What's In A Name by Janet Lane Walters #BWLAuthor #MFRWAuthor #Names #Characters

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I write in several genres. Lately I've been thinking about naming my characters. When I write contemporary stories, creating the names of the characters is easy. We all know the names of people we know and ones we heard on TV and in the news. The one problem here with naming contemporary characters is having two characters with names that sound similar. This can confuse the reader and sometimes the writer. I try not to have two characters' names begin with the same letter. I also seldom use names like Spike or Belle. I do use these as nicknames for a character. Also things like Liz instead of Elizabeth. A writer also needs to know where the character  lives or was born to find a name to match.

Historical novel names are different and call for research. I made a mistake in one historical novel by having the man named Drew, I should have used this as a nickname and named him Andrew. Also when writing historical novels and naming characters, there are names that aren't frequently used today, like Reginald. A perfectly good name in the Regency or other historical times. Some research is needed to find names that fit the period. Of course, many of the names we use today were common in historical times like George or Mary.

When it comes to fantasy or science fiction, I have a rule. The names must be readable. I remember reading science fiction many many years ago when the alien characters had names often many letters long that I never figured how to pronounce. I often skipped over those names. When writing fantasy, I look to make the names pronounceable and ones that might easily be read. I also try to give them names that almost sound like names we know. In one the character is Kylea. This was taking my granddaughter's name Kyla and changing it a bit. In my current book that's the fifth in the Moon rising series, here's some of the names - Ranal for a male and Amera for a female. Both are easily pronounced.

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 So naming names of your characters can and should take time and thought.

Will my book club like the insolence of Lady Pencavel? by Diane Scott Lewis

 

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I had nothing to post with a Christmas theme, but how about a sharp-tongued miss who refuses to conform to the restrictions of the 18th century? Purely a parody and farce, of course. I take all the "romance" tropes and turn them on their heads. "heaving bosoms" and more.

But will my book club like this story or be insulted that I dare make fun of historical romance, as many on-line reviewers were?  

My book club met at Zach's to eat and discuss Lady Pencavel
I'm in the back on the right.

.

One older lady loved it and found it very romantic. She didn't see the 'parody' aspect. Another older lady agreed with her. One said she thought the maid, Clowenna, a little stereotypical. (I loved that character!)

"Funny, teasing and tearing down all the tropes of romance," another said.

"It's accessible to a new reader, plus an experienced reader will understand the layers of poking fun, the satire," our librarian said.

They wanted to know where I found all the unusual Cornish surnames. I had the perfect link for Cornish names and their meanings, but can no longer find it. But other sites are out there.

The consensus was, they loved it, and the majority understood the farce, and didn't think that I'd insulted the romance genre.

My thoughts, romantic stories should be plausible, and not instant love, I must have you forever; though I've heard that happens.

If you want a laugh, and a few winks at propriety, give The Defiant Lady Pencavel a try.

To find out more about me and my books, please visit my website: DianeScottLewis

Diane lives in Western Pennsylvania with her husband and one naughty dachshund.

Making Bread

 

Her Scottsh Legacy | Universal Book Links Help You Find Books at Your Favorite Store! (books2read.com)

            I recently binge watched a series, as many of us have probably done during this pandemic. It was a historical drama and at least once in every episode, the female characters were in the kitchen kneading dough. Given the time period – 1750 – it was certainly a normal enough occurrence, at least for the more common folk. The wealthy, of course, would have cooks and kitchen maids making their daily bread or in some cases would order it from commercial bakers.

            Unknowingly, I used this same daily activity in my latest historic romance – “Her Scottish Legacy”. As I wrote, I found my characters quite often in the kitchen where the housekeeper seemed to spend her days making bread. When the heroine asked about it, the woman replied – “Have you seen the two giants I’m cooking for?” – referring to the housekeeper’s husband and the hero, both of whom were large, hard working men. The thing is, some action needs to be occurring while a conversation is being held that moves the story forward. In addition, having information about foods, and/or the method of preparing them, in a novel gives readers insight into the daily life of whatever time period the story is set.

            For example, in the medieval period baking was a luxury few were able to enjoy. Ovens were not a standard fixture in any household, so bread-baking never really entered the home in the medieval period. It was a commercial activity, such as bread-bakers in London. But those who could afford a wood-burning stove (and to heat it) would start with bread. The better the quality, the higher up the social order you were. Rich people ate fine, floured wheat bread. But if you were poor you might have only rye or black bread. Only the very wealthy ate the cakes we tend to think of today.

        It’s fun to add texture to your stories with bread-specifics of the time. In my story, the Scottish bannock is a flat, round bread, larger than the scones and not to be confused with the medieval trencher. In medieval times, people used thick bread rounds as plates, called trenchers, with meat and sauce heaped on top. Then we have the French baguette, developed in the 18^th century; the pretzel by European monks in the 6^th century and the bagel by Ashkenazi Jews in Poland in 1400. And of course you’ve heard the story of the “invention” of the sandwich by John Montagu, the 4^th Earl of Sandwich in the 18^th century.

        Another surprising fact is that yeast breads have been around since 1350BC, possibly first created by the Egyptians who used yeast in making beer. It is not clear as to which came first – beer or bread.

        I love baking bread. Punching and kneading dough has always been a great stress relief. It’s unfortunate that in the last few generations the art of bread making has been lost. It is so much more convenient to purchase and of course much less time consuming. I believe a “benefit” of the pandemic is that bread making has made a comeback although at the beginning of 2020, yeast and flour were difficult to find.

        Would you like to try your hand at bread making? Here’s one of my favorite recipes for delicious coarse-textured bread your family will love.

Bulgur Honey Bread

1 cup bulgur wheat (dry)

3 cups boiling water

½ cup honey

2 Tbsp oil

1 Tbsp salt

2 packages dry yeast

½ cup warm water

6 ½ to 7 cups flour

            Combine bulgur, boiling water, honey, oil and salt in a large bowl. Cool to lukewarm. Add yeast to ½ cup warm water and stir to dissolve. Add to cooled bulgur mixture. Blend in flour in 3 parts, beating after each addition until dough leaves side of bowl. Turn onto lightly floured surface. Knead until smooth and elastic and doesn’t stick when pinched with fingers. Put in a greased bowl and let rise until double (about 2 hours). Punch down, divide in half and shape in loaves. Put in two loaf pans, cover and let rise until double. Bake at 350 degrees for 45-50 minutes. Brush with butter.

While you’re waiting for your dough to rise, download and enjoy “Her Scottish Legacy” at Her Scottish Legacy | Universal Book Links Help You Find Books at Your Favorite Store! (books2read.com)

Barb Baldwin, who often judges the quality of a restaurant on whether they serve fresh, home made bread and biscuits or brown-and-serve.

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Who were the Paladins of Charlemagne? - by Vijaya Schartz

The Curse of the Lost Isle series starts in the time of Charlemagne and the Viking Invasions and ends during the Crusades.Find these books on my page at BWL Publishing HERE

When Charlemagne ascended to the Frankish throne in 968AD, he designated twelve Paladins to help him rule the Frankish Kingdom. They were highly trained noblemen, expert swordsmen and fierce warriors. They, took a solemn oath of fealty and swore to abide by Christian rules. Some say they were the first chivalric Christian Knights. Others argue they were Charlemagne’s henchmen, extortioners and executioners… which, in these violent and troubled times might be closer to the truth.

Ending the Dark Ages, Charlemagne united Europe in the name of Christianity, against invaders from the north (Vikings) and the Saracens in Spain. He beat medieval Europe into submission and imposed strict Christian rule. He established schools, promoted education, the copy of illuminated religious manuscripts, art, architecture, and he also maintained a formidable army.

On the battlefield, after a victory, Charlemagne gathered the surviving enemy soldiers, made them kneel, and gave them a choice. Convert to Christianity and join his army, or be beheaded on the spot. Of course, many converted, giving the new faith lip service only. Better be a live Christian than a dead Pagan, right?

Still, a number of vanquished soldiers chose death over conversion. Pagan roots ran much deeper than Christianity in many places.

The Celts, in particular, gave Charlemagne a difficult time. Especially the small kingdom of Brittany (French Bretagne) a bed of Celtic culture and legends, the birth place of Merlin, the place where legends of Vivian the Fae, Morgan the Fae, Pressine the Fae, Palatina the Fae, Meliora the Fae, and Melusine the Fae, still flourish, among other myths.

To deal with these pesky Celts, Charlemagne nominated his trusted nephew, the Paladin Roland, to administrate the Marshes of Brittany on the western frontier.

Roland is still famous in France and throughout Europe. This is his statue in Metz, France, not on a church or historical building, but at the train station.

The story of Roland:

Roland sworn in by Charlemagne as a Paladin knight

Roland, and Olivier, his childhood friend, swore fealty together as Paladins of Charlemagne. Roland is poetically associated with his sword Durandal, his horse Veillantif, and his oliphant horn.

The Song of Roland written much later, lists the twelve paladins as Roland, Olivier, Gérin, and Gérier (killed by the Saracen, Grandonie), Bérengier, Otton, Samson, Engelier, Ivon, Ivoire, Anséis, and Archbishop Turpin ...

There is also mention of Fierabras (meaning proud with strong arms), a converted Saracen knight who seems to have served as the basis for the legend of Percival, of King Arthur’s legends. Yes, medieval romantic tales often tend to ignore chronology as well as historical facts and dates… unless you consider reincarnation or immortality.

While returning from fighting the Saracens in Spain, Roland, closing the long column through the pass of Roncevaux in the Pyrenees, was ambushed by the Basques. He sounded his oliphant horn, calling for help. But his conniving uncle at the head of the march pretended not to hear the oliphant and refused to turn back to help. Grossly outnumbered, Roland and his company fought bravely. Roland, at the end, broke his faithful sword, Durandal, on a boulder, so it wouldn’t fall into heathen hands. Roland and his company were killed to the last, in Roncevaux in 778AD.

Roland breaking his sword on a stone

On Christmas day in 800AD, in Rome, Charlemagne was crowned Roman Emperor of Occident by Pope Leo III. The great emperor died in 814AD. 

But his Paladin knights still fascinate modern youth and keep gathering fame in children’s books and videogames.

If you enjoy reading the heroic myths and legends of the time, I recommend The Curse of the Lost Isle series, based on the Celtic legends of Brittany. The first two books are set in Scotland during the Viking invasions. Then the story of this family of immortal ladies spreads to Luxembourg, France, Germany, Spain, Italy, and the middle East during the Crusades.

Princess of Bretagne, Curse of the Lost Isle, book 1

Currently $1.49 in kindle. Also available in paperback

Find it at your favorite online store HERE 

"Well-written and researched, Vijaya Schartz's "Princess of Bretagne' is a joy to read. Although it is a fantasy, Ms. Schartz deftly weaves in historical aspects and customs of those times. One overriding theme is the clash between paganism and early Christianity during the Dark Ages.... a worthwhile and entertaining read." 5 stars review.

Happy Reading.

Vijaya Schartz, author
Strong Heroines, Brave Heroes, cats
http://www.vijayaschartz.com
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Naming February -- Creativity Month

 

Although February is the birthday month of such great Americans as Abraham Lincoln, George Washington and my son, most people tend to think of Valentine’s Day when you mention February. And of course, Valentine’s Day makes one think of LOVE. So just for fun, I looked up people whose last name was LOVE. Here are a few interesting ones.

Augustus Edward Hough Love, (1863 – 1940), often known as A. E. H. Love, was a mathematician famous for his work on the mathematical theory of elasticity. He also won the Adams prize in 1911 for developing a mathematical model of surface waves known as Love waves. Love also contributed to the theory of tidal locking and introduced the parameters known as Love numbers, which are widely used today in problems related to the tidal deformation of the Earth due to the gravitational attraction of the Moon and Sun. He authored the two volume classic, A Treatise on the Mathematical Theory of Elasticity.

Harry Montagu Love (1877 --1943) was an English screen, stage and vaudeville actor. Educated in Great Britain, Love began his career as an artist, with his first important job as an illustrator for The Illustrated Daily News in London. Love's acting debut came with an American company in a production in the Isle of Wight. He honed basic stage talents in London. He was typically cast in heartless villain roles. Love was one of the more successful villains in silent films.

 

Kermit Ernest Hollingshead Love (1916 – 2008) was an American puppet maker, puppeteer, costume designer, and actor in children's television and on Broadway. He was best known as a designer and builder with the Muppets, in particular those on Sesame Street. Love built Oscar the Grouch and then Big Bird after a drawing was designed by Henson. Love also helped create Cookie Monster. Later, he designed Mr. Snuffleupagus.

Geoffrey Love (4 September 1917 – 8 July 1991), known as Geoff Love, was a prolific British arranger and composer of easy listening and pop versions of film themes. He became famous in the late 1950s. After leaving school at 15, Love worked as a car mechanic and played trombone at dance halls in the evening. Having turned professional at 17, Love joined Freddie Platt's band. Later, in 1936, he joined Jan Ralfini's band playing in London and learned to play jazz. With the outbreak of the Second World War, Love was called up and joined the King's Royal Rifle Corps. While in the armed forces, Love spent time learning orchestration by questioning musicians how best to write for their individual instruments.

 

Courtney Michelle Love (née Harrison; born July 9, 1964) is an American singer, songwriter and actress. Her career has spanned four decades. In 2020, NME named her "one of the most influential singers in alternative culture of the last 30 years." Love has also been active as a writer; she co-created and co-wrote three volumes of a manga, Princess Ai, between 2004 and 2006, and wrote a memoir, Dirty Blonde: The Diaries of Courtney Love (2006).

The interesting thing I noticed about these people was they were all very creative and left their marks on the arts, including music and writing. Even the mathematician wrote books. As a writer myself, I love the idea of making February creativity month, especially for those of us who write romance--the story of relationships and love.

Not all of my romance novels have the word “love” in the title, but as I look them over, I found three different subgenres that did. “A Game of Love” is a contemporary set in Boston with a little mystery, a lot of passion and even a ghost. “Love in Disguise” is an historical full of hidden identities, murder and intrigue and a very feminist heroine even though it’s set in 1876. One of my most recent, “Loving Charlie Forever” is a great time travel set in an old west town in South Dakota; again with mystery and a great deal of romance and love.

All the love and romance you could want is available in these and other books of mine available through Books We Love at https://www.bookswelove.net.

My love to you this February and throughout the year.

Barb Baldwin

http://www.authorsden.com/barbarajbaldwin

https://bookswelove.net/baldwin-barbara/

 

Earth Walker

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A powerful connection to the earth is a common theme among all 1^st Nations’ people about whom I’ve read, whether they live north or south of the arbitrary lines European colonists drew upon their home land. In every story I read written by 1^st Nations’ People, there is a recollection of a childhood where adults have carefully fostered a deep consciousness of what European culture commonly puts in a generalized lump called “Nature.” It’s that experience with which we European moderns, the “come heres” of the western hemisphere, are -- every day-- less and less familiar.

Football with my cousin, 1950's

Instead of gazing at screens all day, most folks my age (+70) remember playing outside regularly, especially during school summer holidays. My house was near a dairy farm and the surrounding fields were in hay and alfalfa. The farmer didn’t care if my mother and I roamed across them, or if I went by myself to a wonderful pond adjacent to a woodlot. In the spring it was full of tadpoles, crayfish, and blue gills. Later, in summer, it was full of multicolored frogs. Butterflies and dragon flies sailed above muddy flats, and floated over flowering plants, whose names I did not know, although I much admired their bright colors and floating seeds.  

Sometimes I’d see rabbits, fox, or woodchucks, or come across deer at their midday rest.  Red-winged blackbirds nested among the cattails; purple martens performed their fighter-pilot maneuvers over the pond.  At home, we even had a mud nest of barn swallows every year on the far end of our porch—off-limits to us until they’d finished rearing their adorable, plump, dun-breasted family.

For several years as a young teen I was sent to a summer camp--my parents' were fighting their way toward a divorce--for the entire three months. This particular camp was truly rustic, with unheated cabins, water you carried in buckets, and a bunch of retired police horses. These days it would probably be closed down as unsanitary and unsafe. You could take a bath--if you were willing to go to the owner's house--once a week. Otherwise, you "bathed" in the farm pond in the afternoon.

Some water came into it from chilly springs , but a creek flowed in at one end and over a dam at the other, so it was constantly in motion. The pond had been part of the original farm for years, so it was established. Water snakes cruised among the lily pads and cattail beds. While those reedy spots were green and inviting in the slanting afternoon light, we stayed as far away as possible, treading water and playing mermaids in the middle with friends.

It was, among us campers, a badge of honor to never go to the big house and take a bath. How humiliating! How sorry we were for the girls whose parents insisted upon it! The rest of us washed our bodies and our hair in the pond. We floated bottles, half filled with air and half with shampoo, as well as cakes of Ivory soap on the surface beside us. After a day of playing games, hiking in the woods, riding and grooming horses, and entertaining ourselves with marathon games of jacks--we dismantled the ping pong table to use the smooth wooden surface--everyone was ready to wash off the sweat before dinner.

When I returned home at the end of August, at my mother's insistence, I marched straight upstairs and ran the bathtub full. Standing naked before the mirror, I could see the brown dirt residue left from three months of "bathing" in a silty farm pond. The swim suit outline was shades darker than my suntan.

Many years ago, my granddaughter was taken for a walk in the woods for the first time when she was around two years old. Her entire experience of "outdoors" up until then had been playing in groomed suburban yards, or passing through parking lots and shopping malls with her Mama. After a first walk with her daddy on a nature trail, she haughtily pronounced the leaf and stick strewn paths “messy and uneven.”

It’s a funny story, but it’s also sad, as it shows how limited a modern child’s experience often is of this world in which she lives.  Fortunately for her, Dad got the message. From then on, he spent time with his girl out-of-doors, so she wouldn’t suffer from what I’ve come to look upon as Nature Deprivation. She can now out-walk her Grandma any day.

Snow picnic, 1970's, at a favorite spot

When she went to college, this eighteen year old was surprised to find "Walking" was a physical education course. As phys. ed. was required of freshmen and sophomores, she signed up, and then she was again surprised by the exhaustion and pain of which her classmates complained.

Considering all this, I guess it’s no wonder that so many people today are disrespectful of the earth, especially if shopping malls, macadam, and the virtual world are all they experience. It’s not only a great emotional and spiritual misfortune for them personally, but I believe this disconnection is the root cause of our civilization's current mega-scale disregard for our only home, our birth mother. 

Pipeline explosion

I’ve been reading To You We Shall Return by a Lakota author, Joseph Marshall III. This is part of an ongoing attitude adjustment exercise, as I hope to broaden my outlook and see the world through another cultural lens. (The one with which I was raised seems to have ever so many blind spots.) From that book is a Traditional Lakota Prayer to Mother Earth: 

 Grandmother,

You who listen and hear all,

You from whom all good things come,

It is your embrace we feel

When we return to you.

~~Juliet Waldron

All My Historical Novels

Genesee's story:

 Red men & White, at war in the world and in her blood.

Seat of the Pants + Writing Fiction

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That's what it is these days, pretty much, seat of the pants. Fortunately, I'm no longer an office worker, where this tendency is job-ender! Retired, however, I've become increasingly this way--culminating in tonight, wherein I crown myself Princess of Procrastination. 

My husband seems to believe that I have a record with put-off-till-tomorrow syndrome. He says he remembers college, and me sitting up half the night, bent over a textbook, performing a last minute stuffing on facts. But---shhhhh--I remember him breaking open his Statistics book the night before the final...

What happens when you yourself, a writer of books and proud, self-declared "Seat of Your Pants Plotter" find that inspiration has failed you? The seat of those pants has worn through, or something. 

I'm accustomed to being led (grabbed by the throat) by my characters, who are usually chatty and full of stories about themselves and their friends and relations, but what if they wander off and fall down a rabbit hole?

Far too many have been doing this to me lately. They start off with a conversation which really seems to be going somewhere, but suddenly, as if someone filled their 18th Century teacups with many, many drops of Laudanum, they fall back senseless upon the appliqued cushions of the settee, or, more likely, just vanish down a dark hallway of the rambling manor which belongs to their uncle, the sixteenth Earl of Whatever, and never return.

Afterward, no matter how often I attempt to recontact them--offering them dinner parties, glorious, thundering steeplechases, or handsome sweethearts, late night trysts in the Earl's topiary gardens or witty dialogue in Regency Ballrooms, they refuse to come out and share their stories with me.

This has been happening for the last year or so. It's annoying, really, when all the chatter just stops, because up till now I've been able to rely on my characters supplying entire story lines. Or to put it another way, the thread I've been following in the labyrinth breaks and there I am, left alone in the dark. 

I can't lay this at the paws of the two cats who vie for which one can jump the most frequently on my forearms while I am attempting to create. 

(Lizzie, who really knew how to cuddle on my forearms in such a way that I could still type.) 

Tony & Willeford show no interest in mastering Lizzie's talent. Willeford assumes the meatloaf position directly in front of the keyboard. Tony faces the monitor and refuses to be turned, so his legs keep straying onto the keyboard resulting in stuff like ,,,,hkkkjhkhgkkkkkkkkgkhhh;;;;;;;;;;

Schuyler in full meatloaf

But this cat-blaming is a deflection, a writer's cop-out. 

Facts are: I've gotta get this heroine I've been imagining back to work.  Perhaps a long absent relative from the East India Company--or maybe from the equally exotic, violent world of plantation Jamaica--needs to show up, in order stir the pot, and pique my young character's interest. I'll even go back to the drawing board of a re-write if that's what it takes to get the seat sewn on my plotting pants again.

Fellow fiction writers: Please be so good as to let me know if you have any tricks up your sleeves. (Pretty please?)

~Juliet Waldron


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