Saturday, February 6, 2021
Valentines of the Past by Eileen O'Finlan

Friday, February 5, 2021
Ladies in the Age of Chivalry by Rosemary Morris
To find out more about Rosemary's work click on the cover above.
Ladies in the Age of Chivalry
My
novel, Grace, Lady of Cassio, begins in 1331 during the reign of Edward III. It
will be published in August 2022.
At
heart I am a historian. My novels are rich in historical detail that requires
intensive research, some of which I am sharing in this blog.
Chivalry, Ladies and Literature, Courtly Love and
Reality
The ideal upper-class lady in romantic medieval
literature is the beloved who inspires chivalry and is worshipped. In fiction
her slightest command is obeyed without question and heroic deeds by a knight
errant are performed in her name, even if his love is not reciprocated. Reinmar
von Hagenau ‘s lyric captures the nature of courtly love.
I wish to be known my entire life as a master of one thing and one thing
only.
I seek the world’s praise for this one skill,
That no man can bear his suffering as beautifully as I.
If a woman causes me pain to such an extent that I cannot remain silent
day or night,
I have so gentle a spirit that
I’ll accept her hate as a source of joy.
And yet, alas, how deeply that discomforts me.
In reality, and in accordance with medieval law and
society, a lady wielded authority as a wife and mother in domestic affairs and
took charge while her husband was away.
Maidens, Wives, Spinsters, Widows and Nuns
During the medieval era men classified women as
maidens, wives, widows, or nuns. During childhood maidens were subject to their
fathers, stepfathers or guardians who maintained them. Married women were
controlled by their husbands and were denied the right to refuse intercourse.
Without their husbands’ agreement, they were not permitted to borrow money,
sell property, or make a will. Noblewomen received as much respect as noblemen.
Yet because Eve persuaded Adam to taste the forbidden fruit and they were cast
out of paradise, men considered females physically, intellectually, and morally
inferior. Nuns, the brides of Christ, depended on the Church. Only spinsters, a
rarity, and widows enjoyed some independence.
Education, Betrothal, Marriage and Motherhood.
Nobly born children were taught to read and write
French, the language of educated people, to figure, embroider, dance, sing and
play musical instruments. They were trained to be dignified, meek and modest
and not to laugh loudly. Many girls were betrothed in their infancy and wedded when
they were twelve. Most marriages were not consummated until the girls were
fourteen. In an age when many people died early, teenage pregnancies were
encouraged. Most ladies married by their sixteenth birthday. In their
mid-twenties, if they had not died, they had given birth to five or six
children, some of whom did not survive.
http://bookswelove.net/authors/morris-rosemary
Thursday, February 4, 2021
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Wednesday, February 3, 2021
A Miserly Fellow by Katherine Pym
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Buy Here |
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London Bridge in its hay-day |
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Precarious location but folks could fish from the lower level |
This is a notorious story of early London, humorous if not a little sad. I used a portion of this in my novel Highwayman which produced a snicker or two from my readers.
IN the 12th century, John Overs rented ferries that traversed the River Thames. He was as stingy as they came, except he allowed his daughter a fine education which must have drawn heavy coins from his purse.
John rivaled the richest Alderman of London/Southwark when it came to his income, yet what he wore and where he lived were deemed quite miserable. He refused to provide a dowry for his daughter when she came of age, even as a handsome fellow wooed her and was successful in gaining her adoration. All this took place behind John Overs’ back.
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Southwark Side of London Bridge |
He constructed a unique way to save money, even as his daughter balked at the plan. But being a good daughter, she went along with it.
John Overs’ unique plan devised his own death. He reckoned his servants would fast for 24 hours and pray over him during this time, thus saving food and ale in his larder.
Unexpectedly, his servants raided his stores and struck up the lute. They partied, gobbled up his food, all the while sang and danced. Only a servant girl—here’s where the story gets muddled. Some say a maid, others a young man—stood near the body, watching for a specter to rise, which she would tend to with an iron wrought skillet.
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More of London Bridge in its prime |
John Overs listened to this until he was rigid with anger. “Stirring and struggling in his sheet, like a ghost with a candle in each hand, he rose up to berate them for their boldness, but when the maid saw this, she thought the devil rose in her master’s likeness.” She took the skillet in hand—here’s another anomaly. The below source states a young man grabbed hole of an oar, but why would John Overs have an oar in his bedroom?—and bashed poor John Overs over the head, “actually struck out his brains.”
John Overs fell back onto the bed, dead as a knob, his face showing surprise at the outcome of his own parsimonious.
“The estate then became that of his daughter, and her lover, on hearing of this, hastened up from the country, but on hurrying to lay his hands on the fortune, rode too speedily; his horse stumbled, and he broke his neck on the highway.”
Downtrodden by two successive deaths Mary Overs handed over a goodly sum of money to have her father interred in a nearby church, but being excommunicated from the church for his extortion and usury, the Abbot did not allow this. His body was dug up and flung onto an ass, which “proceeded with a gentle and solemn pace through Kent street and along the highway to the small pond once called Thomas-a-Waterings, at that time the common place of execution, and shook the Ferryman’s body off, directly under the gibbet, where it was put into the ground without any kind of ceremony.”
Mary Overs could not overcome these troubles and went into a nunnery, donating a majority of her father’s wealth to build a church, St. Mary Overy’s. Shortly after this, she died and was buried in the church her father’s penury produced.
The end.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Many thanks to: The Gruesome History of Old London Bridge by Geoffrey Abbot. Eric Dobby Publishing Ltd, 2008, Kent, UK.
Tuesday, February 2, 2021
Meet Aunt Beatrice Lulu
I’m Beatrice Lulu Eberhardt. Some of you know me from my niece, Callie Johnson. Callie’s the police chief of our little town, and I first appeared in her book, All in the Family.
Callie’s my favorite niece, but she doesn’t know it. I’ve annoyed her sometimes because I tried to fix her up with a nice young man, well several nice young men, over the years. I didn’t want her ending up an old maid like I almost was. I say almost because Ed came along and saved me that fate – I shudder to think what my life would have been like without him.
Callie didn’t care for any of the men I introduced her to. Picky little thing in my opinion. Praise God, she finally met a nice young man on her own.
But that’s neither here nor there. This story isn’t about Callie. It’s about me.
That’s right, ME, and pretty much no one else. I consider myself a bit of a sleuth. Some call me nosy or a busy body, but honestly, I’m only trying to help. I don’t mean to interfere. I can’t help if I have a curious nature. I’ve always been that way but got worse as I got older.
It actually all started when Ed and I bought a cabin. It’s a beautiful place with its own lake because Ed loves to fish. We thought it would be fun to have a place just for us, away from everyone. You may not remember I’m from a large, crazy family. Crazy in a fun-loving way, of course. So Ed and I wanted a place to relax away from it all, not that it’s turned out that way. We’re seldom alone. Guess it’s because we genuinely like people.
So nowadays when we go up there, someone always comes along. Usually Ethel and her husband, Greg. Ethel’s my sister, by the way. I have two other sisters, also – Charlotte, we call her Lottie, and Lillian. Lillian is Callie’s mother, and not as much fun as the rest of us. We also have a brother, Clyde, but we don’t see him as often.
Anyway, we bought the cabin, and Ed and I went up there to clean it up. No one had been in it for years. Cobwebs filled more than the corners, I’ll tell you that. It was going to take days, if not weeks, to clean it. But Ed promised we could fix it up and Ed never breaks a promise. That’s one of the things I love about him.
So there we were looking around, figuring out what to do, and Ed decided to build a fire to take the chill and damp out of the air. The place smelled musty, the way empty houses smell after being locked up for a long time.
So, there I was, thinking about where to start when I heard a strange clattering noise. I thought Ed fell or something. I turned around and lying on the fireplace hearth was an arm – well what was left of the arm, bones and tattered flannel from a shirt, I assume.
Although I’ve been told never to assume anything.
If you want to know what happens next you’ll have to read about it in All’s Well That Ends Well published by BWL Publishing.
If you haven’t read All in the Family – Book 1 of the Family Affair series, you can find it and all my books at Books We Love. Just click on the book and it’ll take you to the buy page.
Going Off Script (Part 1) by Diane Bator
I've worked in theatre for over 4 years now and have met some amazing performers. I have also often thought of writing a script. I mean I've written a lot of books so how hard could it be? Last year, I actually started to write two plays but set them aside because of timing. Not many play performances going on.
Enter 2021.
January 4, I attended a virtual Write In and the leader of the group is a playwright. Cool.
January 6, my boss who is the Artistic Director in our theatre, asks if I've done any more with those scripts I started what seems like 10 years ago... We set up a meeting.
January 11, I get an email about a workshop with a playwrite whose work I admire. I sign up instantly. It seems this New Year isn't content with all the edits I'm currently doing. There is more to pile on my plate!
I have one thing going for me in the script department. I've always been better at dialogue than detail. I'm not ashamed to admit it takes several edits to add in a little extra oomph to my novels. Take All That Shines, book 2 in my Glitter Bay Mysteries that I am currently editing. My lovely beta reader asks, "How big is this room? That's a lot of stuff inside. Maybe you need to rethink this."
One thing with writing for stage: you have limited space where you can place your furniture, props, and performers. With novels, you can use the entire world--or even other worlds--to move things around at your leisure and whim.
Something both plays and novels do have in common is the basic 3 Act Layout. They both have a beginning, a middle, and an end. Both need to have more than one storyline going on to keep the audience/reader's interest. Both also need to keep the action moving along. No lulls allowed.
With playwriting and plays in general, one thing to be kept in mind is how superstitous theatre people are. For example:
- Never ever say the work MacBeth in a theatre. It is that Scottish play. If anyone does say it, they should exit the theatre, spin around in a circle three times, and spit.
- No live flowers on stage.
- Whistling backstage is a jinx.
- Peacock feathers onstage are bad luck.
- Say "break a leg" instead of "good luck.
- Mirrors onstage are bad luck.
- Always turn on a ghostlight before leaving the theatre.
Diane Bator
https://www.bookswelove.com/bator-diane/

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