YOU CAN'T ESCAPE THEM - DEATH, SEX AND TAXES - MARGARET TANNER

SEX, DEATH AND TAXES – MARGARET TANNER

Everyone has to pay taxes; no government on earth is going to let their citizens get away without paying taxes. Taxes on your salary, business tax, death taxes, you name it, they will tax it. Even the humble hamburger doesn't escape the clutches of the tax man.

In romance novels, we don’t talk about taxes. I don’t recall ever having read anything about tax collection.

Sex – yes in all its forms, sweet and tender, just a kiss or two. Hot and spicy, no shutting the bedroom door here, and the really hot stuff that Margaret Tanner doesn’t write. I do commend the talented authors who do, and pull it off so successfully in their erotic romances.

Death – In novels, I consider death to be a great tool in creating emotion and upping the drama. I don’t mean having the hero and heroine die, but the villains and secondary characters. Of course, near death experiences for heroes or heroines is always good.

I have been thinking about this in regards to my stories. I write historical fiction with romantic elements, so death is probably easier to include in these stories. Harder to justify in contemporary romance, unless it is some villain who is hell bent on harming the heroine and to save her life, he has to go.

In bygone days, death in childbirth was quite common. People died of snakebite/disease/illness because they were miles from medical assistance or could not afford to pay for it. Bank robbers, stage coach robbers, cattle rustlers etc. the sheriff could quite legitimately shoot these criminals down without fear of reprisal from their peers, or condemnation from the public.

In war, on the field of battle, soldiers die or are wounded, so we happily accept this in historical romance. We probably shed a tear or two for the gallant warrior and the staunch heroine who waits in vain for him to return. We wouldn’t throw the book against the wall because of this. We just sigh with contentment when another dashing soldier rides into the life of our heroine and she finally gets her happily ever after ending.

I have to confess that in all my novels there is some sex of the medium to hot variety and someone must die. Never a main character, of course, but someone invariably has to go, usually a baddie, but not always so.

As for taxes, I never mention the word in my novels unless it is to say – the heat became very taxing.

My Links:

http://www.margarettanner.com/

http://bookswelove.net/authors/tanner-margaret/

My novel, Falsely Accused, published by Books We Love, has recently won the Historical Section of the Easy Chair Writing Competition. Yes, there is a death or two in this story, but hey, the 1820’s were wild and violent days in a young colony.

 

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00LEXEVES

 

Shirley Martin on Celtic Celebrations

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Before writing my fantasy romance, "Night Secrets," (Book 1 of the Avador series), I knew I needed to give my novel its own culture, its own civilization. The ancient Celts have long fascinated me, so I gave my fantasy a Celtic flavor, with my own variations. To describe the Celtic culture would take a book in itself, so here I've centered only on their festivals.

Celtic festivals weren't connected to equinoxes or solstices but were related to the fertility of the land. The four seasonal festivals reflect the pastoral and agricultural cycles of the year. Another way these festivals differed from more modern celebrations was that they began on the eve of the specific day of celebration. The Celts measured time by the moon.  In all of their calculations, night preceded day. In their festivals, we find traces not only of religious beliefs but also of a magical belief in things.

Samhain marked the beginning of the Celtic year and began on the night of October 31. (Guess what holiday we've derived from Samhain.)  On Samhain, the veil between the real world and the Otherworld was torn aside.  The sidhe--fairy mounds where the people of the Otherworld lived--opened, and spirits walked the land. The sidhe released phantoms and goblins to ride the night winds. The warrior dead came back to life, and bonfires were lit to guide the returning warriors. Gods and demons walked the night places, and humans knew to stay inside. A harvest festival, Samhain is the best-known Celtic celebration of all. (Although it's not part of the Avador series, my fantasy romance, "The Sacrifice, is based on this holy eve.)

Imgolg (or Imbolc) was a fertility festival celebrated on the first of February. It marked the beginning of spring. As believers of magic, the Celts brought divination and watching omens to this celebration. They lit candles and bonfires if the weather permitted.  Fire and purification played a prominent part in this festival. The Celts visited holy wells on this day where they prayed for health.

In more recent times, Imgolc has become a holy day honoring St. Brigid. Before going to bed, people left clothing and bits of cloth outside for Brigid to bless. In the morning, they brought the strips of cloth inside, now believed to have powers of healing and protection.

The Celts also believed that on Imbolg the Cailleach--divine hag--gathers her firewood for the rest of winter.

Beltane is the Celtic May Day festival and marked the beginning of summer, a time when cattle were driven out to pasture. As with Samhain, the people lit bonfires at night and walked around the fire; some even leaped over the fire.  People doused  household fires and relit them at the Beltane bonfire. A great feast that featured lamb accompanied these gatherings.  As a festival of life,decorations of yellow flowers--symbolizing sunlight--abounded, even on cattle. 

Some people say the bonfire was an attempt to mimic the sun and to ensure a plentiful supply of sunshine for the people, animals, and plants. In some places people took oatmeal cakes, a bit of which was offered to the spirits to protect their livestorck.

If tales are to believed, Beltane often became a riotous affair, where not only fire but romances were kindled.

Lughnasad was celebrated on August 1. Some say the god Lugh started the festival in honor of his mother. It marked the beginning of the harvest season. Often animals were sacrificed, the victims placed in baskets and thrown into the bonfire. The Celts held the concept of the vegetation or tree spirit that had the power over rain, sunshine and every means of fruitfulness. A tree held a prominent place in this festival, where tree branches were attached to houses to impart fertility.

This festival, too, involved great gatherings that included religious ceremonies, ritual athletic contests, feasting, and as with Beltane, matchmaking.

A Vivid Dream by Eleanor Stem

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Princess in the Woods

When I was young, probably nine or ten, I had a wild dream that spooks me to this day. It was winter, and dark outside. We lived in this small house I want to call a dacha (a country house or cottage in Russia). It had two rooms: a larger common area with a hearth, table and chairs, and a sleeping chamber, much smaller. The sleeping area was a series of platforms tacked to the wall, one above the other almost to the ceiling. We kids slept on the higher platforms, the adults on the lower.

No adults were at home. I must have been the eldest, and was in charge of some other children. 

A fierce storm raged outside. It had come up quickly, and did not give me time to close the shutters. I would have to go outside, but I was afraid I’d get lost in the driving snow that pricked your skin like needles.

The winter had dragged on for weeks, one storm after the other. Food was scarce. Wolves that normally howled at night, started doing it in the daytime. As the winter progressed they became more aggressive. Horses, dogs, and sheep were vulnerable. Wolves attacked people in their sleighs. They'd run up from behind, pull people off, and devour them on the icy road.

Tonight, with the adults gone, the shutters that slammed in the winds, the wolves became reckless, crazed in their hunger. They smashed in the windows of the front room. I pulled the children into the sleeping chamber and shut the door. Wolves surrounded the little house, ten or twenty, piled against the outside windows, growling, snapping their teeth.

Man attacked by wolves

Those inside slammed against the bedchamber door. In a panic, everyone screaming, we climbed from one sleeping shelf to the next, higher, toward the ceiling.

The windows burst with wolves. The door latch broke. Wolves jumped up against our climb to the higher sleeping levels. They were relentless, would not go away. Their fur brushed against my legs. They spewed vile odors from their snapping jaws, wild with bloodlust. We huddled together on the top shelf nearest the ceiling while the wolves snarled and fought each other. They climbed over themselves in an attempt to reach us, their eyes flashing with hunger. 

I awoke, filled with terror, shaking, and glad I was where I was, not in a small Russian cottage during a terrible winter. Needless to say, I’ve never liked really big dogs, like German Shepherds. I’d walk a mile out of the way to avoid one.

Do dreams have meaning? Where did this vivid scene come from? I was young, innocent. After years of thinking about this, I believe it was a memory from a past life, a memory that bled into this life. A not-so-good past life.

Scary Moment

I want to thank Wikicommons Public Domain for these pictures.