Let the Pens Begin! National Novel Writing Month 2009

It is just over four hours until the start of National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) here in the Pacific Time Zone. My friend Jack Graham started hours and hours ago, since he is in Sasebo, Japan. I know what he is going to write for NaNoWriMo this year, but I ain't gonna tell you... that's a good rule. What I will tell you is that Jack, who is a high school geometry teacher, has set up a local NaNoWriMo group composed of teachers and students from E. J. King High which is located on an army base. I will look forward to watching their pages pile up!

But, you ask, Nan, you are an established author! You don't need to prove to yourself you can write a novel. I blush, clear my throat, shuffle my feet and thank you for your generous assessment - and cast a baleful eye at the rest of you who giggled and rolled your eyes. But I answer your implied question, why am I doing NaNoWriMo? That's easy. Once I had my magnum opus finished and published, and it took me three years, not one friggin' month, all my drive seems to have wandered. I keep getting plotbunnies. That's not the problem, as most authors can attest. I just need to focus. The first novel had been brewing in me for decades. Now I had to see if I could start from scratch. I have started three novels since last fall, but while one, my NaNoWriMo from 2008, is nearly done, I have never finished it. I keep going back and forth between my mystery and a book of short pieces, fictionalized accounts of life in Anglo Saxon England. Coincidentally November happened again in 2009.. and I thought, hey, this could be just the thing!

What I hope to accomplish for NaNoWriMo 2009 is to get back into the habit of writing on a daily basis again. No wait, I do that now, but it's not books. I write blog entries, lots of them. I write little bits of fluff like this, book reviews, biographies of women in history, occasional fun pieces for Ghostletters. Other stuff. I want to get back into that magical addictive mindset of writing a single story. I want to get involved in people I am just now meeting, my characters. I want that state of mind where I am lost somewhere and sometime else. And I want that if at all possible to become my permanent state... Once one story is done, I start the next. They say it takes 21 days to develop a habit. NaNoWriMo is plenty long enough. To make the 50,000 words in 30 days I will have to write an average 1,667 words a day. I plan to do more, since I might actually want to come up for air on Thanksgivbing Day at least. I think I can write for as many as four hours at a stretch.. we'll see.

I also want a second novel (third book, fifth if you count my volunteer resource management training manuals) written and shopped to publishers. Do I know what I want to write? Boy howdy! It was just a cute little baby plotbunnty until about a month ago. I wanted to do a woman/woman love story with one a the women a crusader knight. Yeah, I now, there weren't any women knights. Well I am here to tell you that the research I have done in the past month puts that absolute statement of truth into doubt. And besides, historical fiction has a speculative aspect. What if? And I have come up with a plausible set of circumstances for how this phenomenon might come to pass. Don't worry, there will be an author's note giving my evidence and apolligies and resisting the temptation to tell people who don't like it to relax and enjoy the story.

I will set my story during the Crusade of 1101, one of the lesser known Crusades that was basically a farce - a tragic farce, but a farce all the same. It is also called the Crusade of the Faint-hearted because it was peopled by those who didn't quite actually, you see, I mean, I tried to go, but.. there was this.. um.. thing.. I had to do. Oh and others who did go but ran away. It was such a disaster it made all the subsequent Crusades harder to do. It gave rise to the power of the Italian merchant city-states because it lost the safe route so only ships could get to the Holy Land. I should restate that. The Crusade was an unqualified success. For the Turks. Into this flopping about and cowardly behavior on the part of the leaders of the crusade I am dropping my ear lest Elisabeth, a Herman novlewoman who takes her late twin brother's armor, weapons and squire and heads off to free .. well.. something from someone. or something. She will meet a Turkish woman, fall in love, and various hijinks will ensue. Will it end tragically or happily? I don't know for sure yet. My characters will tell me as the writing goes along.

If you would like to track my progress, the little widget in the upper right of this blog will theoretically keep up with that, though it isn't working yet and I can't get an answer from the folks at NaNo as to what to do about that. You can also check my author page on their site.

nicol_harrity's Novel Writing Page

... yes, I know.. that's not my name. Actually it is. That's my pen name for erotic novels, which is what I wrote last year, an erotic romance set in Oxfordshire right after Waterloo. My novel this year is not an erotic novel per se, but it was just easier to keep the same account.

Wish me luck, be patient with me, and I look forward to reporting on December 1 how it all went. As the road signs say, if you write to me, "expect delays".

Columbus Discovered North America? I Don't Think So!

Few people still believe that Christopher Columbus was the first European to discover America. Besides the legends of the Irish St. Brendan and the Welsh explorer Madoc, the journeys to Vinland the Good are backed up by Viking structures found in Newfoundland.

Apologists for Columbus claim that while they will admit that Leif Erickson got here earlier that the Norse failed to alert the rest of Europe, making their discovery essentially moot.

Not so! And I can prove it.

In 1112 AD Pope Paschell II appointed the first bishop of America. Of course, it wasn't called that yet, Amerigo Bespucci not having been born no less made the map and affixing his name. But he did call it by its Norse name, Vinland. He appointed Iceland born cleric Erik Gnupsson bishop of Greenland and Vinland. Gnupsson, also called Bishop Henricus, lived in the Greenland town of . He traveled to Vinland, it is reported, at least once to minister to the spiritual needs of the Norse settlers there.

So... if no one knew that the Norse had started to settle Binland, why would the Pope have appointed a bishop?

And why, if the Church knew about it, no one went to look?

So go ahead and celebrate October 12. If it makes you happy, who am I to point ouot it is the celebration of an also-ran, hmmm?

The Shakespeare Quote Generator

Give thy porcupine no tongue.

Which work of Shakespeare was the original quote from?

Get your own quotes:

See more like this at surrealist.com .

How Sea Witch Began – or How I Met Captain Jesamiah Acorne, by Helen Hollick

A bit of magic has been going on of late between Helen Hollick in England and me in Washingto n State. Not only are we both passionate devotees of Harold Godwinson, the last Saxon king of England, but we have discovered that certain of our characters are more real to us than many factual people we know. She sent me this marvellous story about how she met the protagonist of her Sea Witch series. Ass my own protagonist shares an office with me, I understood completely. Here Helen recounts how she came to know one Captain Jessemiah Acorne.

The agent sat thoughtfully in her office chair puffing at her cigarette. "What you need to do, darling, is write a fantasy novel."

"But I don't really do fantasy, do I? I spent ten years writing my Arthurian trilogy without any fantasy whatsoever because I wanted to remove Arthur from the myth and magic."

"Yes but Harry Potter is all the rage. Why not write something for teenagers?"

The author trudged down the four flights of stairs and out into the London rain. She crossed the road opposite the Ritz, wondering if she could afford tea there. Checking her purse, she toddled into the less expensive Joe's Cafe instead.

She wasn’t sure about writing fantasy. Nor for teenagers anyway. She liked writing historical fiction, she liked character interaction, the what motivates people, the invention of characters and what makes them tick. She liked writing about rugged heroes that were the sort of men you wouldn't want to get into a drinking contest with, but who would, all the same, be there to fix the fuse... and know where the torch is!
A Holiday. Dorset. England. A wet, windy October afternoon. The rain had poured all morning, but by early afternoon a weak, apologetic sun was squinting from behind a barricade of grey cloud. The author decided to walk the dogs on the beach. She armed herself with weapons against the weather. A hat, a coat, wellies and her ipod.

All week she had been researching her latest interest; the truth behind pirates. Now the film she had seen (and the character she had fallen hook-line-and-sinker in love with) was all very well, but it was not historically accurate. Tortuga, for instance, was cleared of pirates in the 1600's, Port Royal was no longer a town, just a naval base. Pirates did not turn into skeletons. But they DID wear bright ribbons, wave cutlasses about, get drunk and have an awful lot of fun.

As she was walking down the steep cliff-path, minding the bunny burrows and reminding one of the dogs that it was not a good idea to get stuck down one again, as he had yesterday and the day before, she wondered, "What would happen if a charming rogue, such as Jack Sparrow, met up with a white witch? Not someone like Hermione in the Harry Potty books, someone more like Yoda in Star Wars – but prettier? A good witch, who had the Craft. She can't do magic, has no wand or spells, but she can summon a wind, or talk to her lover via telepathy - if he is not blocking her thoughts.

The author crossed the stream at the bottom of the cliff, that smelt suspiciously of things that were not fishy (or were fishy, in the dodgy sense of the word) and stepped onto the beach. Immediately she was almost knocked over by a blast from the wind and the dogs went haring off after those two seagulls that had been bugging them all week.

The tide was ebbing, the breakers all white-foam and rolling excitement. She walked along the wet sand, listening to the soundtrack of Pirates of the Caribbean, cursing because the earpiece kept falling out of her ear.

She had the beach to herself, even the seagulls had gone, although one of the dogs did find a dead crab.

Sitting on a rock she gazed out at the Spanish Main. Well, it was the English Channel really, but an author has a vivid imagination. It was not too difficult to picture the hot sun of the Caribbean, waving palm trees, the rich turquoise blue of the sea .... although it would have been easier if it had not rained again. Quickly, she switched to a different scene. The Florida reefs, 1715. Eleven Spanish galleons went down in a storm, laden with treasure.

What if... what if.... her mind was racing, her heart beginning to thud with excitement. What if there was a 12th ship that went down? A pirate ship? A ship that a young, handsome rogue had just commandeered? His first captaincy ... he survived the storm, would want to get another ship as soon as possible.... he had a brother, a half brother, who had bullied him as a child... a brother who had burnt his only possession, a boat called ...... called..... Acorn! Yes, boats were made from oak ... yes, Acorn! The Author was getting REALLY excited now! The boy - for he was only a boy then ... fled the Virginia tobacco plantation and became a pirate.

He had a few adventures, got rich on plunder, but was, underneath all the swagger and pretence, lonely. It was alright having whores crumpets and strumpets, but there was also the horror of the hangman's noose dangling over him. Then one day ... one day he meets a girl. He was in deep trouble, wounded and being chased by East India Company agents and this girl... no, not a girl ... the white witch ... rescues him. They fall in love, but he misses the sea. Because of ... er, because of (the author decided to think of a ‘because of’ later) because of dah di dah happening, there is a mix up. The pirate assumed the girl didn't love him any more. And the girl, who was really a white witch, thought the pirate didn't love HER anymore. So they were both very miserable for a few months. The pirate found solace in a rum bottle (as pirates do) and the girl gave in and married the rich creep who had been pestering her all this time.

Then the pirate's brother caught up with him (very annoyed because the pirate had stolen his ship - one that happened to be full of tobacco to be taken to England to be sold)

The author's backside was getting a bit numb, so she moved to a softer rock, but found that the cushioning sea weed was wet, so walked on up the beach instead.

The annoyed bully brother is in league with the creep who married the girl... Tiola! the author thought, her name is Tiola. Tiola what? The author kicked at a piece of drift wood, cursed in true pirate fashion. There was a rock behind the piece of wood that she hadn't seen. Tiola is a good witch, she is all that is good... a.l.l. t.h.a.t. i.s. g.o.o.d ... an anagram! An anagram of ... furious muttering .. an anagram of Tiola Oldstagh. Yes! Only it will be pronounced Tee-la not Te-OH-la.

The author walked on, she was nearing the far side of the bay now, and the tumble of rocks that were full of fossils and things. Or so the guide books said. She was blowed if she could find one.

The annoyed bully brother is in league with the creep who married the girl Tiola. The two men are plotting to capture the pirate and have him hanged - Captain Woodes Rogers, a real figure in history, has just become Governor of Nassau and is offering a pardon to all pirates. The two bad men arrange to meet at Nassau, guessing that the pirate will turn up, looking for amnesty. Which he does - but the bully brother nabs him & chains him up in the bilge of a ship & heads off back to Virginia where he has promised the other man that he will hang ... only the bully brother has no intention of hanging the pirate, he wants to have his fun first and punish the pirate for stealing his ship.
Tiola is a witch and she loves her pirate. She tells the baddie who is her (forced) husband to go jump in a lake and boarding the pirate's ship (which he has called Sea Witch) sets off in pursuit of her true love - having to conjure up a wind to do so .... meanwhile because the witch is a witch and because the ship is special, the girl and the ship sort of become one and .... and the author could see a small fantasy sub-plot coming here, something about Tethys, the goddess, the Spirit of the Sea who wanted the pirate for herself ....

The author was quite pleased, it seemed a good basic plot. Lots of character interaction, the chance to get to know these two young lovers, the boy meets girl, boy falls in love, boy loses girl then finds her again plot, but if Shakespeare could use it over and over ... not that the author was anywhere as good as Shakespeare, but she had five other books published and loads of people seemed to enjoy her writing style and the way she brought life into her characters and made them real ... and her fans particularly said she was good at creating loveable rogues.

So all she needed was her pirate.
She couldn't use Jack Sparrow (as much as she would like to use him!) ... she had reached the rocks, turned around. The wide sweep of the beach was deserted. The rain had washed away everyone who normally came to the beach of an afternoon. She looked at the wet sand where the tide was scurrying in with lace-edged patterns of foam. Saw a man standing there, twenty or thirty yards away. He was tall, rugged. Had an untidy chaos of curled, dark hair, with a few blue ribbons fluttering in the wind tied into it. He wore knee high boots, a faded coat and a three cornered hat. He was looking out to sea but he turned, grinned at her, showing the flash of two gold teeth. With his left hand, he took off his hat and with his right, gave the author a small, acknowledging salute.

An earring dangled from one ear... an earring shaped like an acorn.
"Hello Jesamiah Acorne," said the author.
(and I swear that is all true!)

The Books

Sea Witch: Being the First Voyage of Capt. Jessemiah Aciorne (Sea Witch Chronicles #1) / Amazon UK

Pirate Code: Sea Witch Series (Sea Witch Chronicles) / Amazon UK

Bring It Close: Being the Third Voyage of Capt. Jessemiah Acorne and the Ship, Sea Witch / Amazon UK

More from Helen Hollick

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Stuff and Nonsense: Three Web Previews

Book Giveaway!


Brandy Purdy's The Boleyn Wife won't be released untilJanuary 2010, but you can get a free, autographed book right away by visiting That's All She Read by the end of this week.

Check out the look of my new web site!


To see it live, just go to Nan Hawthorne, Historical Novelist

Facebook Fan Pahe for An Involuntary King


Visit the fan page and check out the stellar names you will find in the members list!

While you are there, click on the link to see a short slideshow illustrating the progress of the War in Affynshire, now being chronicled at An Involuntary Kintg: The Stories.

One Heckuva Terrific Book Trailer!

For Jeri Westerson's Crispin Guest Medieval Noirs.



Congrats, Jeri.. and the books are even better!

Plot Bunnies

I learned a new word today that only a novelist could really appreciate. Well, maybe a short story writer, too.

plotbunnies

Plotbunnies. Oh how I know about those! One of the most puzzling, most incomprehensible questions I have ever been asked as a writer is "But how do you come up with ideas to write about?"

How do I not come up with ideas?

Plot ideas are like harpies or mosquitoes or pesky musical earworms or other plaguing things. Plotbunnies can be very dangerous, even lethal. You are going along merrily with the execution of some terrific story idea and BAM! another one. A more intriguing one. One you just can't wait to pursue.

Sweep them under the bed as you will.. it's no use.

Wait! I just remembered! I can drag out a plotbunny for NaNoWriMo!

OK, OK, OK.... phew.

What Was It like to Live in the Early Middle Ages?

You know what it is like to go camping. How would you like to camp from the moment you are born to the moment you die?

1. You spend a lot of time outdoors because indoors there was very little light even at the best of times.

2. You are only warm and dry when the weather outside is warm and dry.

3. If something hurts, it keeps hurting until it heals. The efficacy of herbal medicine that you read of in historical novels is highly optimistic.

4. You break a tooth on the bits of millstone in the bread you eat.

5. You do not change your clothes very often at all.

6. You never go more than several miles from where you were born.

7. You do not hear about important events for weeks, months or even years.

8. If you do travel, you are out in the weather whether walking or on horse, If it rains you get soaked. The roads are narrow and muddy much of the time.

9. If your leave your loved ones or they leave you to live even a matter of leagues away, you hear very little if anything from or about them ever.

10. The food you eat is based on what is in season at the time or what could be preserved or stored. There is little variety.

11. You breathe in smoke from your fire day and night.

12. You probably have to deal with lice and fleas.

13. If you become pregnant you know you have a strong chance of dying in childbirth.

14. Just about everything you have you or someone in your family made by hand.

15. You never have any privacy.

The point of this list is not to disturb anyone's illusions, but simply to acknowledge differences that are easy to forget. It is likewise easy to forget that these conditions still exist in the world.

Feel free to add to this list.

Why & How I Teach with Historical Fiction

Borrowed shamelessly from Scholastic.

By Tarry Lindquist

Here's the story on historical fiction in my classroom: It illuminates time periods, helps me integrate the curriculum, and enriches social studies. Just take Amy's word for it. At the end of our westward-expansion unit, while modeling her journal entry after a fictional account we'd read, this fifth grader wrote: "Dear Diary, July 30, 1852: This journey has been heart-wrenching, thirst-quenching, and most of all, an adventure I will never forget." Blending stories into a study of history turns the past into a dynamic place.

Of course, historical fiction doesn't stand alone in my instructional program; even the best literature cannot address skills and processes unique to social studies that kids must learn. I have students balance fiction with fact, validate historical hypotheses with research. Historical fiction is the spice.

To help you build good fiction into your social studies program, below you'll find:

• Seven Reasons I Teach with Historical Fiction
• Fifteen Fabulous New Historical Fiction Books
• Is Pocahontas Real? Discovering Where History Stops and the Story Starts
• Seven Reasons I Teach With Historical Fiction: It piques kids' curiosity.

Read more.

I can certainly attest to the efficacy of historical fiction in engaging a child's imagination about history, people, geography, sociology, and more. In about 1957 I started watching the British television series, The Adventures of Robin Hood, sstarring Richard Greene and Alan Wheatly. Something in it either spoke to an inner reality for me or implanted that reality so permanently that I have never been the same. I knew those people, that time, these cultural metaphors. Or perhaps they took me over and drew me out of my own time and place to live in theirs.

I am coming full circle now that I am crowding sixty. With my relatively recent re-immersion in writing historical fiction that comfortable old world is becoming a reality to me again. This time around it is the more accurate Middle Ages that draws me. That's not really new, since my thirst for the world of characters like Robin Hood developed in my teens when my friend Laura and I started writing about the characters who people my novel, An Involuntary King. It was my desire to place that story in a time not already taken with historical facts that would refute my fiction that led me to set it before Charlemagne when I thought no one knew anything about what was going on in the world. Now I am thirsting for further facts, to engage my imagination in real history about an era, Anglo Saxon England, that I stumbled into decades ago.

Perhaps this is why I am not fond of unicorns, dragons, and wizards and not even of the goddess religion remake of the Middle Ages. I did not fall in love with a fantasy way back in 1957 but rather a real if fictionalized world that seemed so right to me. I am smart enough now to know the truth is grittier, but I am also adult enough and sensible enough not to be repulsed. Maybe Robin didn't really take showers in a waterfall, but so what? The time doesn't so much appeal to me as it is familiar to me. Warts and all.

I know a woman who though otherwise intelligent decries historical fiction as lying to unsuspecting readers about the past and its people. I could not disagree more. The fact is we don't really know every detail about their lives and their thoughts. By speculating, each historical novelist offers one possibility to consider. And that's where stirring children's imagination about the past through fiction comes in. When they wonder how Pocahontas may have lived, may have felt about the events and people in her life, they begin to empathize. If you can empathize with someone from another time, you can empathize with your contemporaries in different lands. And the Great Spirit knows how much we need more empathy.

How to Avoid Actually Writing your Book

1. Do some "research". Doesn't matter on what.

2. Check your email. It might be important.

3. Check out what the historical fiction blogs are talking about today.

4. Fin yet another social networking or author site and laboriously fill everything out. It's marketing, you know.

5. Start your dozenth blog. Don't laugh. That's at least how many I have.

6. Take a nap. You aren't awake enough to do any writing anyway.

7. Check your web site and blog stats. Be thorough! You might learn something valuable in the minutiae.

8. Read someone else's book. Tell yourself the review you write will interest people in your own book.

9. Give in to your guilt about procrastinating your housework.

10. Join NaNoWriMo. That will take care of procratinating on your work in progress for thirty whole days!

How do you procrastinate writing?

A Whimsical Interview with Helen Hollick

Helen Hollick is the author of the Pendragon's Banner Trilogy, the latest of which is book two, Pendragon's Banner. You can read a review of the book today at That's All She Read and a full treatment next week on Historical Novel Review.

In honor of the Pendragon's Banner blog tour, Ms. Hollick was kind enough to time travel to late tenth century Enlgand to meet with Kerrick Trevalyan, a Cornish harper of about sixteen summers, who will star in his own novel by Nan Hawthorne sometime in the hopefully near future.

Kerrick Trevalyan: God give you peace, Mistress Hollick. Thank you for letting me assk some questions about your book, Pendragon's Banner. You know my name is Kerrick Trevalyan. My father is the bard Morcant Trevalyan. We are both from Cornwall, Right now I live in Wintanceaster with my teacher, O'Quill. It's 985 AD for me.

Helen Hollick: Good day to thee young Master Trevalyan.

KT: I said I am Cornish. So was Arthur, right?

HH: Well not necessarily. Several places lay claim to Arthur – from Brittany to Scotland. I think of him more in the Summer Land – Somerset and the West Country, so called because, as you may know, it is literally summer land: in winter the land floods, so only the high ground of the hills and the Tor at Yns Witrin (Glastonbury) are visible. Arthur (if he existed – that fact is not certain) was British, and in pre-Saxon times, before Britain became known as Engla-lond – England – all the Country below Hadrian’s Wall was known as Britain. When the Saxons settled and gradually became dominant only the “edges” remained “British” and retained the original language, which would have been similar to Welsh. (The word Wealas iss English for “foreigner”!) Of course Cornish and Breton is also similar to Welsh!

KT: I like the stories about Arthur. I can't decide which is my favorite. Which is yours?

HH: Well young Master Kerrick, I would assume you like the tales of knights and daring-do exploits eh? In my stories I do not have knights, or the Holy Grail, or the round table. There is no Merlin, no Lancelot or Galahad, for these were stories from a time much later than the “real” Arthur would have existed. I decided to use the old, early tales about him, that set Arthur in the years 450-550 AD, as a post-Roman war lord.

My favourite scenes are some of the arguments Arthur has with Gwenhwyfar (they were great fun to write!) and those that bring back memories of when I was researching them. Any scene on Yns Witrin (Glastonbury Tor) for instance. I so remember standing up there one evening listening to the wind as it whispered through the grass. I also like Chapter 34 (page 166) the opening of a battle scene. I wrote the scene in my head while standing at the edge of the river, imagining the mist and Arthur’s men appearing out of the dawn…

Chapter 28 – page 138, sapped a lot of emotion from me, as this is one of the rare scenes when Arthur reveals his true self – his loneliness and vulnerability. The scene where Arthur was fishing totally drained me though, I was shaking when I finished it. I had stood by the River Wye as the sun began to set, watching the golden reflections…. Saw a kingfisher, heard something else plop into the water. It had been raining and the river was swollen, in flood. My daughter was with me, she would have been about five years old. I held her hand so very, very tight! Read the scene and you will know why.

KT: I read your book, Pendragon's Banner. I have never read a whole book before. How long does it take to write a book? Is it hard?

HH: Yes writing novels – especially ones as long as mine is hard. It takes a lot of dedication and determination to keep going. It took me about ten years to write what eventually became The Kingmaking and Pendragon’s Banner! Though I’ve got a bit quicker now. My novel Harold the King took two years to research and write. (This is about the Battle of Hastings in 1066 – you keep clear of those Normans Boy, they are a thoroughly rough lot!)

The first in my Sea Witch Series (called Sea Witch) about Pirates only took about four months to write. But then these stories are adventure fantasy, and while there is a lot of history in them (and the nautical references took a while to research) I write them more as fun rather than historical fiction. The nice thing about them though – as I made the hero, Jesamiah Acorne up, he does not have to die in the last scene as happens in most historical novels! He gets to live and star in the next book of the series!

KT: One thing puzzles me. Why does Arthur have such trouble with the
women in his life? I mean, he never really trusts them. They are always trying to trick him. How come?

HH: I wanted to make him – and Gwenhwyfar – into real people, people who laughed and loved and cried. People who became frustrated and had to deal with tragedy and “life”. It was also fun to write some of the women as “baddies” ! I love Winifred and Morgause – they are so utterly nasty!

Also, Arthur is a complex character, I saw him as someone who was always coming up against Trouble. I think you’ll find that he does trust Gwenhwyfar though – despite the fact that he often squabbles with her. He loves her very deeply.

KT: How come there is no Merlin in your book? I once heard Emrys and Merlin were the same person, but it doesn't seem like it in your book.

HH: Merlin was never a real person, he was invented by the writers of the Medieval tales of Arthur – there is no mention of him in the early “Welsh” stories. Some people say Myrddin (Welsh for Merlin) could mean “wise man” and several stories make him out to be a Druid.

I think your reference to Emrys and Merlin comes from Mary Stewart’s wonderful novels The Hollow Hills and The Crystal Cave – it was those books that set me onto liking Arthur in the first place!

I decided not to use Merlin though, as I wanted to write a “what might have really happened” story – so I set out to not use any magic or fantasy.

[Spoiler] KT: It is so sad what happens to all of Arthur's and Gwenhyfar's sons. It seemed like he was lucky because he has so many sons, but it just gets sadder. Will they ever have another son?

HH: Ah – be careful not to give the plot away to readers who have not started the book yet! Yes, there is another son. He is Medraut – perhaps you know him as Mordred? He will appear in book three – Shadow of the King – along with Arthur’s daughter, Archfedd.

KT: I like how you have the Romans gone but Ambroasius and some others
still think they are Romans. Why do they like Rome more than Britain? Why does Arthur not agree with them?

HH: It is easy for us, where we are in Time, to look back and wonder why the people of the 5th century did not realise that the Romans were never coming back, but in 450 AD those who had supported Rome must have clung on to the hope that the Empire would sort itself out and things would get back to “normal”. Don’t forget Rome ruled most of Europe – and Britain – for over four hundred years. People only knew the ways of Rome, they had no idea of anything else.

There must have been a lot of conflict between the Roman people, such as Ambrosius, and men like Arthur who welcomed the chance of independence.

KT: I understood how the British people were worried about the Saxons.
Arthur never knew, but they really did take over. The king of England is now Ethelred II. The only British people left in their own land are the Cornish. But I worry that the Saxons will take that over too. What do you think we will lose if the Saxons take everything over?

HH: I think you will be all right – the Cornish are a tough lot, aren’t you! And of course there are the Welsh, they remain safe from the Saxons for a while (although Harold Godwineson – later King Harold, did conquer Wales) It wasn’t until those Nasty Normans came on the scene in the form of Edward I that things started getting bad for Wales and Scotland. So don’t worry about the Saxons… it’s the Normans you will have to tell your grandchildren to be wary of!

KT: My grandmother believed in the Lady and the old gods. But I do
not. I am a Christian. Why doesn't Arthur become a Christian?

HH: Many soldiers preferred to believe in the god Mithras. In the 5th Century Christianity was still a very new, very young religion and the old faiths were still merging with it – it is from this period that we get the traditions such as Christmas, which was a Roman/pagan celebration feast of mid winter and Saturnalia. I did not want to make Arthur Christian as I wanted to get away from the later Medieval Tales of him, so to make him pagan seemed a natural choice. I also quite liked the few scenes where I blended Christianity with the Old Religion – the broach given to Arthur, for instance. The priest took the woman painted on it as the Madonna – Arthur thought she was the Lady.

KT: Is there really magic? My grandmother says there is, but I don't
want to believe her. Arthur doesn't even believe in God. Did he believe in magic?

HH: I suppose it depends on what you believe to be magic? I think to see a golden sunset, the stars in the sky, a new-born creature – animal or human – is surely magic? In modern times, science explains many things that people thought were magic, as does knowing the signs of nature. When Morgainne saw the birds rising from the lake she knew someone was coming. Or maybe she knew by magic?

KT: Do you like harp music? I play the harp. Shall I sing you a song about Arthur?

HH: Yes I like harp music. Thank you, I would enjoy listening to a song very much!

KT: I want to read your first book about Arthur. What is it called?
Where can I get it? When is the third book coming out? Is that all you ever get to do, write books? You must spend all your time writing.

HH: The first book is The Kingmaking – Arthur is a young boy, a little younger than you, at the start. Book three, Shadow of the King is due for publication in March 2010 – although it is available in a different edition from the UK if anyone can’t wait!

I spend most of my time writing, yes, or promoting them on the magic machine that is called a computer! At the moment I am working on the fourth book in my adventure fantasy pirate-based Sea Witch Series.

KT: How did you decide which stories about Arthur you would keep in
your book and which you would throw out?

HH: I used most of the early Welsh tales – none of the later Medieval ones. For the rest, I had to decide what fitted and what did not – that is the art of writing.

KT: Have you ever met a king? My master, O'Quill, has. He met Ethelred and also the High King of Tara. That is pretty exciting, isn't it?

HH: I haven’t actually met a King – or a Queen, but I have seen Queen Elizabeth II quite close up. She’s quite small in real life – not much taller than 5’ and is a very, very nice lady,. She has a lovely smile.

Incidentally another of my novels – A Hollow Crown – is about Aethelred’s Norman wife, Emma. She was married to him in the year 1002, and was to give him a son, Edward, who was later called the Confessor.

KT: 1002? That is really soon... and he has a different wife now! I better not tell anyone.

HH: Thank you for talking to me Master Kerrick, I have enjoyed meeting you.

KT: (Giggles, then blushess because he giggled.) It was really interesting. I don't know if we can get your book in the tenth century, but I will try to find out. (Whispers) I will sing you a song now, but can I ask a question? What is a "knight"?

Thanks for being such a good spot, Helen! Nan

Anglo Saxon Friendship Bracelet, from ShowMe

Reprinted without permission from ShowMe, a UK kids' educational site. Please visit the site for full illustrations.

Anglo-Saxons were really good at weaving and embroidery. Many beautiful examples of material, clothes and belts have been found. One of the ways they used to decorate their clothes was by plaiting or braiding coloured thread.

Their jewellery and other metalwork was often decorated with patterns that looked like braids or plaits too.

Braiding is really easy to do. It's fun, and with a little practice you can get really beautiful results. Your friends will love getting presents that you've made yourself.

You will need:

Silk embroidery thread, wool or leather cord
Scissors
Sticky tape

The very easiest plait is one with three threads, but you're all too clever for that so here's how to plait with five.

Start off by cutting five lengths of your thread. Try to make them all about the same length.

Take one end of each piece of thread and tie them together with a simple knot.

Now tape the knotted end of your threads to a tabletop or any clear, steady surface where you can do your plaiting.

Lay the threads out flat in front of you, like in our picture.

Start with one of the outer threads, it doesn't matter which side.

Cross it over the two threads next to it and into the middle.

Now do the same with the outer thread from the other side.

That's all you do! Keep going, always crossing the outer threads over into the middle and remembering to swap sides each time. Remember as well to tighten the plait each time you cross over - pushing the plaited section gently up to the last plait each time.

Try to keep the plait smooth and even as you go.

There you go, easy isn't it? When your plait is long enough, or you get to the end of the threads, tie a knot again to keep the plait in place.

Untape the plait and tie the two ends together to make your bracelet.

You'll find that the more you plait, the easier it gets.

It's fun to experiment with different colours and different numbers of threads. Beads look pretty threaded on to bracelets as well.

As you plait, spare a thought for those Anglo-Saxons, plaiting just like you (apart from the sticky tape of course) hundreds of years ago. Do you think they made bracelets for their friends too?

Alert for Book Bloggers: Disclose or Pay!

The Federal Trade Commission will soon demand you pay a fine if you do not reveal the source of any book you review on your blog.

Most everyone I know is a book blogger. That is, we review books on our blogs, sell books on our blogs, or otherwise serve as a means of disseminating infromation about books on our blogs.

If you are among this group in the U.S., you will be subject to regulation by the Federal Trade Commission starting December 1, 2009. The FTC has announced that on that date blogs edited by individuals must disclose where they got the book or other product of which they make a favorable assessment.

This all started because people complained about bloggers who were rewarded with electronics, trips, other goods in exchange for praising those things. The principle is that readers should know whether a recommendation is made by a disinterested blogger, that the blogger really does like the product and even so, if he or she gets any compensation, no matter what it is, by the product's seller. For book bloggers that means books.

The trouble is that this is how book blogging works. An author or publisher contacts me, for instance, and asks if I'd like to review a new book. If I agree, they send me a copy of the book. What I do with the book after I write and publish my review is of no interest to the author or publisher who sent it to me. It is, after, now a used book and not worth to them to resell it. The book is mine now. ASccording to the FTC I have therefore received compensation for my review.

In an interview with the FTC's Richard Cleland on Edward Champion's Reluctant Habits blog, Champion challenged Mr. Cleland to explain why a reviewer in a slick magazine or city newspaper did not have to reveal where he got a book but individuals who voluntarily blog about books and other media must.

“We are distinguishing between who receives the compensation and who does the review,” said Cleland. “In the case where the newspaper receives the book and it allows the reviewer to review it, it’s still the property of the newspaper. Most of the newspapers have very strict rules about that and on what happens to those products.”

So what can you do to avoid having to reveal whether you received the book from the publisher or author? "You can return it." I guess I should just delete the ebooks I review?

I find myself wondering about my medieval-novels.com website and its accompaying blog, That's All She Read. They are based on a very sspecifgic relationship of compensation between me and Amazon Associates. Every book sold through any of my blogs and that site come from Amazonm and I get a referral fee. I will have to make this crystal clear on everything I publish related to this.

I also wonder what my responsibility is if I provide a link to someone else's blog where they recommend a book without disclosing? My Historical Blogs: Fiction & Fact is nothing but that.

I am not necessarily objecting, though if I were I would not be alone. Book bloggers are shouting from the virtual rooftops, "UNfair! Unfair!" They feel, as one writer who commented on Champion's blog expressed the regulations show a remarkable ignorance about blogging in heneral and book blogging in particular.

No, my purpose here is to inform you all that starting December 1st you must reveal to your readers whether a book or other media you review was given to you by the author or publisher and if you intend to keep or sell it. If you do not, you are subject to being fined for each instance.

I intend to add my disclosures. As it happens, most of the books I review are ones I either took out of the library or bought, but as I become known as a reviewer and particularly ince I joined the august crew at Historical NOvel Review, that will change. The last three books I read to review the author or publisher sent me. In my case, they sent electrnic files but I assume that makes no difference. I wonder if some of the puclishers books I didn't so much like will want their conpensation back.

As to my links to books on Amazon, you can count on it I plan to be upfront about that. Consider yourself informed, and not for the last time, that any book on any blog I own, such as this one, That's All She Read, Today in Medieval History, etc.m that has a link to Amazon.com or Amazon.co.uk is a compensated link. They will eventually send me a small referral fee for the mention and link.

If there are any developments regarding the new FRV regulations that I hear before you do, I will let you know.

More on This

Federal Trade Commission Guides to the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising

Kerrick Tells a Ghost Story

On Ghostletters every year one of our stalwart members, David Webb, in the persona of Sam Malone, bar owner extraordinnaire, extends an invitation to all to come to Cheers and have a free drink.. if they tell a ghost story. We have had any number of interesting ghost stories, from kings and demons and even the Vice President of Hell. Here is Kerrick's offering. Do come join us on Ghostletters, won't you?

"But how do we get there?" Kerrick Trevalyan examined the scrap of parchment his harp master, O'Quill, had handed him, saying something about an invitation to a feast of some sort.

O'Quill shrugged. "Walk into Leofwen's alehouse and imagine we are walking into this other place of libation?"

The boy considered the Irish bard. "I guess that is as good a way as any. The worst that can happen is that we just go where we live anyway." He glanced at the parchment again. "Are we supposed to bring anything?"

O'Quill, fortyish, starting to spread a bit in the midriff, his dark hair unkempt, shook his head. ""It says the drinks are free, so it does, and I think that means we do not need any money. Good thing, too, as quite skint I am and have been for some time. D'ye have any yourself yourself?"

Kerrick frowned. "I do. But I need it. Do we take the harps?"

Pulling himself up to his not considerable height, the man said disgustedly, "I shall not be parted from my dear one, lad, and well ye know it."

The boy, his own hair a mousy brown, his eyes dark and shining, and his harp carved with arcane symbols. shrugged. "When do we go?"

With a Bill & Ted shake of his head, O'Quill replied, "Now then, how about now?" He hefted his harp, took Kerrick's elbow, and advance with him to the animal skin that served as a door to the alehouse where no one knew its name. He lifted the skin, and they, in unison, stepped through.

The two men from the tenth century stepped into a place like neither had ever beheld before. They seemed to be in a large room, paneled in wood, with wooden tables and chairs, a shining counter, and colorful lamps that glowed with a brighter light than any candle. People were
scattered about, some at the counter, some at tables, and a few standing.

"Don't bother, they're here," a woman wearing an abbreviated apron muttered.

In the room there was a distinct odor of malted beverages. "Ah, the sweet perfume of the best of alehouses," O'Quill cried rapturously. He propelled Kerrick to the bar,a s he later learned the counter was called.

"Hey, I gotta card you, kid," Woody called to Kerrick.

"Forget it, Woody. "The kid is either over a thousand years old or doesn't really exist." He extended his hand to shake. "You are our first guests from the Spiritual Telegraph. Welcome to Cheers! I'm Sam Malone."

"Malone is it? A fine Irish name, as is me own, O'Quill," the harp bearing multicolored clothing wearing Irishman declared.

Sam shook his hand. "Is this your son?" he asked, indicating Kerrick.

O'Quill considered the boy a moment. "One never knows, does one?" he grinned.

Kerrick had blushed. "No, I'm not. I'm Kerrick Trevalyan. I am from a small town in Cornwall."

Norm joked, "Oh thank God. When you came in with those harps, I thought you were angels and my time was up."

Sam quipped back, "When that time comes, the messengers will have pitchforks, not harps."

Norm raised his glass in a toast of agreement.

O'Quill was looking around. "Now then, was it a drink you were offering, my lad?"

Carla interjected, "Do you plan to tell a ghost story? The drinks are only for people.. and other things.. that tell stories."

O'Quill settled his gaze on Kerrick, "This lad sees the departed, my darlin', so he can tell you all the tales your heart desires."

Cliff asked, "You SEE ghosts? Really?"

Kerrick's blush had deepened. He frowned at his master. "Well I do not like for everyone to know. It's a curse."

O'Quill shook his head, "Indeed not, lad. 'Tis a gift." He cast his eyes about the group around the bar and explained, "He has it from his old grandma, so he does, but he is ashamed of old dearie. So sad."

"Shame on you, kid," Carla rebuked.

Kerrick whined, "I am not ashamed of her. I just do not like to... oh, hell. Let me catch my breath and I will tell you a story.."

Our story is interrupted by the arrival of a Hessian soldier who proves to be both that and a severed head.

The boy in early medieval garb took a deep breath. he was about to start telling his story when some kind of soldier came int he door and proceeded to tell his own story. kerrick was nervous, so he was glad of the interruption. When the man ook off his head and set it on the bar, he jumped behind O'Quill in fright.

O'Quill bowed and saluted to the man and the head. "Joy to ye, lads," he said jauntily. "Now where did that boy get to? Oh there you are."

Woody asked, "It's just a ghost. I thought you said you see them all the time."

Kerrick stammered, "Aye, I do, but they are always still all put together."

"C'mon, kid, tell us your story," Norm prompted.

"Well, all right," the boy said, eying the head warily.

This happened when I was still living in Cornwall. In fact, I was still a child. I used to go for long walks in the countryside. My grandmother was in charge of me, and she made me uncomfortable so I would slip away to get away from her.

"There ya go with that grandmother bit," Carla complained, having reappeared from the back room. "What was your problem with your poor old Nana, you little twerp?"

Kerrick looked offended. "I don't know what a twerp is, but aren't you being rather rude? I didn't like how my grandmother always talked to me about spirits and demons and little people and that sort of thing. The more I heard the more I felt like I could see the things too. I didn't want to, that's all." He gave Carla a defiant look.

"Well, why didn't you just say so," she responded in a sarcastic voice. She turned and Kerrick could just hear her muttered, "Twerp."

Sam glared at Carla's back. "Go ahead, kid," he prompted.

Kerrick began again.

Like I said, I would get out and wander the countryside. One time I came across a little brook near a standing stone. A little boy was playing there. He was dirty and his clothes were in shreds. He had a black eye and he didn't look like he got enough to eat. I hailed him. He looked scared and started to run away. I had some bread and cheese
with me, so I reached into my pouch and held the bread out to him. He hesitated and then started to inch back. he was too hungry to run but too scared to come close. So I went to the brook, slipped off my shoes, sat with my feet in the water and started to eat. I pretended he wasn't even there.

Well, that worked. I could hear him coming closer and he finally plopped down next to me. I offered him the bread, and he took it and wolfed it down ravenously. I brought out the cheese and gave it to him too. i figured I could get all needed, but this might be the last time he ate for a while. I sat with him for a while until he had eaten all I gave him. Then I asked him his name. He said, "Merryn." I asked him where he lived and he just shrugged. Then I asked him who hit him and blackened his eye. He looked really scared.

I changed the subject and he calmed down. I asked him if he played there often, and he nodded. I told him i would come back in a couple of days with more food.

I did. I came two days later and then several more times. The more time we spent together the more he came to trust me. He finally whispered in my ear, though there was no one around, that I should come with him and he would show me who had hit him. I let him take my hand and lead me through the fields and the woods. We came to a run down cottage. As soon as we got there I heard a child's scream from inside the cottage, then a man's loud voice. "That's my da. He is mad at my sister, Karenza. I am afraid he will do to her what he did to me."

I was really angry. In fact, I wasn't really thinking straight. I bunched up my fists and ran into the hut. It took some time for my eyes to get used to the dimness inside, but when I could see I couldn't understand what i saw.

"What was it?" Woody asked anxiously. "Was the bastard beating up the little girl?

"Nay. There was an old man, aye, but no little girl. There was an old woman though. She had a club in her hand and was about to strike the old man. He cried out to her, 'Karenza, no!"

I looked at the woman who was beating the very old man. I asked, "Are
you the grandmother of the boy and the girl, Merryn and Karenza?"

She had been glaring at me. Now she sneered. "I am no one's grandmother. My name is Karenza. My brother's name was Merryn. At least it was until this bastard beat him to death." I looked at her and then at the old man. She went on, "You just stay out of this, boy. This old man deserves his beating and more."

I didn't understand. How could the old woman be Merryn's sister? I went back out into the yard, but Merryn was gone. I called to him, but he did not answer. At last the old woman came back out. "Are you still snooping about?" I told her I was looking for Merryn. She shook her head. "I will take you to him." She set out through the woods and across the fields with me tailing not far behind. We ended up at the same brook near a standing stone where I had met Merryn. She stopped and pointed a bony finger at the spot where we had sat and he ate the food I brought. "The brook is fuller than it was then. Our da, after he killed him buried Merryn just there. Now be off with you.

"Did you ever go back to the spot?" Carla asked, drawn into the story.

"I did. many, many times. Every time I went there I left a little bread or cheese. I suppose the animals that lived nearby got it, but I like to think ;he did. Even the dead deserve our kindness. maybe more even than the living."

Kerrick sighed and smiled.

"Now how about that drink?" O'Quill said, leaning in to the bar.

Sam protested, "The kid told the story. He gets the drink."

"But he's a kid! he's under age." Norm said just as O'Quill was about to make some retort.

"Exactly what I was after sayin'. The lad's under age. It's a barbarcx notion, but it's true so he is. But we can't waste the drink now can we? So hand it over, my good man, and thanks."

Sam looked at Kerrick. "That was a good story, kid. And it really happened, huh?" he nodded to Woody to draw O'Quill a Guinness.

"Aye, it really happened."

"Give the kid a soda or somethin', Woody," Sam said.

Carla leaned towards Cliff and whispered, "You realize a fictional character just told Sam his story really happened, don't you." She sniggered and went over to take the orders of some new people who had come in.

FINIS

About Ghostletters

Creative writing at its most engaging.

Ever wondered what Sherlock Holmes might have to say to Pippi Longstocking? Or General George Patton to one of the earliest members of the Irish Republican Army? Or Albert Einstein to the Vice President of Hell? Ghostletters is where just those conversations can take place.

Each member portrays one or more historical, fictional or original characters, through email posts to the group or through storytelling of the narrative kind. For writers this is a unique opportunity to explore characterization. For anyone creative this is an opportunity to have some bona fide fun!

We have been around since 1995 and have boasted some redoubtable writers in our membership.. and we have had a hoot, pure and simple.

Feel free to join to read for a while before you declare a character or characters. Get to know us first, then jump in when you want to.

Join at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ghostletters/.

You Were Looking for WHAT?

When Susan Higginbotham does her semi-monthly list of search terms that landed the unwary on her blog, Medieval Woman: Blogging with Historical Fiction Writer Susan Higginbotham, she always gets a good belly laugh from me.. and everyone else who reads them. And it reminds me to go check my own. So at the risk of looking like I ripped a leaf out her one of Susan's books, here goes.

gay medieval clipart

You mean, pictures of Piers Gaveston?

anglo saxon riddle of a radio

Um, I am pretty sure there wasn't one!

nan hawthorne sarah junkin

Well, you found one of us.

villains in the 10th century

It depends whose side you were on, but I suppose: Athelstan, King of East Anglia, Queen Alfthryth who murdered her saintly stepson Edward the Martyr, Sveyn Forkbeard... Or did you mean villeins?

mahayana Split Croatia

Does this mean my site was the top one in the world with the word "split" in it? Cuz I can be reasonably confident the other two words are not.

booking shaggy

For what? Failing to curb Scoobydoo?

etiquette middle ages

Always be sure to say "Excuse me" before you hack off anyone's head.

origins of the word hawthorn

Sorry, best I can do is the origin of the person Hawthorne.

nan hawthorne medieval

Yea verily, damn straight!

---

Trying to Focus: Not Just for Eyesight Any More

You'd think I'd be used to having trouble focusing. Since the part of my eyes that is missing is the part that focuses, that is. But my eyes aren't to blame for once.

OK, now I'm jazzed. I got my "issues" with my paranormal mystery dealt with, and I am ready to go. So why amn't I going??? I wrote Chapter 1 and half of Chapter 2... I know what happens next. Sheesh.

I have had my tendency to overcommit pointed out to me recently... with good cause. The trouble is that all these tools I can use on the Internet are like the Sears Christmas toy catalog was to me as a kid. The difference is, Daddy can't say no to anything any more.

Don't get me wrong, I love all this anal stuff, like creating blog lists, book lists, answering idiotic questions on Yahoo Answers, having my fictional characters tell ghost stories at the Cheers bar on Ghostletters, reading, writing reviews, looking up dates in history, writing about waycool women of history, uploading Celtic music to me radio station... (Well, I would hardly call of those anal.) That's the problem.. My life is just too much fun.

I thought maybe if I blogged about this I would get with the program. NOT. It's just another way to do something easier than writing a novel.

OK, confession over, Mia Farrow, Mia Farrow, Mia maxima Farrow.

Off to write now.. Maybe not. My butt hurts from sitting in my desk chair too long.

Sigh.