Sir Marmaduke, I don't think I'm going there. I've made it a point not to use names of family or friends, but I made exceptions for these two.

What makes it difficult is the scarcity of original names. Edward, Richard, John, Nicholas, and James are the most frequent in the London registers, but the king was Edward, so I can't use it or risk confusion. Same with women's names. There were thousands of repeats of Margaret, Eleanor, Alys (spelled about 50 ways), Ermegarde (yuck), and Mary. I've already used Margaret and Mary as main characters and the diminutive (of Eleanor) Nell in ON A HIGHLAND SHORE.

Sometimes I have fun with names - ugly sounding names for ugly spirited people, names with particular meanings, like Muirin, which means "of the sea" in "Daughter of the Sea" in THE MAMMOTH BOOK OF IRISH ROMANCES.

And then there are the surnames. I've frequently used family names. The Hale sisters are named after His Majesty's mother's family. The MacCurries were named after my mother's cousins. Burke was another cousin, changed to de Burke to suit the period. Sometimes I use names that have a special meaning to me - like Louisa, in the KILGANNON books, named with gratitude after Louisa May Alcott, who wrote LITTLE WOMEN, which started me down this path.

OK, enough procrastinating. Back to the name game! Let's see . . . maybe Marmaduke isn't so bad after all.