RANT - Take Care When Buying Books

Our family had a very musical weekend. On Friday night we drove to Deland, where we were thrilled by an evening of the Stetson Concert Band, an absolutely superb group of young musicians. My middle grandgirl, Riley, is one of three euphonium players and, alas, always hidden in the back where we can't see her. But here's my pic of the band in the beautiful Stetson performance hall. 

And on Sunday night I drove in the opposite direction, all the way down to Girl Scout Headquarters in Orlando where The Citrus Singers were giving a concert for parents, followed by pizza and potluck salads. (I made my Everything-but-the-kitchen-sink Salad.*) The girls were superb. Impossible as it seems, I swear they get better every year. There was also a very special event. Every year the Cure Bowl football game, which raises money for healthcare, is played in Orlando. And Sunday night a representative of the Cure Bowl, the Cure Bowl mascot, and a videographer, came to GS HQ to thank The Citrus Singers for TEN years of singing the National Anthem before the game. Nearly everyone posed for a picture with the charming Cure Bowl Bear. 

*Recipe next blog

Below, Mike, Riley, and Susie with the Cure Bowl Bear. Mike is the sound tech for the CS's performances. Riley, who was in the Citrus Singers from the very beginning, was called in to substitute for a girl who was sick. Susie, of course, is the long-time director the group.

Citrus Singers, Cure Bowl Rep & Mascot

 

Mike, Mascot, Riley, Susie

 

Even the Grammas got into the act

~ * ~

 

TAKE CARE WHEN BUYING BOOKS

I have been buying books for my Kindle since 2011. No complaints. Yes, sometimes when trying out a new author, I'd find their style just wasn't for me, and I usually sent the book to Archives well before I finished it. But recently, instead of carefully reading the blurb for a possible buy, I allowed myself to be led astray by the initial ad on Facebook, which features no more than the cover and a glowing review line. (Yes, if you click on the ad, you get the entire blurb, and I did that, but . . .)

Notes added after writing original paragraph above:

1.  When I clicked on a Facebook ad this morning, instead of a blurb, I got an excerpt which immediately told me this was a book written for the middle school/youth market and, in this case, not my cup of tea. But there was no doubt an excerpt was far more helpful than a hot review or a  blurb in making my decision. 

2.  A FB ad for a book on a similar theme caught my eye, but after several previous negative experiences (see below), I dithered for days over whether or not to try it. I re-read the blurb, came close to passing it by, then said, "Oh, what the heck" and ordered the download. And wow! By page two my eyes were popping. I had actually discovered a gifted author writing in a genre I enjoyed. I mean, an author who could craft sentences that ranked right up there with the best. Oh joy! 

Which, of course, means that when trying a new-to-you author, you never know what you're going to get. My warning stands. Do not be blinded by the hyperbole in those gleaming social media ads. Here is what happened to me before I found the one gem amid the dross:

MYSTERY. I bought a mystery with a rave review, only to discover that although the detectives were clever, the plot acceptable, the setting well done, the story fell into a sub-genre of Mystery in which I have absolutely no interest. I finished the book, but I was bored, bored, bored.   

ADVENTURE.  Very well written—if you like non-stop derring-do, over-the-top violence, grisly death. And a plot that was tortured to the point of nonsensical. I finished the book, but with more-than-a-few stops for a gargoyle grimace. Sorry, not my cup of tea.

REGENCY.  After more than a quarter century writing Regency-set novels, I tend to stick to authors I know can be relied upon to get the era "right." Then again, as someone who has judged Regency contests and edited other people's Regency novels, I feel obligated to try out newcomers to the market. And two ads caught my eye. Except—oh, horrors . . .

Book One had everything right—characters, plot, setting, history of the period, but it was simplistic to the point of making me squirm. It was written to elementary school reading level, which included little use of Regency vocabulary and the lengthy sentences Regency aficionados so enjoy. I did, however, finish the book while making a mental note not to buy any more Regencies in this vein. 

Book Two—where do I begin? Book Two had everything wrong. A dozen times, I almost threw up my hands and called it quits, but I kept reading just to discover what egregious faux pas came next. What kinds of faux pas? you ask.

The least offensive - Americanisms galore, plus "Tell" instead of "Show, ("Show, don't Tell" being one of the basic rules every author must learn, particularly Romance authors.)

More troubling - a plot that shattered "suspended disbelief" into a thousand shards. From every viewpoint, unacceptable. With no understanding of the manners and customs of the time.  

Worst of all - a complete lack of understanding of the period; the author's sole research, apparently, viewing Bridgerton.

I hasten to say, I enjoyed Bridgerton, as I think many Regency authors did, because we see it for the fantasy it is. We enjoy it as a fairytale, while recognizing that, outside of the costumes, settings, and well-drawn characters, it is a wholly inaccurate depiction of the Regency era. FANTASY, not FACT. Even the "real" characters are not portrayed correctly. No one—repeat, NO ONE—should use Bridgerton as an accurate portrayal of the Regency era. It just ain't so!

I understand that those who came to the Regency solely through episodes of Bridgerton will not be bothered by the lack of authenticity, but long-time aficionados of the Regency period demand authentic ambiance:  proper vocabulary, correct history, an accurate depiction of the manners and mores of the time, and portrayals of the non-fictional characters in the book that do not violate who those people actually were.

Grace note:   Clearly, I feel strongly about getting the Regency era "right." But after devoting many, many hours to research before and during the time I wrote umpteen books set in that period, I am offended when an author uses Regency fantasy instead of fact as a setting for his/her book. (Oh, all right, I admit an agent once turned me down because I was aiming my books at the "top two percent of readers." Which is likely true. Sigh.)

Okay, rant over. I'll get down from my hobby-horse and let you look forward to the next season of Bridgerton. 

~ * ~ 

This week's featured book—my very first Regency for Signet. I still remember where I was standing in the kitchen of my house in Venice, FL, while talking to the editor. Wow!

Originally published in 2003 under the highly inaccurate title of The Indifferent Earl, because Signet's marketing department didn't think The Courtesan's Letters would play well in the hinterland! When I got my rights back c. 2011, I made sure the e-version reverted to the original title.

 Miss Abigail Todd, the very proper headmistress of an academy for young ladies in Boston, arrives in England to settle her grandmother’s estate, only to discover that her ancestor was la grande Clarisse, the most notorious courtesan of her day. And, to her even greater horror, she herself is the perfect image of her grandmother. Clarisse has left a series of letters detailing commissions Abby must carry out in order to obtain her inheritance (an amount far greater than anticipated). In order to do this, she must accept the assistance of Jared, Earl of Langley, grandson of the man who was Clarisse’s devoted lover for forty years. Has Clarisse created these letters because of love, nostalgia, mischief, vengeance . . . or is she perhaps more interested in matchmaking? The most likely answer: all of the above.

Author’s Note: The Courtesan’s Letters is suitable reading for Ages 14 & up. Under the Signet title of “The Indifferent Earl,” it was nominated for a RITA award by the Romance Writers of America and was awarded “Regency Romance of the Year” by Romantic Times magazine.

Reviews:

"This story flows like fine champagne, full of sparkle, zest and energy."
Teresa Roebuck, Romantic Times

"The dialogue sparkles, the plot evolves at a brisk pace, and a diverse cast of secondary characters adds depth and texture to this well-written tale."
Susan Lantz, Romance Reviews Today

"I was completely and utterly seduced by this book. . . . The plot is exquisite, a sparklingly innovative, perfectly executed piece of craftsmanship. . . . It is books like this that restore our faith in the Regency genre. . . ."
Celia Merenyi, A Romance Review  

~ * ~

For a link to Blair's website, click here. 

For Blair's Facebook Author Page, click here.*

 

For recent blogs, scroll down. For Archives, see the menu on the right.

 

Thanks for stopping by,

Grace (Blair Bancroft)  

     

A Cautionary Tale, Part 2

 

 The very clever map below was found on Facebook. Hats off to whoever came up with this one. (Please note the Cancun area is marked "Gulf of Little Beaches." I believe the suggested name of the gulf just south of New Orleans comes under "universal language.")

 

 With all three girls off to college, Susie (no longer blonde) and Mike

 had to get a friend to take this year's Valentine photo.

 A Cautionary Tale, Part 2*

or

How Not to Drive the Grandchildren Home 

from the Singing Christmas Trees, Part 2

 

*slightly revised from original version posted in 2011                        

At the end of Part 1, you may recall, all seemed to be well.  The three little girls and I had finally arrived home (one hour after leaving the church - on what should have been no more than a 30-min. drive).  We ate supper and were watching a movie when . . .

Mommy turned her phone back on and called to say that the concert was running longer than expected and could I please take the children home and put them to bed.  I was still nerve-wracked to the bone, but food had helped, so I only twinged slightly at the thought of putting the girls back in the car and driving three blocks.

I loaded everyone back into the SUV and arrived at their gated community a few minutes later.  I reached for the gate clicker I assumed was on the visor, and . . . oh-oh.   No, the girls didn’t know where mama stashed the clicker, but they assured me I could punch in a code.  Alas, I had to tell them that the code only worked until six p.m.  After that, you have to have a clicker or someone has to be at the house to buzz you in.  ( I recalled one memorable evening when my son-in-law climbed the gate, all eight feet of it, at 1:00 a.m.)

“We can go in your car, Gramma,” said one of the girls.  (They knew I had a gate-clicker on my car.) So we turned around and headed back to my house.  But as I drove toward my house, it occurred to me that if we were in my car, we wouldn’t have the built-in garage-door opener on the SUV.  Without which I’d need a key to my daughter’s house.  And it seems that I no sooner have a key made than my daughter sends someone to borrow it.  So if I drove the girls home in my car, we could get through the gate but might not be able to get into the house.  

Believe me, at this point if I hadn’t already decided I had a few thousands words to say to my daughter when she got home, this would have been the final straw.

We pulled into my driveway and the 6-year-old said, “Gramma, why don’t you just get the clicker from your car?”  I sat there behind the wheel and gaped.  Out of the mouths of babes!  (No transferring all three from car seats in the SUV to the car seats in mine.) Wow! Entering the house problem solved as well! I parked in my driveway, told the girls to stay put, went into my house, around to the garage and pulled the gate clicker off my visor. Eureka! Back we went to my daughter’s house.  Didn’t need the garage opener, after all, as the 7-year-old was gung-ho to try every key on my ring to see if she could open the front door.  Which she did while the rest of us stayed in the car and watched.  

She yelled for us to come in, and then proceeded to turn on the Christmas tree and the many other Christmas lights throughout the house so I could see them.  Special moment after all we’d been through.

When my daughter and her husband finally got home, the girls were in bed, their halos still shiny, and I laid out the whole tale, woe by woe.  My daughter looked at me and said, “Oh, I’ve been using the hand brake because the car keeps getting stuck in Park.”  Not that she’d told me that any more than she mentioned there was no gas.  I had, of course, been putting the car in Park all night.  Sigh.    

I’m not sure I’m going to the Singing Trees next year.  The memories of 2010 may haunt me forever.

~ * ~

 Sad Note:  The First Baptist Church's Singing Christmas Trees was a marvel—one year they had a real live camel!—but Covid shut it down (all those singers packed shoulder to shoulder on two towering Christmas trees).  As far as I know, the tradition has not been revived. 

Update on the Grandchildren:

The 7-year-old is closing in on a degree in Astro Engineering from UCF, with her eye on a job on the Space Coast.

The 6-year-old is on full scholarship to Stetson, though she asserts it was not her all As in high school, but her skill on the euphonium that won her the free ride.

The 4-year-old is at Florida Technical Institute, continuing both studies and flight training in her goal to be a commercial pilot.

~ * ~

 This Week's Featured Book:

 Regency England meets Peru.

 Miss Madeline Lacey—world traveler and spinster—is a far cry from the other young ladies making their debut in London society. But instead of wilting into an aging wallflower, she attracts the attention of a wealthy country gentleman and a newly made rough-around-the-edges earl. Except one lacks an adventurous spirit and the other is allegedly betrothed to the daughter of a marquess. And then there is the problem of what to do with the many artifacts Miss Lacey's father accumulated during eighteen years of exploration, as well as the deep, dark secret that Miss Lacey is not as penniless as society assumes. Disaster looms as sheer stubbornness on the part of both hero and heroine threatens the possibility of Happily Ever After.

~ * ~

For a link to Blair's website, click here. 

For Blair's Facebook Author Page, click here.*

 

For recent blogs, scroll down. For Archives, see the menu on the right.

 

Thanks for stopping by,

 Grace (Blair Bancroft)  

A Cautionary Tale, Part 1

 

 

Photo by Ann Kone out her window in Brooklyn, NY, early February 2025

 

The grandgirls around the age they were in story below

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bridesmaids at their babysitter's wedding, 10 years later

I began Grace's Mosaic Moments in January 2011 with a 2-part blog about something I had experienced only a few weeks earlier. The story—true in every detail—is the epitome of how what should have been a simple act was compounded by a series of minor incidents into a Perfect Storm of Aggravation and Grandmotherly Distress. I mean, all I was supposed to do was drive my three grandgirls home from a Christmas program at First Baptist Church in Orlando (on the west side of Orlando when we lived on the east side).

Uh, huh . . .  

Even if you've read this before, you might want to look again and be reminded how easy it is for things to go wrong, particularly if you are responsible for children or grandchildren. 

Below, please find A Cautionary Tale, Part 1:

 My daughter is a blonde.  She is also CEO of a Real Estate Investment company.  This does not mean she does not have blonde moments.  

Each Christmas my daughter and her husband take the extended family (about fifteen relatives and employees) to First Baptist Orlando’s Singing Christmas Trees, a truly superb presentation in a church that seats about 5000.  This year, my son-in-law also bought tickets on the same night for a concert in downtown Orlando. So it was arranged that I would drive their three girls, ages 4, 6 & 7, home in my daughter's SUV, while she and her husband drove directly to the concert in downtown Orlando. Sounds simple, right? I even had help from others in the group to get all three little ones into my daughter’s SUV through the crush of 5000 people attempting to leave at the same time.  So far, so good.  

By the time the girls were settled into their seat belts, there weren’t many cars left in the lot.  I buckled up, started the engine . . . and the car didn’t move.  I tried again.  No movement.  My daughter had set the hand brake in flat-as-a-pancake Florida?  I looked where the hand brake is on my car.  Nothing.  I looked where the brake was on my old car.  Nothing.  It was, by the way, nearly pitch black in the parking lot.  The 7-year-old put on the overhead light for me, but I still couldn’t see any hand brake.  

I got out of the car and called to the one couple still walking toward their car.  They kindly came over, but they too could not find the hand brake.  By this time people were getting into the car in front of me.  We had a five-way consultation, the two couples and I, and the husband of the new couple gave it a try.  Took him about ten seconds, while the rest of us stood by, red-faced.  I like to think he was more familiar with a Honda SUV than I was. With profuse thanks to all, I climbed in.  At last we could go home.

Figuring the couple who had been parked in front of me knew the way out better than I did, I followed them.   Which took us out a different way than we’d come in.  (Oops.)  No problem, just turn right and right and . . . except in all the traffic I ended up in a Left Turn Only lane.  (Double oops.)  After two or three blocks I figured I’d better make another right and right and hopefully end up on the road I should have been on in the first place.  Except . . .

We were instantly in a residential area, and that’s when I had time to glance at the dashboard and notice the Gas Light was on.  Houses, houses everywhere, and not a sign of a thoroughfare with a gas station.  And at that dire point, the 7-year-old said, “Gramma, do you know where we are?”

Uh, no.  But of course I didn’t say so.  I just kept doubling back until I saw—oh, joy—a stoplight.  And at the intersection, a GAS STATION.  Before pulling up to the pump, I tried calling both my daughter and my son-in-law.  I was not happy!  Lucky them, their phones were off.  They were enjoying their concert at the new Amway Arena.

The children, fortunately, knew which side the gas tank was on, so we managed to pull up with the pump on the correct side.  I popped out, stuck in my credit card, and the silly machine wanted to know if it was a debit card.  When I said no, it cancelled the transaction.  I tried again.  Same result.  To say my blood pressure was soaring would be putting it mildly.  There I was with three small children in the car, and I had to go INSIDE.  Fortunately, we were right in front of the door.  I told the children to stay put and dashed inside, where the attendant managed the transaction while I kept looking out the glass door.  

Put ten dollars worth of gas in my daughter’s car and headed out, the children completely angelic or I might have lost myself along with the car.  We did a couple more turns, looking for lots of lights signaling a major road.  And there it was.  Kirkman, the road that runs past Universal Studios.  I was so turned around by this time that I simply chose a direction, knowing either north or south would lead me to a major east-west road that would take us home.  And, sure enough, in less than a mile there it was, the 408, Orlando’s East-West Expressway.  Yay, hurray!

But, no, this isn’t the end of the story.  The night’s “annoyances” will be continued in my next post on Friday, January 21, 2011.

~ * ~

Featured Book:

The so-called Hero in Menace at Lincourt Manor is possibly the least likable of all my main male characters. Descended from an aristocracy older than England's, he tends to be overly arrogant, oblivious to his wife's needs, possibly even uncaring. I am happy to say he manages to redeem himself, but it's touch and go 'til it's almost too late.

 Violet Larrabee, a merchant's daughter born in India, achieves her greatest dream, marrying the man she has loved since childhood (the great-grandson of a Bengali rajah), only to have her world plunge into a succession of nightmares. Abandoned by an all-too-busy husband, she must cope with a dilapidated house, hostile servants, and a succession of escalating events that culminate in multiple murders. Murders that might possibly have been committed by her husband.

Violet faces her problems with courage and determination, seldom faltering as she proves herself far from the shy, shrinking flower for which she was named. Until, with the solution to her problems almost at hand, a dramatic stumble nearly puts an end to her life and all possibility of Happily Ever After. 

~ * ~

For a link to Blair's website, click here. 

For Blair's Facebook Author Page, click here.*

 

For recent blogs, scroll down. For Archives, see the menu on the right.

 

Thanks for stopping by,

 Grace (Blair Bancroft)  

Need a Good Insult?

 

No Caption Needed

The absolutely brilliant photo below was taken in Pensacola by Dan Dunn during the record-setting snowfall in Florida's Panhandle (10"). Previous record:  4"
 

~ * ~

While searching through my personal files for a Choir file that needed updating, I ran across a title that made my eyes pop. It is likely something that turned up on Facebook, but so long ago I forgot I saved it. And as far as I can remember, I have never used it. But in these times when practically everyone I know is grinding his/her teeth—when it looks as if Democracy has been replaced by Dictatorship in less than ten days—we need a more unique way to express our displeasure. Well, here are some ways to do just that. (Sorry, no attribution given.)

INSULTS WORTH READING

                                  

These  insults are from an era “before” the English language got boiled down to 4-letter words.

 1. "He had delusions of adequacy ” Walter Kerr
 2. "He has all the virtues I dislike and none of the vices I admire.”- Winston Churchill
3. "I have never killed a man, but I have read many obituaries with great pleasure. - Clarence Darrow
4. "He has never been known to use a word that might send a reader to the dictionary.”-William Faulkner (about Ernest Hemingway)
5. "Poor Faulkner. Does he really think big emotions come from big words?"- Ernest Hemingway (about William Faulkner)
6. "Thank you for sending me a copy of your book; I'll waste no time reading it.” - Moses Hadas
7. "I didn't attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying I approved of it.” - Mark Twain
8. "He has no enemies, but is intensely disliked by his friends.” - Oscar Wilde
 9. "I am enclosing two tickets to the first night of my new play; bring a friend, if you have one.”   -George Bernard Shaw to Winston Churchill
10. "Cannot possibly attend first night, will attend second... if there is one.” - Winston Churchill, in response
11. "I feel so miserable without you; it's almost like having you here” - Stephen Bishop
12. "He is a self-made man and worships his creator.” - John Bright
13. "I've just learned about his illness. Let's hope it's nothing trivial.” - Irvin S. Cobb
 14. "He is not only dull himself; he is the cause of dullness in others.” - Samuel Johnson
 15. "He is simply a shiver looking for a spine to run up. -  Paul Keating
16. "He loves nature in spite of what it did to him.” - Forrest Tucker
17.  "Why do you sit there looking like an envelope without any address on it?” - Mark Twain
18. "His mother should have thrown him away and kept the stork.” - Mae West
19. "Some cause happiness wherever they go; others, whenever they go.” - Oscar Wilde
20. "He uses statistics as a drunken man uses lamp-posts... for support rather than illumination.” - Andrew Lang (1844-1912)
21. "He has Van Gogh's ear for music.” - Billy Wilder
22. "I've had a perfectly wonderful evening. But I'm afraid this wasn't it.” - Groucho Marx
23. The exchange between Winston Churchill & Lady Astor: She said, "If you were my husband I'd give you poison." He said, "If you were my wife, I'd drink it."
24. "He can compress the most words into the smallest idea of any man I know." - Abraham Lincoln
25. "There's nothing wrong with you that reincarnation won't cure." -- Jack E.  Leonard
26. "They never open their mouths without subtracting from the sum of human knowledge." --  Thomas Brackett Reed
27. "He inherited some good instincts from his Quaker forebears, but by diligent hard work, he overcame them." -- James Reston (about Richard Nixon)

~ * ~

Inside Info on Grace's (Blair Bancroft's)s latest book. 

As anyone who has read The Abandoned Daughter may have guessed, I grew very fond of the major who suffered from what we now call PTSD. So much so that I built on that character to create the hero of my next book. I was planning on another Gothic with multiple phantoms; in fact, my book sections are headed, Phantom 1, Phantom 2 . . . Except my reincarnation of Major Benedict Hawley refused to take back seat to a bunch of ethereal characters, no matter how long they might have been lurking in Lark House, Wiltshire, not far from Stonehenge. New title: The Stone Soldier and the Lady. (Nor is the lady a shy miss who kowtows to either ghosts or hardened spies.)

So, if you haven't yet read The Abandoned Daughter, a Mystery/Adventure/Romance set in Bath, you might want to check it out so you can appreciate the transformation of Major Benedict Hawley to British spy, Captain Hugh Fox.
 

 Isabelle Bainbridge—abandoned by her gamester father, leery of the young lord who claims he is rescuing her—is more than a little surprised to find herself employed as companion to his grandmother in Bath, who treats her more like a ward than an employee. A near idyllic situation, until Isabelle discovers a young woman's body floating in the Kennet & Avon canal—an alleged suicide—soon followed by a series of murders that shake the tranquility of the beautiful city known as a refuge for the elderly and infirm.
Although Isabelle is determined to despise her rescuer—the viscount who won her home in a game of cards—she is forced to rely on him as she is stalked and it becomes apparent she may be next on the killer's list. There are several surprises, as well as moments of terror, before this Gothic adventure finds its happy ending.

~ * ~

For a link to Blair's website, click here. 

For Blair's Facebook Author Page, click here.*

 

For recent blogs, scroll down. For Archives, see the menu on the right.

 

Thanks for stopping by,

Grace (Blair Bancroft)  

WRITING - Getting Started

 With all the negatives in the world lately, "fun" photos have been few and far between—so a few diverse choices from the "My Pictures" file . . .

From a birthday party in 2016, for which I made all the burlap bags of classic "bag races."

The reason my daughter hired an exterminator each time before they used their cottage along the Suwanee River. (I wonder what the new owners think of the resident wildlife—this was just one of many!) That web stretches between tree trunks; not branches, TRUNKS. Please note the trunks this web spans are not in the photo.

 

 

The remarkable things one can find when researching . . .

Map of the maze in Sydney Gardens, Bath (early 19th c.)

 ~ * ~

Below, one of the very first bits of advice on Writing, written "way back when" and available with a quantity of others on Writing & Editing in the Archives or organized and indexed in Making Magic With Words.

 

WRITING WORKSHOP 1 - Getting Started

 

"Where do you get your ideas?"

 How many times have you been asked that question? The answer is: "Everywhere." Ideas are all around you. Personal experiences, television, newspapers, movies, people on the street, a chance remark, a character or situation in a book that sets you to asking, "What if . . .?" Or perhaps you're building a whole new world from scratch. Let's face it, if you didn't have ideas, you wouldn't be attempting to write a book. BUT developing these ideas into a 400-page book is something else again.

 

Fresh Twist.

So what do you do with that germ of an idea? To sell in today's tough market, give it a fresh twist, something that will keep the reader turning pages instead of groaning over yet another version of same old-same old. Be innovative, not cookie-cutter. Grab that idea, find a way to make it fresh. For example, in Grave Intentions, Lori Sjoberg makes a hero of the Grim Reaper, going on to develop other male and female reapers in a series for Kensington.

 

Research.

At least three-quarters of you are groaning, thinking: "But I write Contemporary . . ." Nonetheless, you have research to do. You need to find out how to make your hero and heroine, the setting, and general ambiance of your book sound authentic. Whether it's Renaissance, Regency, police procedure, arson investigation, high finance, medical, or whatever—make sure you know what you're talking about.

 For example, what did I know about "the British Electoral System prior to the reforms of 1832" when I began the book now titled, A Gamble on Love? Absolutely nothing, of course. It took some heavy reading of books acquired for me by the Sarasota Library system via Interlibrary loan, but in the end I picked up some gems, tidbits that greatly enhanced the tale of a "cit" (a  man who works for a living) who horrifies his aristocratic bride when he runs for Parliament.

 But don't panic. Research doesn't have to be all "up front." You can dredge it up as you go along. (I certainly didn't read all those heavy tomes on the British Electoral system before I began to write.) But you absolutely must have enough knowledge by the time you do your final edit so that people who are experts on your book's subject don't throw your book against the wall by the end of the first chapter.

As an example of how easy it is to slip up, no matter how careful you think you're being:  when I was writing, The Harem Bride for Signet, I had the hero and heroine meet in Constantinople, at the home of the British Ambassador to the Ottoman Empire. I paused long enough to think about the problem of reality but considered it so unlikely I could discover the name of the actual ambassador at that time that I simply made up a name for this character and continued on.

 But in final editing before submitting the manuscript, I scowled at the name I'd invented and decided, well maybe, after all, I should check Google. To my shock, when I entered "British Ambassador, Ottoman Empire, 1803," page after page after page came scrolling up. Oops! It seems the ambassador was Lord Elgin, famed for boxing up many of the statues on the Acropolis, even to the extent of chipping off the friezes from the Parthenon, and shipping them back to England, where, some years later, they ended up in the British Museum. (I've seen them—they have a whole hall of their own.) To this day, Greece is trying to get them back.

After I finished gulping at how close I'd come to a major faux pas, I revised not only that scene but added references to Lord Elgin's struggles in getting the British Museum to buy his marbles. Moral of this story: check your facts. Don't end up with egg on your face.

~ * ~

For a link to Blair's website, click here. 

For Blair's Facebook Author Page, click here.*

 

For recent blogs, scroll down. For Archives, see the menu on the right.

 

Thanks for stopping by,

Grace (Blair Bancroft)