[HUMOR] The Beheading of Anne Balloon

"The beheading of Queen Anne Balloon" by Hans Heliumbein

When Swine Flew!

I just heard that there is a move to stop calling the Swine Flu the "Swine Flu". The concern is for pork ranchers.. and for Jewish and Muslim people who might find the oblique reference to pork offensive.

So what are they calling it now? Something that will either offend no one or just people who don't matter, I guess. People like... authors..?

Theywant to call it the Novel Flu I hear.

Novel Flu...

I demand a recount!

Now just see who freaks when novels stop selling...

- THE END -

Ile de Saint-Honorat Monastery Jigsaw Puzzle

Since the fifth century, the island has been home to a community of monks.

History

Fortified monastery of Abbey Lérins.
Church and monastery of the Lérins Abbey. Picture taken from the fortified monastery.The island, known to the Romans as Lerina, was uninhabited until Saint Honoratus founded a monastery on it at some time around the year 410. According to tradition, Honoratus made his home on the island intending to live as a hermit, but found himself joined by disciples (including Saint Caprais (Caprasius)) who formed a monastic community around him. This had become "an immense monastery" by 427, according to the contemporary writings of John Cassian.

The monastery provided three bishops for the See of Arles: Honoratius himself, followed by Hilarius and Cesarius in the fifth and sixth centuries respectively. Reputedly, Saint Patrick, patron of Ireland, studied at the monastery in the fifth century.

Over the following centuries, monastic life on the island was interrupted on several occasions by raids, mostly attributable to Saracens. Around 732, many of the community, including the abbot, Saint Porcarius, were massacred on the island by invaders. According to tradition, many of the monks escaped, because Porcarius had been warned of the attack by an angel and had sent them to safety.

In medieval times, the island became a very popular place of pilgrimage. This was encouraged by the writings of Raymond Féraud, a monk who composed a mythological life of Honoratus.

In 1635 the island was captured by the Spanish and the monks were expelled. They returned from exile in Vallauris two years later, when the island was retaken by the French.

The monastery continued to suffer from Spanish and Genoese attacks. The number of monks dwindled to four and, in the proto-revolutionary climate of the time, the monastery was disestablished in 1787. Under the Revolution, the island became the property of the state, and was sold to a wealthy actress, Mademoiselle de Sainval, who lived there for twenty years.

In 1859, the island was bought by the Bishop of Fréjus, who sought to re-establish a religious community there. Ten years later, a Cistercian community was established, and has remained there since.

Jigsaw ppuzzle by Jigzone. History entry excerpted from Wikipedia.

Medieval Irish Warriors

Of Wattle Walls, Cabbages and Thoughts on Nudity

Again I am ripping a page clean out of Susan Higginbotham's book and sharing some of the keywords with which people, intentionally or not, found their way to this blog.

"medieval vocabulary"

There were a few permutations of this one, including "middle ages vocabulary" and "medieval vocabulary for kids". I suppose my recent medieval vocabulary test drew these folks. Not so sure getting medieval on one's vocabulary is suitable for tender ears, however. I can just see it now...

Teacher: Philippa, please define "fundament".

"Edward II"

Odd. I thought I was the only person not writing about Edward II!

"medieval test pdf"

I honestly don't they had the technology to devise tests for Acrobat. Acrobats, mayrhap.

"Nan Hawthorne"

There is only one other I know of, and she is in Northern Ireland, so that's where to look if you meant the other one.

"thoughts on nudity"

Yes, I have many thoughts on that subject, almost all of them positive. Especially where Sean Bean is concerned.

"good marriage blog"

I have both. Not sure if that helps, though.

"how to pass 8th grade"

Probably by not attending a medieval monastic school.

"romantic 1916 rising songs"

Awww, someone after my own heart. Just don't blame me if you cry every time you hear "Grace" performed.

"middle ages characters"

They sure were, weren't they??!

"cabbage + metaphor"

The strange thing is that I actually did talk about a metaphor of Sharon Kay Penman's incolcing a cabbage...

"sex with a wall in the middle"

Oh my! What kind of wall? I suppose daub and wattle, with some of the daub missing.

The Poetry of the Easter Rising

Ninety-three years ago today in Dublin a group of idealists of various stripes banded together to try to end British rule in Ireland. They chose April 24th, which was Easter Monday, intentionally so there would be few people out on the streets when the gunfire erupted. They never suspected that the British would respond with long range guns, decimating much of central Dublin. In honor of these men and women who pitted themselves against the odds for their ideals, I will offer some words they and others wrote. It is easy to forget people like these were simple human beings with the same hopes, joys and sorrows as we.


Proclamation of Irish Freedom

POBLACHT NA H EIREANN

THE PROVISIONAL GOVERNMENT
OF THE IRISH REPUBLIC
TO THE PEOPLE OF IRELAND

IRISHMEN AND IRISHWOMEN: In the name of God and of the dead generations from which she receives her old tradition of nationhood, Ireland, through us, summons her children to her flag and strikes for her freedom.

Having organised and trained her manhood through her secret revolutionary organisation, the Irish Republican Brotherhood, and through her open military organisations, the Irish Volunteers and the Irish Citizen Army, having patiently perfected her discipline, having resolutely waited for the right moment to reveal itself, she now seizes that moment, and, supported by her exiled children in America and by gallant allies in Europe, but relying in the first on her own strength, she strikes in full confidence of victory.

We declare the right of the people of Ireland to the ownership of Ireland, and to the unfettered control of Irish destinies, to be sovereign and indefeasible. The long usurpation of that right by a foreign people and government has not extinguished the right, nor can it ever be extinguished except by the destruction of the Irish people. In every generation the Irish people have asserted their right to national freedom and sovereignty; six times during the last three hundred years they have asserted it to arms. Standing on that fundamental right and again asserting it in arms in the face of the world, we hereby proclaim the Irish Republic as a Sovereign Independent State, and we pledge our lives and the lives of our comrades-in-arms to the cause of its freedom, of its welfare, and of its exaltation among the nations.

The Irish Republic is entitled to, and hereby claims, the allegiance of every Irishman and Irishwoman. The Republic guarantees religious and civil liberty, equal rights and equal opportunities to all its citizens, and declares its resolve to pursue the happiness and prosperity of the whole nation and all of its parts, cherishing all of the children of the nation equally and oblivious of the differences carefully fostered by an alien government, which have divided a minority from the majority in the past.

Until our arms have brought the opportune moment for the establishment of a permanent National, representative of the whole people of Ireland and elected by the suffrages of all her men and women, the Provisional Government, hereby constituted, will administer the civil and military affairs of the Republic in trust for the people.

We place the cause of the Irish Republic under the protection of the Most High God. Whose blessing we invoke upon our arms, and we pray that no one who serves that cause will dishonour it by cowardice, in humanity, or rapine. In this supreme hour the Irish nation must, by its valour and discipline and by the readiness of its children to sacrifice themselves for the common good, prove itself worthy of the august destiny to which it is called.

Signed on Behalf of the Provisional Government.

Thomas J. Clarke,
Sean Mac Diarmada, Thomas MacDonagh,
P. H. Pearse, Eamonn Ceannt,
James Connolly, Joseph Plunkett

(See note at bottom of today's post.)

The Foggy Dew

As down the glen one Easter morn
To a city fair rode I,
There armed lines of marching men
In squadrons passed me by.
No pipe did hum, no battle drum
Did sound its loud tattoo
But the Angelus' bells o'er the Liffey swells
Rang out in the foggy dew.

Right proudly high in Dublin town
Hung they out a flag of war.
'Twas better to die 'neath an Irish sky
Than at Suvla or Sud el Bar.
And from the plains of Royal Meath
Strong men came hurrying through;
While Brittania's Huns with their long-range guns
Sailed in through the foggy dew.

The bravest fell, and the requiem bell
Rang mournfully and clear
For those who died that Easter-tide
In the springing of the year.
While the world did gaze with deep amaze
At those fearless men but few
Who bore the fight that freedom's light
Might shine through the foggy dew.

And back through the glen I rode again
And my heart with grief was sore
For I parted then with valiant men
Whom I never shall see more
But to and fro
In my dreams I go
And I kneel and pray for you
For slavery fled
Oh, glorious dead
When you fell in the foggy dew

James Connolly

Marchin' down O'Connell Street with the Starry Plough on high
There goes the Citizen Army with their fists raised in the sky
Leading them is a mighty man with a mad rage in his eye
"My name is James Connolly - I didn't come here to die

But to fight for the rights of the working man
And the small farmer too
Protect the proletariat from the bosses and their screws
So hold on to your rifles, boys, and don't give up your dream
Of a Republic for the workin' class, economic liberty"

Then Jem yelled out "Oh Citizens, this system is a curse
An English boss is a monster, an Irish one even worse
They'll never lock us out again and here's the reason why
My name is James Connolly, I didn't come here to die....."

And now we're in the GPO with the bullets whizzin' by
With Pearse and Sean McDermott biddin' each other goodbye
Up steps our citizen leader and roars out to the sky
"My name is James Connolly, I didn't come here to die...

Oh Lily, I don't want to die, we've got so much to live for
And I know we're all goin' out to get slaughtered, but I just can't take any more
Just the sight of one more child screamin' from hunger in a Dublin slum
Or his mother slavin' 14 hours a day for the scum
Who exploit her and take her youth and throw it on a factory floor
Oh Lily, I just can't take any more

They've locked us out, they've banned our unions, they even treat their animals better than us
No! It's far better to die like a man on your feet than to live forever like some slave on your knees, Lilly

But don't let them wrap any green flag around me
And for God's sake, don't let them bury me in some field full of harps and shamrocks
And whatever you do, don't let them make a martyr out of me
No! Rather raise the Starry Plough on high, sing a song of freedom
Here's to you, Lily, the rights of man and international revolution"

We fought them to a standstill while the flames lit up the sky
'Til a bullet pierced our leader and we gave up the fight
They shot him in Kilmainham jail but they'll never stop his cry
My name is James Connolly, I didn't come here to die...."

Grace

As we gather in the chapel here in old Kilmainham Jail
I think about these past few weeks, oh will they say we've failed?
From our school days they have told us we must yearn for liberty
Yet all I want in this dark place is to have you here with me

Oh Grace just hold me in your arms and let this moment linger
They'll take me out at dawn and I will die
With all my love I place this wedding ring upon your finger
There won't be time to share our love for we must say goodbye

Now I know it's hard for you my love to ever understand
The love I bare for these brave men, the love for my dear land
But when Pádraic called me to his side down in the GPO
I had to leave my own sick bed, to him I had to go

Oh, Grace just hold me in your arms and let this moment linger
They'll take me out at dawn and I will die
With all my love I'll place this wedding ring upon your finger
There won't be time to share our love for we must say goodbye

Now as the dawn is breaking, my heart is breaking too
On this May morn as I walk out, my thoughts will be of you
And I'll write some words upon the wall so everyone will know
I loved so much that I could see his blood upon the rose.

Oh, Grace just hold me in your arms and let this moment linger
They'll take me out at dawn and I will die
With all my love I'll place this wedding ring upon your finger
There won't be time to share our love for we must say goodbye
For we must say goodbye

Easter 1916

By William Butler Yeats

I HAVE met them at close of day
Coming with vivid faces
From counter or desk among grey
Eighteenth-century houses.
I have passed with a nod of the head
Or polite meaningless words,
Or have lingered awhile and said
Polite meaningless words,
And thought before I had done
Of a mocking tale or a gibe
To please a companion
Around the fire at the club,
Being certain that they and I
But lived where motley is worn:
All changed, changed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.

That woman's days were spent
In ignorant good-will,
Her nights in argument
Until her voice grew shrill.
What voice more sweet than hers
When, young and beautiful,
She rode to harriers?
This man had kept a school
And rode our winged horse;
This other his helper and friend
Was coming into his force;
He might have won fame in the end,
So sensitive his nature seemed,
So daring and sweet his thought.
This other man I had dreamed
A drunken, vainglorious lout.
He had done most bitter wrong
To some who are near my heart,
Yet I number him in the song;
He, too, has resigned his part
In the casual comedy;
He, too, has been changed in his turn,
Transformed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.

Hearts with one purpose alone
Through summer and winter seem
Enchanted to a stone
To trouble the living stream.
The horse that comes from the road.
The rider, the birds that range
From cloud to tumbling cloud,
Minute by minute they change;
A shadow of cloud on the stream
Changes minute by minute;
A horse-hoof slides on the brim,
And a horse plashes within it;
The long-legged moor-hens dive,
And hens to moor-cocks call;
Minute by minute they live:
The stone's in the midst of all.

Too long a sacrifice
Can make a stone of the heart.
O when may it suffice?
That is Heaven's part, our part
To murmur name upon name,
As a mother names her child
When sleep at last has come
On limbs that had run wild.
What is it but nightfall?
No, no, not night but death;
Was it needless death after all?
For England may keep faith
For all that is done and said.
We know their dream; enough
To know they dreamed and are dead;
And what if excess of love
Bewildered them till they died?
I write it out in a verse -
MacDonagh and MacBride
And Connolly and Pearse
Now and in time to be,
Wherever green is worn,
Are changed, changed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.

NOTE

Of the men listed at the bottom of the Proclamation:

Thomas J. Clarke is the man Yeats refers to as hurting a friend.
Thomas MacDonagh is the brother in law of Grace Gifford from "Grace".
P. H. Pearse is the poet who wrote the proclamation and was the mentor and teach of Joseph Plunkett.
James Connolly was a youth worker and Socialist.
Joseph Plunkett is the young protege of Pearse whose promise TYears remarks upon, and the fiance of Grace Gifford. They were to have married on Easter Sunday. Instead they married in the prison chapel with two guards as witnesses just hours before Plunkett was executed.

Learn more at Easter Rising.

---

[Nan Hawthorne is the host of Radio Dé Danaan, an online radio station featuring music of the Celts the world over. Visit to hear these and other songs and poems.]

Florid Teenaged Writing (and a Sex Scene!)

The following stories I wrote in early 1968 when I was just turned sixteen. They are among the stories that were the basis for my 2008 novel, AN INVOLUNTARY KkING: A TALE OF ANGLO SAXON ENGLAND -- see information on the right of this article.

It was the first week of November, and fall's slow descent into winter had turned the leaves of the trees to gold, amber and red. A few birds, preparing for their migration southwards, yet lingered in the trees. The air was crisp and chilly. As the young Queen walked down the path she thought of how beautiful the garden was, how wonderful it would be if only Lawrence were there. Nothing seemed real without him…

A noise startled her. She looked around but saw nothing. She took another step and suddenly she saw a familiar figure a little ways ahead of her, sitting on a mound with his face in his hands. It was Rory. He hardly stirred until she had gone up to him and touched him, kneeling.

Rory jumped at the touch and looked frightened. Josephine laughed softly and kissed his forehead lightly.

"Whatever is wrong, Rory? I shan't bite thee! I've not seen thee about the court since thou'st been here. We've missed thee."

"I'm very sorry, " he answered, "But, but…may I speak frankly with ye? Sure, and I'd be most grateful!"

Josephine looked confused. "Why certainly," she said, "Thou'st not ill?"

"Nay, nay! Not physically ill. But there is something very deep in me heart, and I need help."

"Why, Rory dear, of course I'll help you! I'll do anything ye want that is within my power."

"Your Majesty…Jo, may I call you that? Jo, I am in love. So many times I have been infatuated, a girl in every village. But never in love. The lass I love is young, and fair, and good as can hurt me heart so. Also, she…she is married."

"Oh Rory, this is terrible!" The Queen was truly sorry for him. "Who is it? Cans't thou tell me her name, or her husband's?

"Aye, Jo, I can, but ye will not care for him having heard it. Her husband is one of the finest men I have ever known. He is almost as dear to me as Shannon, thou' I've hardly met him. The man is Lawrence."

Rory looked at the Queen wildly and threw himself on the grass sobbing, " It is ye I love, me own fair Jo!"

The Queen turned deathly pale. She stared at Rory in pain. " Oh, Rory, thou knowest I could never love thee!"

He lifted himself from the grass, still sobbing. His blue eyes were flooded with tears that poured down his cheeks. His red hair was tousled. He put his head on her breast, and pleaded, "Never can ye love me, Jo?"

"Nay, Rory. Never as a lover. I can love thee as I love Shannon, and Percy and Erik, but never as I love my lord Lawrence. I shall love him always. There is no man I can love as I do him."

Rory stood. He looked at her quietly and touched her hair. Then he turned and took two or three steps.

"Rory!"

He turned and looked anxiously at the Queen.

"I'm sorry…"

He case his eyes downward. "Nay, do not be. I cannot expect love from one loved by such as he. But…but…

Josephine looked at him tenderly.

"I'll never love anyone but ye, Jo. I'll never kiss a maid unless it be ye." Rory tried to smile and walked to her. He kissed her hand, and turned and left, leaving the Queen in a highly confused state.


"There is really no one of importance here. My friend, the Duke, has gone visit his daughter some distance away. Lady Jocelyn is my dearest companion. She would really be the only one thou wouldst be interested in meeting. After that thou will wish to see Erik and Rory and Shannon, I suppose." The Queen chatted happily to Lawrence as she led the way across the castle.

"Oh, indeed, Rory and Shannon, I must see them before they leave. Thou has gotten along well with them?" he queried.

She did not answer for a moment, then very sadly replied, "Aye, my lord, we have grown very fond of one another."

Luckily, Lawrence misinterpreted her meaning. "There now, don't be sad. They'll not be long in returning, and we'll all have merry times then."

He drew her closer to him an they forgot all else but each other, each thinking that truly they were the most fortunate propel on earth to be so loved.

They had found the Lady Jocelyn and Erik and Shannon but Rory was not seen until dinner.

After all had listened courteously to a ballad on the greatest of King Lawrence, the King set down his cup and held up his hand for silence."

"I was pleased to see my dear friends again that I have not, it seems, met with for a year. But Rory, why met ye not your King?"

"I wager he had business in the village!" jested Shannon, and the hall, catching ribald reference, roared with laughter. Rory's expeditions were well known.

"Ye would put a maiden before your king?" Lawrence said severely, but with a twinkle in his eye.

"I," said Rory and last, raising his eyes from the table to his royal friend and to the Queen who avoided his gaze, "I was not with a maiden this afternoon…" leaning forward, so that only Lawrence and Josephine might hear what he said, "Knowing thee, my liege, I thought that thou should more appreciate that thou were left alone with my wife than had all my friends about thee."

"It is true, very true, " laughed Lawrence. "Thou art indeed a true friend, Rory. Wilt thou sing us a song tonight?" He added, after a moment, while the Queen thought to herself that the real reason Rory had left was that he could not bear to see their reunion.

Ah Rory, what can I do for thee to lessen they pain? What can I give in return for thy devotion.


Despite the fact that Josephine had promised the doctors she would sleep late, she was up at the first rays of dawn.

Lady Bethia came in from the adjoining room. She turned to scold the Queen, but the Queen was so bright and cheerful this morning that Lady Bethia could not keep from smiling to herself.

"Hast thou forgotten your promise, your majesty?" she inquired.

"No," Josephine said, unconcerned. She pranced across the room to the window. She blew a kiss to a gardener, and scandalized poor Lady Bethia.

"But how in heaven's name could I sleep this morning? Do they honestly expect me to stay abed today when Lawrence is coming? Oh, Lady Bethia, I feel like singing and dancing. I simply cannot believe it.. He is gong to be here with me. I think I shall go mad with joy!"

"And drive everyone mad with thee," the old lady muttered.

"But dost thou not think Lawrence will be expecting to see thee, a beautiful, graceful Queen acting in a queenly manner, and not tearing out to see him like a child?"

Josephine considered this for a moment. "Well, I shall try," she said soberly. But it has been so very long and I shall be very glad to see him."

Meanwhile in the forest the king and a few companions were hurrying through the last lap of their journey.

They were a gay party. Not for several yeas had the King been so happy, so dashing, and so gallant. His friends winked at each other and said that just thinking about Queen Josephine was enough to raise any man's spirits and teasing the King, warning him that perhaps for a while, tonight certainly, he would do no sleeping.

But Lawrence was in such a good mood that all the jests simply passed him by.

Josephine had donned her most beautiful gown to meet Lawrence. Her haw was a crown of gold. Never, swore the ladies who attended her, had she seemed more beautiful.

All morning long she had posted herself in a high turret looking out across the meadows.

As Lawrence approached the castle, he urged his horse on faster and faster till they were galloping at a frantic pace. At last before him lay Ratherwood, her towers proud and lofty. Involuntarily, Lawrence looked up and scanned the turrets and saw the object of his affection, a cloud of golden hair blowing about her face whilst she waved frantically.

As he stared for the castle she immediately disappeared from the turret and by the time he had reached it, she was waiting with whole household.

Within 15 feet of her he stopped and dismounted without taking his yes off of her and stood gazing at her as if in a trance. Even in his dreams she had not been so fair, her golden hair hung down to her tiny waist her bosom was heaving with emotion, her eyes brimming with tears. She was shining with love and longing for him.

She not be able to move, was staring at him. All her pent up love and longing swelled to her throat and she could not speak. How handsome he was, she thought, how lucky I am and oh how much I love him.

At long last (or so it seemed; in fact it was not longer than 10 seconds) he called "Josephine" so softly that none heard him but she. She fairly flew across the space to him and he gathered her in his arms. He kissed her long and hard and then swung her about the waist and kissed her again. Paying no attention to the people gathered about, he picked her up and carried her though the hall and into a room, slamming the door. He put her down. He said, "Thou art crying!"

She smile through her tears. "I know, I can't help it. Is it really thee? Is this just a dream?" For answer her kissed again asked her, "Can a dream do that?"

She laughed up at him and said she might be convinced if he kissed her again. So he kissed her again with such passion that her body throbbed with need for him that she was completely and totally his as she had never been before. He kissed her until she hurt with need for him and every fiber of her being cried out with agony and still he kissed her.

When he let her go, she was so weak he had to hold her up. After a moment she admitted breathlessly that he was indeed not a dream. A moment later she inquired wither he would like to see his children, his heir and his daughter.

"Yes, but of course," he said eagerly. "Prince Peter of Christenlande" he said with pride. "And Princesses Elaine and Caithness." A cloud came across his face. "Has thou figured out which is thine?"

She shook her head sadly. Her lips quivered. What a terrible thing to happen to a woman, he thought. He wrapped his arms around her and she put her face against his chest and sobbed.

When she had finally spent herself out she looked up at him and smiled bravely. "Well, at least come see them. They're both adorable and both worthy to be the daughters of the greatest king on earth."


The nursery of the royal children was quieter than usual. The young Prince sat with his toy knights and thought as deeply as his infant mind would allow. His tow sisters each lay in their cribs, playing clumsily with bells suspended just within their reaches. Peter looked up and giggled at little at them.

The door opened and their parents entered. Josephine was proud to show Lawrence how fair and bright their children were. The King was eager to see his son, seventeen months older now that when he first saw him, and to see the Princess for the first time. His eyes were wide with anticipation as he entered the nursery, smiling broadly.

Lawrence put one arm around his wife's waist and put his lips gently on her sweet billows of fragrant, golden hair. In the few moments he had been reunited with her, he had realized that he loved her more now than eve before, and that he would keep loving her more and more, with no ultimate.

Peter looked up and smiled. "Mama!" he cooed. Lawrence could but stand and look at his children.

The Queen looked up and smiled. She knew that look wee, the "the wonder at the miracle he saw before him. Lawrence kissed her and murmured softly, "Thank you!"

Josephine stooped and lifted Peter. Proudly she presented the child to his father. Peters eyes went immediately to the King's beard. His attempts to pull it off were futile, so he gave up and looked at his mother. "Where Ah-Reek?"

The Queen laughed. "Erik's sleeping, little man. Look, here is Peter's daddy! Daddy! See?" The King laughed, too. After a moment, Peter decided his wooded knights had waited too long, so his mother set him down to play.

The King looked over at the girls. "Which is Caithness, and which is Elaine? Oh, how sweet they both look!"

Josephine nodded. "Aye. And I see thou canst not see the difference, either! Here, let me hold Caitie, see? She has curlier hair. Thou shalt hold Elaine, if ye wish."

"No, let me hold them both. I'm quite strong enough, " Lawrence insisted.

Josephine laughed. "I know," she said dreamily.

The King took both babies in his arms. "They are so perfect! I cannot ever thank thee enough! Thu has borne for me alone these fine children! I could not be more grateful!"

The Queen hand gone to the other side of the cribs. She smiled emotionally and said, "I am so perfectly happy, so, proud 'tis thee that fathered t hem. I would have no one else to do that. My children have the greatest man alive for a father. An 'tis to my eternal joy that they do."

"I love thee!" the King said abruptly. " I love thee more than my lips can tell, nor my hear! Oh, Josephine!" His voice failed a moment. He looked at Josephine. Her face was flushed, her bosom with heaving with love and desire.

Lawrence put the princesses down gently in their cribs, looked again at Josephine, his eyes wild, and gasped. "I want thee so!"

She went to his arms and held tight to him. She could barely breathe, her passion was so great. His eyes were shut, his head inclined towards the floor, his cheek pressed against hers. Lawrence's passion was so great that he was sweating, and had to take breaths in gulps. He buried his face in her neck let the hunger for her subside a little.

Lawrence lifted his head and smiled into her eyes. He kissed her. Then he smiled again into her eyes. He lifted her and swung her about, laughing. "This time I shall stay as long as is in my power! It will take much to steal me from thee again!" He wiped away a tear of joy from her cheek. "Come, let's go and meet thy friends!"


Lawrence and Shannon had been gone to the seaport all day and one night. In the morning they were sighted, tho', their packhorses laden with gifts.

A merchant ship had sailed in, overflowing with glorious wares, gotten from as far off as Persia, Africa, and Poland. The King and his friend had been curious, and had ridden off to see. As the two brought the curios in, aided by servants, their eyes twinkled. Shannon proudly presented Virginie with an amber arm band, Sean with a beautiful flute from Arabia, and Queen with a fabulous mirror, for which he traded his treasured harp. "I've still me lute," he said when she protested.

Lawrence passed out various gifts, but when he got to his wife, he smiled slyly. "And now, I present the finest of all!" He opened a box, reached in, and brought out a cat. Jo's eyes lit up in excitement. "All the way from Siam. That, my love, is almost at the edge of the Earth!"

The dainty face was chocolate brown, as were its feet, and tail. The rest was a warm cream color. Lawrence exclaimed it was a female.

Jocelyn was so amazed that she was able to leave the blue brocade cloth the king had given her, and jumped excitedly around the Queen. "Oh, what will thou name her?" Jo decided to delay the christening. She kissed her husband and took the young cat to her chair and sat with it, ecstatic.

A while later the excitement died down. As to names, Lawrence had suggested Phaedra, Shannon had suggested Tabitha, and others had mentioned Milady, Belinda and Samara.

That night, Lawrence carried the Queen to their room. Later, as he lay beside her, he kissed her and began to caress her, as he did every night he was there. Just as he was about to kiss her again, the little Siamese jumped between them. The couple laughed and Lawrence tossed the kitten off the bed gently.

All went very well for a while, but the next time he cat chose a bad time to interfere. The King and Queen were in the very midst of their amour. The Siamese jumped between them and upset everything. The King moaned and sat up, throwing his legs over the side of the bed. The Queen could not help but laugh, not at the cat's interference, but at Lawrence, because he sat with his face in his hands, growling! Her laugher was contagious; he began to laugh also, and soon both of them were laughing hysterically.

When they had sobered a little, the King snatched the poor, well-meaning cat up and gave it to Clancy to keep for the night, and believe it or not, he and the Queen actually did live through the night!


You can find more of these old stories at An Involuntary King: Welcome to Críslicland. The drawing above is from roughly the same period.

New Reviews of My Books

Review of An Involuntary King: A Tale of Anglo Saxon England
on Brandy Purdy's Book of the Week
By Brandy Purdy, author of The Confession of Piers Gaveston and The Boleyn Wife

An Involuntary King is a grand tale, it is the best kind of story, a rich, exciting, medieval saga that skillfully blends adventure, romance, and history to weave a captivating tapestry the reader will want to stay enmeshed in even after the last page has been read.

Lawrence, younger son of Arneth, King of Crislicland, was never meant to be king. When tragedy foists the crown upon him, he fights to master his own feelings of unworthiness and self-doubt and prove himself worthy of the honor. He strives to become not just a good king, but a great king--strong, beloved, and wise.

This novel charts the trials, tribulations, and triumphs of Lawrence's reign: the bloody battles to hold his kingdom and vanquish his foes; his marriage to the passionate and lively Josephine, whose beauty draws admirers as honey does flies, including a darkly handsome mercenary willing to do anything to make her his own.

With a vibrant cast of characters who seem to spring to life and leap right off the page and burrow tenaciously into the reader's imagination with a determination never to be forgotten, An Involuntary King is from start to finish a delight to read. The author's love, knowledge, and dedication to this book and its characters are apparent on every page. It is a strong and engrossing novel that fully deserves a dedicated following.

You can purchase An Involuntary King at http://www.amazon.com/Involuntary-King-Anglo-Saxon-England/dp/1419656694 or visit the author's website www.nanhawthorne.com for more details.

Thanks, Brandy!

Review of Loving the Goddess Within
on Wicca Sprituality
By Dragonsong

Loving the Goddess Within: Sex Magick For Women, by Nan Hawthorne, reveals the sensual aspect of spiritual worship.

Hawthorne writes, "Love and sex are essential parts of magick, being the re-enactments of the Goddess's initiating and sustaining energy and of the cycles of fertility."

The premise of Loving the Goddess Within is that sexuality and the passionate interplay of energies is integral to Wicca.

The Wheel of the Year, for instance, is based on the sexual interplay of the Goddess and the God, and the creativity which that engenders.

Loving the Goddess Within explores the Wheel of the Year with this perspective, adding a dimension to the Sabbats and Esbats that is often lacking.

Wiccans may speak of the sexual Play of the Goddess and the God, but so often it is in a sterile, factual kind of way. Loving the Goddess Within brings the passion back to this ultimately creative cycle.

As the Charge of the Star Goddess reminds us, "All acts of love and pleasure are Her rituals."

Despite the name, to me this is less a book about magickal sex than about the erotic component to Wicca. And a guidebook to rediscovering the Goddess who lives within us, yearning for liberation and bliss.

The Perks

One of the joys of this book is Hawthorne's inclusion of non-heterosexual options. She doesn't limit sexual magick to a dichotomy of genders. In fact, she is clear that the Goddess exists within all people, female and male, as does the God.

Loving the Goddess Within also proposes a coming of age ritual for girls. Hawthorne is very aware of the sexual training given to girls, both overt and unspoken. She offers options to help our daughters grow into a healthy, devotional sexuality.

While the book is about so much more than "just" sexuality, Loving the Goddess Within includes ideas for sexual rituals, offered in a gentle, warm, and encouraging manner.

And lest one think this book entirely too tame, Hawthorne also offers positive, empowering fantasies and role-playing ideas.

The Gifts of Reclaiming Women's Sexuality

I love this book for the gift of bringing sensual and sexual fervor back to the practice of Wicca. If there is any spiritual path where sexuality belongs, Wicca is it.

And reclaiming women's sexuality is so much more than a gift to ourselves, and to the Goddess Herself.

It is a gift to all women, and our daughters, and ultimately to every being on Earth.

Excerpts from Loving the Goddess Within: Sex Magick For Women

Put aside the big books now . . . They are all important and will leave you enriched beyond your expectations, and you may read them later. But for now it's time to play.

The Goddess inside of you, the Goddess Who IS you, wants to sink into a hot tub up to her neck in musky suds, to laugh with a playmate, to nibble a sweet, and to trail imaginary wisps of stars in the air with the tips of her toes.

This book has a heavy purpose, to bring forth from you the love for the Goddess which is the love for yourself. Search Amazon.…

It has a tall task, since you were raised to believe your body's desires were at worst shameful or at best rather trivial.

But in each of us is the giggling girl-child who likes nothing better than to swirl her tongue through rich, sweet ice cream, to run just as fast as she can through a field of tall grass, to snuggle up in a flannel nightgown straight from the dryer on a cold night, or to thrust both hands up to the wrist in cool, slippery mud pies.

But it is not a heavy book. There are no stern admonitions or daunting rhetoric. With very little encouragement from me, you are going to have some fun, and, if you keep doing it, you'll find the Goddess freed within you.

And She'll thank us both for it.

~ from Loving the Goddess Within: Sex Magick For Women, p. 1 - 2

Not bad for a book that came out in 1992@ You will find it on Amazon as a used book, and on Lulu.com as a download.

How to Create a Writer's Blog

By Rob Parnell
Rob Parnell's Easy Way to Write
[Reprinted with permission of the copyright holder.]

You don't need me to tell you that self publicity is a writer's secret weapon.

Bearing in mind that when you decide you want to be a published author, it's most likely going to take you anywhere between two to five years to see your books in print - that's the reality of the publishing world.

So why not use that time to build a following? Why wait until the last minute to start your promotional activities when the Internet is a perfect place to get people reading your writing, and getting to know and like you through a regular blog?

It's not as if it costs anything - except your time - so you have no real excuse do you?

Where to Start

Go immediately to blogger.com and register a blog spot for yourself, either using your own name or some other phrase that means something to you.

Don't use Wordpress unless you're a complete masochist - and have oodles of time to waste on incomprehensible readme files. I have no idea why people use Wordpress at all - it's the most complicated interface I have ever come across and requires a degree in engineering just to install.

(Maybe that's it. Engineers are different from normal people - strange and unsociable with strange superiority complexes - maybe they need that level of complexity to feel validated!)

Blogger.com is easy. It does everything for you - and the dashboard where you can add your own stuff is beautifully simple to understand. The only drawback (if you can call it that) is that you need a gmail account to get started. No sweat.

What to Say

You don't need to have publishing credits to start talking about writing. It's your blog. You can say what you like. That's the beauty of the Net. Your opinion, your worldview is just as valid as anyone else's.

In fact, that's the trick I think: to be as honest and as frank as you can be. That's what will make you seem unique.

Don't just trot out the standard line on writing issues. Get in touch with how you really feel about your craft - and state it, boldly, with pride.

Blogs become popular over time because people dip into them, enjoy what they read - and remember you. And they remember sincerity for a lot longer than you simply trying to sell yourself, your books and your writing.

How Often You Should Blog

The major search engines trawl the Net at least once a week. Their spiders are looking for new content.

Therefore, in order for a blog to start appearing in search listings you need to keep updating it. Once a week ideally - but we all know that's not practical much of the time.

Regularity is the key - and relevance. Add topicality to your blog by mentioning world events, personalities and contemporary issues. These all raise your blog's profile - and its popularity.

Building a popular blog can take around a year or two - there's no getting around that. But that's why you need to start yours now. Think of your writing career as a long term investment. In a couple of years from now, wouldn't it be better to know that you've had blog readers - and loyal subscribers over that time?

Make sure you sign up for all the RSS feeds on offer - and you'll find, over time, you'll get more and more visitors.

Find an Angle

If nothing else, the media teaches us one thing: it's the angle that grabs attention.

Start a blog that details your week by week journey through your book or novel, for instance.

Write about a cause you believe in. Save the Whales, Obesity, Cancer Cures for example.

Take a religious or political stance (and get ready for vociferous responses!)

Or simply write about where you live, or the history of a place you love.

You'll find like minded people attracted to your site - and, one day, maybe a news service will contact you to use you as an authority in an interview. These things happen.

Can You Get Paid to Blog?

Yep. Put Google Ads on your blog. Blogger.com shows you how to do this. It's free and whenever anyone clicks on an ad within your blog page, you get paid. Easy. Money for jam.

You could also put an email catcher on your blog.

getresponse.com is free - as are many others, do a search on 'free autoresponders' - and most will integrate seemlessly with blogger.com.

After a few months you can try offering books and ebooks you've written to your subscribers. Or offer other writer's book as an affiliate.

Why not? Everyone's doing it - why leave money on the table?

In the Future You'll Wish You Started Now

Because when you do have your own published books out there in the real world, you'll have people you can tell about it. Publishers will like you for being able to say you have readymade fans to whom you can promote your work.

Book sales don't just happen nowadays. You have to find avenues of publicity and ways of increasing the probability you'll sell your books on the publisher's behalf.

And every little helps.

Keep Writing!

Rob@easywaytowrite.com

Go here for more helpful writing articles
http://easywaytowrite.com/articles.htm

---

Rob Parnell teaches online writing courses on such topics as Writing the Modern Thriller, which I am taking right now -- though my notion of "modern" is relative -- Fantasy Writing, Horror Writing, Writing for Kids, Re-writing, and much more. Sign up for his free writing newsletter.

Authors: How Not To Conduct Yourself at a Reading

This brilliant list of rules for how to act when you are talking to people about your book is reprinted with permission from More Scribblin', Augustina peach's blog on writing.

An Evening of Literacy...and Learning

By Augustina Peach

Tonight I attended a local authors' event sponsored by the county literacy council at the Hastings store in town. Eighteen authors participated, representing all different genres. Each author was given five or so minutes to make a presentation, and I was curious to see how they would handle them. From my observation, I've drawn several conclusions about what to do when I finally am involved in an authors' event as an author.

1) Be prepared. There were a couple of the authors who admitted, first thing, that they had problems with their vision, and then proceeded to read with their noses in the book or to stumble their way through the selection. My thoughts on that? If you KNOW you have an event coming up, and you KNOW you have issues with something like vision, then you ought to take steps to be ready. Print out your selection in a larger font so you can see it well; practice reading it aloud ahead of time. Do whatever it takes to avoid looking like an unprepared amateur.

2) It's not about you. Several of the authors started off by telling us when they first knew they wanted to be a writer. The first time through, that was mildly interesting, but by the time you've heard four or five people say they have been writing since they were (fill in the blank) years old, you begin to start wondering what's on the magazine rack you're sitting against. The best presentations were the ones that focused on something related to the book or that the audience could relate to. One woman, whose book was a novel based in the Civil War, told a couple of stories of Civil War events in the local area. Another woman, who had written a children's book about fire safety, had a testimonial from a little girl who said what she learned from the book helped her get herself and her father out their home when it caught on fire. The last speaker, a man who had written an "automythography," was very wise - he made a joke about "being all that stood between the audience and their pajamas" and then gave a very concise overview of his book. It makes me think of one of the principles I teach in speech class: "Consideration of the audience is important at every stage of speech preparation and delivery."

3) Don't be pretentious. Two of the authors mentioned comments by reviewers. One said his work had been compared favorably to Orwell's Animal Farm, and the other said a review said his work is a combination of the National Enquirer and the Bagadavita. I guess if you've got reviews, you want to use them for all they're worth, but somehow those comments just seemed out of place in a Hastings store in front of small-town people on a Thursday night when you're part of a panel that includes a children's book and a manual on how to pitch.

4) Don't look cheap. I've heard people say if you're going to have a website, you need to cough up the money to buy your own domain name, and now I know why. One woman gave her web address as "www.freesites/something," and that word "free" just really jumped out.

5) Look like you're having fun. One of my favorite presentations for the night was from a high school maintenance man who had written a book of poetry. He gave the audience genuine smiles, and he performed a couple of poems with some enthusiasm. He seemed genuinely glad that we were there to hear his poetry. Other authors just seemed sort of uncomfortable and treated the audience like "customers" there to maybe buy a book.

I know it's easy to sit in front of the magazine rack and listen instead of being one of the presenters. But I hope I can take what I learned from my observations this evening and put them to good use if I ever DO find myself behind the presenter's table.

Note: Someday, not soon enough, the rest of the world will have the pleasure I did of reading a wonderful historical novel by this author... can't say more, except that I promise to tell you about it when I can.

Characters - Shaken, Not Stirred

Mario, a friend of mine the other day told me that the one problem with my beloved lifelong friends of characters in An Involuntary King is that they were my beloved lifelong friends of characters. He said he would like to see what I did with a whole new slate, as I have with some of the stories on Ghostletters, such a Leona, my ex-Seattle cop who can morph into an African lioness and her various adventures with trickster gods and were-underworld criminals.

I thought about this. I talked to my mystery writing instructor and a classmate. I consulted my own druthers, which always win out in the end. I decided I was gonna do it. So out the window go the clones of my old characters, Shannon and Rory poorly disguised, and Leofric, Rhys, Ystradwell and the others only slightly more so.

I am happy to announce the birth of a new hero and trusted friend duo, dynamic or not. I need to read up on Cornish family naming practices, but for now let's meet Krrick, a traveling musician just as Shannon was, but with a decidedly less quirky and devil-may-care personality. This time the friend, who nevertheless still has a sunlit smile, is Aki Elricsson, not exactly Lenny to his George, since Aki is really quite bright, just remarkably quiet.

I am actually relieved to have come to this decision. I was actually rather looking forward to adding to my supply of imaginary friends.

The group gathered around the long rough-hewn table in the tavern.

"Phew!" exclaimed Aedan. "I wasn't even in the first novel until the epilogue, but I was already exhausted thinking of being in a whole series!'

Leofric nodded and drank from his ale bowl at the same time. "You're telling me. And I wasn't too crazy about the demotion either."

Ystradwell gave them all a wistful look and sighed, "I thought it was going to be nice, so romantic, and getting to be the center of attention again..."

Shannon patted her lightly on the shoulder. "Don't worry. You would be the center of attention in any novel."

The tavern keeper put her hands on her ample hips and smiled. "I get to stay in the book. I'll miss you all."

Aedan reassured, "But think of it, you get to meet Aki and Kerrick!"

THE END

Soemone tell me you are in awe of my courage...

Announcing "Today in medieval History"

You may have noticed that at the very top of the right hand side of this blog a Twitter feed with dates in medieval history. We just improved on this little feature. Now there is a whole blog dedicated to providing tidbits of interesting events, including battles, births, deathss and matters related to the arts, architecture, astronomy, religion, and more. It is Today in Medieval History, a daily calendar. You can see the updates every day on this blog or visit the blog itself, even sign up to follow the new blog.

Please visit at your leisure and let us know what you think of the new feature. Would you like to put Today in Medieval History on your blog or web site? Just let us know.

Writing the Modern Thriller: Research

Lesson Two of Rob Parnell's Writing the Modern Thriller focuses on research. The following is what i turned in for the exercise for this course.

Thriller – Lesson 2 – Research

Well I know I flunk this one right from the start.. but I think I can work through the fact that my “thriller” takes place in late 10th century Winchester, England. First of all, I know this era almost as well as I know my own. As I wrote my first novel, AN INVOLUNTARY KING, I corrected a great many assumptions about early medieval England – such as they did not have castles – and learned a great deal about the society. I have been researching this time and place for two years already. Before I got my Plustek BookReader and could start actually reading any book or article I wished, I did some creative networking that would meet your approval I suspect. I met and have called on the generosity of a city councilman in Winchester and picked the brain of a scholar at what used to be called King Alfred College. I also know that there is a great deal of wiggle room as there are so few existing records of the time and place. I can fake it, that is. Finally I read lots and lots of novels about the general era in order to soak up what other historical novelists have l earned.

So I will include research I have started as well as need to do. I have already done or started #’s 1-5.

Research List

1. The layout of the city of Winchester in 985. DONE
2. The Old English names for everything on the map. DONE
3. The events in the year(s) I intend to cover. DONE
4. Facts about the town of East Wellow and Romsey Abbey. DONE
5. Authentic names for the period. DONE
6. The particularly prominent personages of the era.
7. Some details of the nature of the priesthood in late tenth century England.
8. The duties and equipment of a reeve’s man.
9. The armourer’s craft.
10. The status of bards in 10th century Ireland. lOW PRIORITY.
11. General life in Anglo Saxon England. DONE

For my next few posts, I will concern myself with these undone topics:

6. The particularly prominent personages of the era.
7. Some details of the nature of the priesthood in late tenth century England.
8. The duties and equipment of a reeve’s man.
9. The armourer’s craft.

How Far Is Too Far?

I had another one of those discussions about historical accuracy in historical fiction with Jim Tedford the other day. He is on the side of remembering that a novel is fiction and if people choose to believe everything you wrote is fact then they are the fools, not the author. He concedes that it is nice if the author includes an author's note that says which bits were true, but he does not even require that. And he is making more and more sense.

If you asked him, he would tell you what he thinks. He would say fiction is fiction. What is different about historical fiction? Why does Braveheart get your knickers into such a twist?" I sputter this reason and that and ultimately find myself expressing my personal druthers rather than any sound and definitive argument.

So here are some examples of making free with history that I want you to look at and choose any that you think go too far. Let us know in the comments section below. Tell us why that one is not OK but the others are. There is no foregone conclusion. We want to hear what you have to say. These are, by the way, all real books.

Specimen 1 - The author changes an events sequence in history to make the story flow better. She has a relatively minor event occur earlier than it really did.

Specimen 2 - The author sets the novel in a real time with some authentic historical figures as minor characters, but the kingdom the story takes place in is fictional and the main characters fictional.

Specimen 3 - The author uses real historical figures but has two who never could have met do so and fall in love and have a child whom history records as the woman's husband's chi9ld.

Specimen 4 - The author embellishes on a real relationship that we do not however know much about, making an ambiguous one into a great romance.

Specimen 5 - In a series, the author puts his hero into numerous historical events and makes him responsible for all the pivbotsl deeds that were done by real people.

Specimen 6 - An author brings technologies into a story that did not exist in that time and place.

Specimen 7 - An author applies quite modern behavior to a character living in the 12th century.

Feel free to mention books you think have these characteristics or to mention more.

All I Know Is the King Wants a Frosting Flower...

No Fair! Thoughts on Nudity in Films

Do I dare add an image to this post... I could get shut down! Dumber things happen all the time.

Speaking of dumb things... These days an R rated film can have full nudity, even full frontal nudity... but only if the nude is female! Now c'mon, is that fair?! Male nudity is the sole realm of porn.. and MONTY PYTHON'S THE LIFE OF BRIAN. Why is that?

I suppose if you are against full frontal male nudity, i.e. pictures of penises, you would be against full frontal female nudity too... and probably all nudity.

But if the issue is not general censure, why can we see bums, boobs, and pudenda but not penises? Are penises inherently more obscene or evil-doing or corrupting?

Or is what some might suggest that women are sex objects but not men? They are for many gay men and quite a few women, I'll have you know.

I wonder... maybe it's the actors. Maybe they don't want us to know how well... or poorly... hung they are. There probably isn't an equivalent in penis department for a stool for Tom Cruise to stand on so he looks taller.

I dunno.. all I can say is, "No fair!"

A Yarn Painting of a Site in Críslicland

"Yarn painting" of the bluff at Lawrenmcium by Nan Hawthorne

Writing the Modern Thriller Course

OK, just replace the gun with a seaxa.

I decided that before I go on to write the rest of the mystery I am working on I needed to learn more about constructing one. Karen Brees, a colleague on the Historical Novel Society Yahoogroup, highly recommended Rob Parnell's Easy Way to Write Workshops, in particular "Writing the modern Thriller", the closest thing to a mystery writing class. I looked over the workshop information and decided it fit my needs.*

I plan to post my exercvises here, though of course I shan't share the contents of lessons as that would be Wrong, Unfair to Mr. Parnell, and a Violation of Copyright in the bargain.

Parnell offers a free newsletter with tips, lessons, and other treats. Just go to his site and sign up.

Lesson 1 - Three key Characters

The Hero

Race - Irish

Appearance – Small in stature, thin, red curly hair, blue eyes

Dress – Early Irish Celtic dress, kilt, shirt, bare legs and sandals, colorful as befits a bard

Age – early 30s

Occupation – out of work bard

Marital status - unmarried

Three key characters traits

Accepts others for themselves and assumes others do the same with him.
Masterful harper and singer.
Fond of women of all types, ages, sizes, classes, and not just for sex.

Two major characters flaws

Refuses to recognize distinctions in rank and class.
Can have a quick temper.

Three habits – drinking too much,

A party animal.
Inclined to fidget.
Short attention span at times.

Name

Séannon ui Cuíl / Shannon O’Quill

Plus you might like to invent a one-line personal
'mission statement' for each of the three characters.

I travel through the lands bringing beauty and pleasure to all I meet.

The Trusted Friend

Race - Irish

Appearance – Very tall, long legs that make him clumsy, dark red hair, and a sunlit smile, muscular upper torso

Dress – early Irish Celtic at first, later Saxon era armor

Age – early 30s

Occupation – Former soldier, turned storyteller and now temporarily member of guard

Marital status - unmarried

Three key characters traits

Devoted to hero
Gentle.
Courageous.

Two major characters flaws

Tends to sacrifice too much for others.
Too single-minded

Three habits

Looks to hero for guidance in all situations.
Clumsy when under stress.
Gravitates to children and animals.

Name

Ruairi Magh Donnaighi – Rory MacDonohue

Plus you might like to invent a one-line personal
'mission statement' for each of the three characters.

I am the companion of a great bard who spreads beauty throughout the land, and shall steadfastly support him in all he does.

The Villain

NOTE - This is a SPOILER. Do not rread on if you don't wabnt to know whodunit until you read the book.

Race - Saxon

Appearance – Medium tall, gray haired, black piercing eyes, rigid

Dress – Priest’s cassock

Age – early 50s

Occupation - priest

Marital status - unmarried

Three key characters traits

Absolute devotion to his religion.
Judgmental.
Willing to do anything he thinks is necessary

Two major characters flaws

Violent.
Suspicious.

Three habits

Draws himself up to his full height and stares you down.
Scratches a spot on the back of his hand absently until it bleeds.
Inserts himself without invitation.

Name + Father Wulfstan

Plus you might like to invent a one-line personal
'mission statement' for each of the three characters.

I shall destroy all corruption and evil doing in this sinful world.

* (Just in case you look around for a mystery writing class and discover Steve Alcorn's, I already took that one and did not find it terribly helpful. It did not address construction of the mystery itself, and further Mr. Alcorn made some major factual faux pas in his lessons. You certainly should decide for yourself.)

Storyteller to Dramatist -An Opportunity to Strut Your Stuff

Have you been itching to write radio plays? Here is a call for submissions from a troupe of players who can't pay you but will consider your work with enthusiasm and give you all they have to give... their talent and a new audience.

As a novelist, I see this as an opportunity to try out the genre but also to market books.. if you wrote a twenty minute drama or comedy from your novel it would give people a lot of reason to want to read the book! They can't pay, but besides being fun, this would be a chance to get one's work out there.

To wit:

American Radio Theater is a 501c3 non-profit. We have a two-prong approach to our mission. There are a lot of great stories that were on the radio back in the 1940s and 1950s, but their original recordings are lost or otherwise unavailable. For some of those, the scripts still exist, and ART brings those great stories back to life. But working on preserving the past isn't all we want to do. We also want to encourage new writers of radio-type audio plays, as well as preserving the techniques and production values learned when radio was live.

ART has an hour a week on the Radio Entertainment Network (REN), which is a syndicated service to the various blind and other groups--also available on the internet. (The same show is broadcast on Oregon Public Radio.) Jim Dolan, of REN, would like me to broadcast mostly new shows, but I can't produce enough of them, so I mix old-time-radio and new ART shows. He wants me to submit 55 minutes of content to him, because there are commercials that he needs to put in. Many of the Old-time-radio shows are 30 minutes long, which means I need a 15 or 20 minute show to fill out the "hour". Which is why this year I'm asking folks to consider writing a short story or play that could be adapted or produced by ART.

In radio format (basically double spaced), a page is roughly equal to a minute. We record using an ensemble of actors, all donating their time and talent. We have a couple of people who provide live sound effects, and then I add music and any other recorded sound effect as needed. After the show is completed (post-production), then copies are given out to the actors (and the writer), and are available to the public. This year we're working on putting together a pod-cast, off our web-site (www.AmericanRadioTheater.org).

We meet twice a month, on the first and third Mondays, 6:30 to 9:30, at a house in Madrona neighborhood of Seattle (south of the Arboretum). Our next meeting is on April 20. The time after that will be May 18 (I'm going on vacation going to Cincinnati and Los Angeles for OTR conventions.). Anyone can come, and be either an audience or an actor.

From a writer's viewpoint, a script submitted to and then modified and recorded by ART remains the property of ART, strictly in regards for the audio recording. The original story/script otherwise belongs to the author. We do have a contractual agreement that we have started to use.

Interested? Have questions? Contact Joy Jackson at JJLjackson@aol.com

The King Henry Show

Could You Pass 8th Grade History?

I am having email problems which are distracting me from my usual erudite and incisive blog posts.. so here's another quiz. Just so you know, I missed the one about the Confederate states. My sincerest apology to the Becker family.

Can You Pass 8th Grade History?

It's futuristic history for us medieval types, but it's interesting anyway. Just follow this link to take the quiz.

Humor in Armor

You may recall the Reader's Digest's Humor in Uniform... how about a series of jokes that take place in the Middle Ages called Humor in Armor? (I am plenty open to a better title...) If you have a joke that fits or can convert a modern joke to a medieval setting, send them on over to hawthorne@nanhawthorne.com and we will share it.. if it's funny. For example, this one.

A Royal Order

Margaret of Anjou and her husband, King Henry VI of England, sat down to dinner at the Earl of Warwick's feasting hall.

A deferential servant was soon at Queen Margaret's elbow. "Your majesty, here at Warwick we do things a little differently. Instead of placing great platters of food for all to take their portion from, we prefer to ask our guests what they wish to have. This shows one and all how copious are the larders of the Earl. Therefore I am sent to get your royal order, madame."

The Queen smiled at the servant and said, "That is a most peculiar practice, however, I am most willing to choose what I prefer to eat."

The servant bowed low, took out a slate and stylus and asked, "What kind of soup would you like, you majesty?"

The Queen answered, "I should like eel's broth."

"Very good. And for the meat, my lady?"

"I should like roast venison, medium rare."

The servant scribbled her two first requests on his slate. "Excellent choice, madame. And for the fish course, your grace?"

"I should think Scots salmon would be fine."

"Indeed and in perfect season this time of year, your majesty. Now, what about the vegetable?"

Margaret glanced at the king and replied, "Oh, he'll have the same."

You may recognize this joke as having originally featured First Lady Nancy Reagan and her presidential husband.

A Medieval Vocabulary Test

So you read a lot of historical fiction set in the Middle Ages? Test your knowledge of medieval terms.

Click on a word to see its definition on the Free Online Dictionary, including pronunciation and etymology. By the way, the placement of the pictures means nothing.

1. cuirass

2. merlon

3. bliaut



4. leman

5. reeve

6. ætheling

7. burh. See also King Alfred and the Burhs.



8. wicket

9. brigandine

10. ballista

11. franklin - scroll down below personal names.

12. coffer



13. claymore

14. posset

15. quern

16. obedientiaries

17. Brehon



18. wattle and daub

19. Brythonic

20. coracle

The Hazards of Clever Metaphors

The novel I am reading now has several instances of quite clever metaphors. By choosing a poetic phrase the author lends atmonsphere in a way that makes the observant reader sigh with satisfaction.

For instance, "his mood was gray as the ashes of a burned out house". This is not one the author actually used, but it has a feel of her better metaphors. A gray mood is dour enough but to evoke a burned house layers on even more somberness.

The trouble is that it is possible that an author will try this once too often. That is the case in the book I am reading. I had to stop and puzzle when she said of a character that "his confidence was shredding like cabbage". Huh? Cabbage doesn't shred. It is quite firm and taut in fact. You have to act on the cabbage in a specific way to make it become shredded. You cannot even pick up a cabbage and shred it, not without a knife. So if the young man's confidence is in shreds, I want to know who did it and with what knife.

Maybe another reader will accept the metaphor, a simile in this case, and read on. I find one aspect of having become a novelist is that this sort of thing stops me dead. It has to, as reading and editing my own work requires that I stop at every proverbial red light.. or flag.

If it makes other authors feel better about some of their own fractured metaphors I will tell you the author of this novel is a terrific writer, loved and honored far and wide. I have no desire to mock her for her self-shredding cabbages, but it makes me somehow less severe with my own feet of clay.

Jigsaw Puzzle: Castle Gate

Click on the puzzle to solve. You can then change the cut and number of pieces.