Elizabeth Hawksley: Writing Tips # 11

Recipe: how to write that scene you’ve been putting off for ages.

Every now and then I come up against what I call the Scene of Doom. It’s a long and complicated scene which, for some reason, I’m simply dreading writing. You’d be amazed how clean and sparkling the house becomes, how the buttons I’ve failed to sew on for months are suddenly done, how tidy my study desk looks.

 

Elizabeth Hawksley

The worst example was in The Belvedere Tower. It was my ninth Elizabeth Hawksley novel and, by that time, I was much more confident about my writing. The Scene of Doom was at the end of my penultimate chapter when the important Poaching strand came to a head – if only I could write it.

 

The Belvedere Tower

This is the poaching strand situation:
My hero, Daniel, a wealthy northern businessman, has bought a run-down estate in Surrey. His gamekeeper, Uzzell, an outwardly respectable man, is secretly in cahoots with a London gang (comprising the vicious Gold Teeth and his side-kick, Moley) and selling the estate’s game on the black market. Uzzell pins the blame for the scarcity of game on the blacksmith Sam Wright, and his two sons, Phineas and Barty. Daniel has discovered the truth but he knows that Uzzell must be caught red-handed if he’s to be charged successfully.

 

A Victorian Poacher: James Hawker’s Journal

The Scene of Doom:

     1.  Place: the charcoal burner’s hut in a wood near the London Road where Uzzell  

          stores the game. Daniel and Sam hide nearby: they will deal with Uzzell. Phineas

          and Barty hide on the other side of the road to await the cart: they’ll disable the cart

          by unharnessing the horse. I hadn’t a clue how to deal with Gold Teeth and Moley.

2.      Gold Teeth and Moley arrive and Barty unhitches the cart. 

3.      Uzzell and Gold Teeth quarrel over money – Uzzell has a gun. The transfer of game
        to the cart goes ahead. Phineas coshes Moley and ties him up.

4.      Nelly, Uzzell’s fragile wife, has premonitions of disaster and sets out towards the hut.

5.      Gold Teeth realizes Moley is missing and that the cart is uncoupled. He yells.

6.      Uzzell flees into the woods and gets out his gun.

7.      Nelly lurches towards the hut.

8.      Daniel and Sam struggle with Uzzell and overpower him. The gun goes off.

9.      Gold Teeth fights Phineas and Barty. He’s captured but Barty is badly hurt.

10.    Nelly has been shot and is dying. Sam drives his sons back to the smithy, plus the
        prisoners – who will go in his cellar. Daniel stays with Mrs Uzzell.

11.    The dying Mrs Uzzell tells of a strongbox underneath the flags in her cottage. She
        dies. Loose ends are tied up.

Facing writing all this felt like climbing Everest. I didn’t even have it in order in my head. All I knew was that Daniel needed to come good and realize, finally, who was to be trusted, and he had to get involved with the fighting – he gets off with cuts and bruises and a cracked rib, but he’s shown his mettle. From now on, the villagers are on his side. For other reasons, I needed Barty to be badly hurt – but to recover.

And I was longing to write the love scene in the final chapter.

 

Horse’s harness from Self-Sufficiency by John and Sally Seymour

In desperation, I decided to write whichever scene looked easiest – which was the Mrs Uzzell leaving her cottage scene, followed by the London gang’s arrival where Barty unhitches the cart (thanks to the above picture). It was a bit like putting together a jigsaw; inevitably, the scenes had to be juggled around. Gradually, everything linked up and Everest shrank to a climbable hill.

In the last chapter, Daniel gets together with my heroine Cassandra, and the other plot strands are sorted satisfactorily. And I was able to send off the completed typescript.

 

The Gamekeeper at Home and The Amateur Poacher by Richard Jefferies

So, my advice boils down to this. Don’t be frightened of writing a scene out of sync. If it helps to unblock you, that’s all that matters. Yes, you may have to do a lot of tweaking and cutting and pasting, but at least you’ll get the scene done.

I hope it works for you.

Photographs:

Elizabeth Hawksley by Sally Greenhill

All other photographs by Elizabeth Hawksley

Elizabeth Hawksley

Season of Mists

I love autumn, so much so that I have just republished one of my early Melinda Hammond books, Autumn Bride, with a fresh new cover!  This book is set on the tidal estuary of the Bristol Channel and a big part of the story is the high tides that accompany the turning of the year, which is why the cover features a turbulent sea.

However, I now live many miles from South West of England, high on the Pennines. Here we get such lovely autumn days that I wanted to share some of them with you. Clear skies bring the mist. Overnight it fills the valleys below us and leaves the  hills in glorious sunshine. However, some days we wake to a mysterious world where everything is shrouded in a thin, silvery mist and the sun glints through the trees.

This year there has been a good crop of blackberries in the hedgerows, and it reminded me of a scene from my latest Sarah Mallory novel – The Chaperon's Seduction. My heroine, Phyllida, goes blackberrying and finds herself paired up with the rakish Richard Arrandale, the man she is trying to avoid! I wrote this story last year, soon after I had made my own foray into the lanes to pick blackberries. I came back with fingers stained from the juice and with more than a few scratches. I was thankful for my strong waxed jacket to protect me from the sharp brambles – how much more careful would Phyllida and her friends have to be, dressed in their fine cottons and muslins.
Here is a short extract:-
 

***

‘Oh!’

A thorn had penetrated the soft kid of her glove and pierced her finger.

‘Keep still.’

Richard was at her side immediately and she found it impossible to remain silent.

‘I fear I have no choice but to obey,’ she told him. ‘The thorns have caught at my sleeve.’

He stepped closer and she was painfully aware of the hard wall of his chest against her back. Her mouth dried, he filled her senses. She breathed in the masculine smell of him, the mix of soap and leather and an indefinable hint of musky spices. Surely she was imagining the thud of his heart against her shoulders, but she could feel his breath on her cheek and she trembled.

‘Steady now.’

One hand rested on her shoulder while the other reached past her to lift away the offending thorny tentacle.

‘There, you are free.’

Free? How could she be free when her whole body was in thrall to him? When he was so close that she could feel the heat of him on her back? Phyllida shook off the thought and carefully withdrew her arm from the briars. When Richard removed his hand from her shoulder she felt it immediately, a yearning chill and an emptiness that was almost a physical pain. She stepped back and turned, only to find that he was close behind her, less than a hand’s width away, his broad chest and powerful shoulders filling her view, like a cliff face. She was distracted by detail, the fine stitching of his exquisitely tailored blue coat, the double row of buttons on his pale waistcoat, the snowy folds of linen at his neck. The hammering of her heartbeat thrummed in her ears. Surely he must hear it, see how shaken she was? She tried to speak lightly to divert his attention.

‘Thank you, sir. I fear I could not have extricated myself without ruining this gown.’

She stretched her cheeks into a smile and looked up, confident she could ask him calmly to let her pass, but her gaze locked on to his mouth and the words died in her throat as she studied the firm sculpted lips. She was distracted by imagining how they would feel on her skin. She swallowed, forced her gaze upwards but that proved even more dangerous, for his blue eyes held her transfixed. She was lost, unable to move. She could no longer hear the skylark’s distant trill, nor the laughing voices of those picking berries further along the hedgerow. The world had shrunk to just the two of them. Anticipation trembled through her when he ran his hands lightly up her arms and the skin beneath the thin sleeves burned with his touch. His fingers came to rest upon her shoulders, gently pulling her towards him as he lowered his head to kiss her. She made no effort to resist. Instead her chin tilted up and her lips parted instinctively as his mouth came closer.

It was the lightest contact, a slight, tantalising brush of the lips, but Phyllida felt as if a lightning bolt had struck her, shocking her, driving through her body and anchoring her to the spot. She kept her hands at her sides, clenched into fists to prevent them clinging to him like a desperate, drowning creature. She found herself straining upwards, trying to prolong the contact but it was over almost as soon as it had begun and as he raised his head Phyllida felt strangely bereft. The kiss had been the work of a moment, but it had shaken her to the core and she struggled to find a suitable response.

‘You, you should not have done that.’

There was a faint crease at one side of his mouth, the merest hint of a smile.

‘No one saw us.’

That was not what she meant at all, but it brought her back to reality. The thorny brambles were at her back so she sidestepped, breaking those invisible threads that had held her to him, even though it was like tearing her own flesh to move away from him. Distance gave her the strength to think properly again.

‘I did not mean that and you know it. Your behaviour was ungentlemanly, sir.’

‘You could have said no. You could have resisted.’

She scooped up the little basket and began to walk away.

‘I should not have had to do so.’

He laughed softly as he fell in beside her.

‘I believe I deserved some reward for rescuing a damsel in distress.’

She stopped, saying angrily, ‘What you deserve, sir—’

‘Yes?’

He was smiling down at her, sending her thoughts once more into disorder. Alarms clamoured in her head, it was as much as she could do not to throw herself at him and the glint in his blue eyes told her he knew it. With a hiss of exasperation she walked on.

‘You deserve to be shamed publicly for your behaviour.’

‘Ah, but the Arrandales have no shame, did you not know that?’

He spoke lightly, but there was something in his tone, a faint hint of bitterness that undermined her indignation. It could have been a ploy, a trick to gain her sympathy, but somehow she did not think so. With a sudden flash of insight she thought he was like a child, behaving badly because it was expected of him.

‘Oh, how despicable you are!’ she exclaimed. ‘I should be scolding you for your outrageous behaviour and instead—’ She broke off.

‘Yes?’ he prompted her gently.

I want to take you in my arms and kiss away your pain.

Phyllida was appalled. She had come very close to saying the words aloud. With a tiny shake of her head she almost ran the last few yards to where Mrs Desborough and Lady Wakefield were sitting under a large parasol.

The Chaperon's Seduction - Sarah Mallory. Harlequin June 2015

***

As a writer I often find myself writing "out of season" and I keep a list of the English sunrise and sunset times on hand, so that I can check up on the daylight hours. I also use pictures like the ones I have included here remind me of our changeable climate.  Sometimes writing about the heat of a summer's day can take quite a bit of imagination when the snow is falling outside!
 

The cool autumn weather makes it much nicer to stay indoors writing, and the longer nights are perfect for curling up in front of the fire with a good book.  So what do you like to read during the chilly winter evenings? Books about the summer, perhaps, or even hot, exotic locations.  Or maybe, like me, your thoughts are turning towards the winter, with holly berries, icicles and snow… do tell me!

Sarah Mallory/Melinda Hammond

Class conflict?

Hi, I'm Jo and I write aristocratic historical romance.

Yes, at times it feels as if I should be trying to overcome a habit, and I'm wondering what you feel about this. Is there something wrong about using upper class protagonists in a romance?

A bit of background, because I think it's relevant. I was born and raised in England, then in my late twenties I emigrated with my husband to Canada.

I became a romance novelist in Canada, but sold my books to New York, as that's where the romance publishers were, and America is where the bulk of today's romance readers are. In literary terms, America is my heartland, with Canada second, as aristocratic historical romance is very popular there, too. England is my homeland, but for some reason historical romance in general, and aristocratic historical romance in particular, seems to be a tiny market here.

This puzzles me, as I developed my reading and writing tastes growing up in England, enthusiastically using the public library. The first romance I remember reading was The Scarlet Pimpernel, and then I moved on to the wonderful Georgette Heyer, whose books are full of the nobility, wealth and the "ton." I remember other authors, such as Paula Allardyce and Alice Chetwynd Ley , both almost contemporaries of Heyer. I know there were others back then. Any other names come to mind? 

My first Heyer. The original copy.

So where did this British enjoyment of dashing, high society historicals go? Over to the States, obviously, where they flourished,  but why did they dwindle here? Why did so few British authors follow in the footsteps of Heyer, Allardyce et al? The obvious answer would be that publishers stopped publishing those books because the readers stopped buying them. Did they? If you're old enough, did you?

I can think of some other possible factors.

Alongside the historical romances of the mid 20th century ran the gothic romances. From excellent beginnings such as Rebecca and the novels of Victoria Holt, they became rather formulaic. They were popular, however, in Britain and North America, to the detriment of historical romance. In North America readers tired of them and embraced historical romance, with its much more varied settings, characters and storylines. Did the stranglehold work too well in Britain, leaving readers with a feeling that "historical romance" meant either the sweet Barbara Cartland style, or the gothic, with menacing men, and women with a tendency to go down into blood-soaked basements in their nighties?

Or did something happen in British society to mean that readers simply weren't interested in "toffs" anymore. Why then the popularity of Downton Abbey? It seems to me that most people enjoy some stately home and lords and ladies fantasy fun now and then, but perhaps I'm wrong.

No toffs, please. We're British?

Talking of stately homes, I'm part of a group anthology based on a glittering ball at a stately home in 1815. The characters range from a thief masquerading as a maid to the heir to an earldom, so there's something for everyone.

I'll give a copy of The Last Chance Christmas Ball to one of the commenters on this blog, randomly picked. So, British, American, Canadian or wherever, have your say.

Jo

Jane Austen's Emma, Governesses, and a New Book.

Jane Austen’s life was cut tragically short at the age of 41. If you’re a huge fan of her work, like me, then the six completed novels she finished, whilst perfectly demonstrating her genius, will never be enough. I’m always torn when it comes to deciding which is my favourite, and I love them all for different reasons. Pride and Prejudice and Persuasion vie for the top spot, but I also love Emma. This December will mark 200 years of its publication, and it was with this book in mind that I started to think about the present novel I’m working on.

Emma was written as Jane was beginning to be recognised as a talented writer, and whilst she was still not making much money from her writing she knew her work was being well received by critics and the public alike. Emma was her first heroine to be wealthy and privileged; perhaps living not far from her brother Edward’s house at Chawton and seeing first-hand the lives of his daughters, which were in great contrast to her own, gave her some of the inspiration for her writing.

Emma is portrayed as a match-maker and someone who thinks she understands human nature, including her own, and the joy of the book is discovering not only how far the truth is from her real understanding of the people around her, but also seeing her growth and the changes she makes as a character. Before she started writing Jane Austen wrote, ‘I am going to take a heroine whom no one but myself will much like …’ But, although there are traits of Emma’s personality that we may not like to start with, in the end we can forgive her mistakes, and it’s her faults that even help to make her likeable.

Chawton House where Jane's brother Edward lived

It's not possible in a short blog post to write everything that could be included about this wonderful book, but essentially Emma is a book about courtship and marriage, and we see how very different the prospects of the main female characters are dependent on their status in life. Emma is rich and she protests at the start of the novel that she doesn’t see the necessity of marriage, though she’s happy to meddle in other people’s relationships imagining that she’s helping to bring them along. She thinks she will be able to elevate the status of her young friend Harriet who is an illegitimate girl living in a nearby school. As the novel progresses we see her view of marriage gradually change. Austen uses charades very cleverly to show Emma’s misguided efforts to bring the wrong people together. When her friend Harriet declares an interest in a poor farmer, Emma can only persuade her to consider the vicar who has better prospects. Mr Elton presents a ‘courtship’ charade when Harriet is visiting which leads Emma to think he is serious in his regard for her friend. When Emma realises she’s been blind to the fact that Mr Elton is actually in love with her we understand that the charade was never meant for Harriet. The many misunderstandings concealed in charades and riddles keep us from guessing what is going to happen. It’s a book that hides its secrets with tremendous skill, and on first reading the revelations come one by one with wonderful surprises in store. A second reading cements all that was first discovered, and is just as revelatory as on the first. Every time I read it I discover something new. I don’t want to give anything away, but if you don’t know the book I promise you won’t be disappointed with all the twists and turns of the plot.

Olivia Williams as Jane Fairfax

Jane Fairfax is another character I want to mention. She is the only young woman that Emma envies, yet she is poor and is set to become a governess. Emma doesn’t like Jane Fairfax, but Jane Austen writes of her in glowing terms. Jane has all the traits and accomplishments that Emma feels she is lacking in herself. She is clever, beautiful, and is a talented singer and pianist. Jane Austen writes her character sympathetically, and I can’t help wondering if she ever worried that the fate of becoming a governess might befall her. As she comes to her own self-realisation, Emma thinks about the inequalities between women of independent means and those who are poor. The contrast between Mrs. Churchill’s importance in the world, and Jane Fairfax’s, struck her; one was every thing, the other nothing. 

Austen compares the lot of the governess to a form of slavery and we know she witnessed the life at first-hand. Her dear friend, Anne Sharp served as governess to Fanny Knight, Jane’s niece at Edward’s other house, Godmersham Park, Kent, from 1804-6. Jane sent a presentation copy of the three volume edition of Emma inscribed to her friend when they were published, and I can't help thinking that in some ways Emma is partly a tribute to the woman whom Jane revered. They remained good friends until Jane died.

At the end of Jane Austen’s life she wrote a poem called Winchester Races. Jane knew she was dying and though the poem is a reference to St. Swithin I’ve always been intrigued by these lines:

When once we are buried you think we are gone

But behold me immortal!

I can’t help wishing that even though she achieved immortality in her writing, that she could have found a way to be cured so she could write all the books she wished. And that’s what set me thinking about Emma, governesses, and a new book which will be published in November, Jane Austen Lives Again. Although Emma started as the inspiration for this book, I soon found other nods to Jane's novels creeping in - you'll find Persuasion, Sense and Sensibility, and Pride and Prejudice all making their influence known.

© Jane Austen Lives Again

When Jane Austen’s doctor discovers the secret to immortal life in 1817 she thinks her wishes have come true. But when Jane wakes up from the dead, she hasn’t reckoned on her doctor being a descendant of the original Dr Lyford or that it’s taken over a 100 years to perfect the process. Finding herself in 1925, a penniless Miss Austen must adjust to the Jazz Age, get herself a job, and discover the only one suitable is in the most dreaded of all occupations. Becoming a governess to five girls of an eccentric bohemian family at the neglected and crumbling Manberley Castle is not exactly her dream job, and Jane soon finds she’s caught up in the dramas of every family member. The children are not quite what she’s expected, and her employer, Lady Milton is at her wit’s end.  But Jane loves nothing more than a challenge, and now living in a new body half her real age, but with all the wisdom gained from a lifetime in the past, she resolves on putting the family in order. If only she can resist falling in love, her common sense and resolve will win the day and change the lives of them all!

Jane Odiwe 

How to Make Sense of Sensibility

by Monica Fairview

Funny how some terms become so slippery you can’t really grab hold of them. For us, sensibility immediately brings to mind the word “sensible,” which in fact doesn’t make any sense in the context of Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility, where the two obviously mean different things.

Have I got everybody sufficiently muddled? Just wait and see.

Here’s an explanation of what the word sensibility actually meant in Austen’s time taken from Wikipedia (what would we do without it?).

Sensibility refers to an acute perception of or responsiveness toward something, such as the emotions of another. This concept emerged in eighteenth-century Britain, and was closely associated with studies of sense perception as the means through which knowledge is gathered. It also became associated with sentimental moral philosophy… George Cheyne and other medical writers wrote of "The English Malady," also called "hysteria" in women or "hypochondria" in men, a condition with symptoms that closely resemble the modern diagnosis of clinical depression. Cheyne considered this malady to be the result of over-taxed nerves. At the same time, theorists asserted that individuals who had ultra-sensitive nerves would have keener senses, and thus be more aware of beauty and moral truth. Thus, while it was considered a physical and/or emotional fragility, sensibility was also widely perceived as a virtue.

Now, what do you make of that? Nothing like our own idea of being “sensible”, though perhaps the word “sensitive” might convey some of the meaning.

Why would I go into such detail about a single word? Because I think Jane Austen spent a lot of time trying to work out which quality is more desirable in her heroines – sense or sensibility? Clearly in the book of that title, she comes down heavily on the side of sense, with Elinor representing that quality and criticizing quite harshly the excessive sensibility of Marianne. Though ultimately, as readers we do tend to sympathize with Marianne. In other words, logically, we side with Sense, but emotionally we side with sensitivity.

In her other novels, the verdict isn’t quite so clear. The concepts are still at war, but JA presents things differently. In Pride and Prejudice Jane’s relationship with Bingley seems to represent sensibility more (particularly in the way she pines away), as does Elizabeth’s tossing aside a practical marriage with Collins because, as she claims, she’ll only marry for love. The one who uses the most sense is Charlotte, but the novel never quite accepts that common-sense approach. Mrs. Bennet, on the other hand, is a perfect example of “ultra-sensitive nerves,” but far from presenting this as a virtue, JA makes it the target of her satire. 

In Northanger Abbey, Catherine Moorland clearly manifests some aspects of sensibility, again parodied by JA, yet her intuitive feeling of something wrong at the Abbey does make sense, given the behavior of General Tilney.  

Persuasion is a tricky one. The extreme side of sensibility is represented by Mary, and it almost seems that the practical Anne is the opposite. But Anne is also the most sensitive of her family, the abler to understand nuances of behavior and the most emotional of them all. Since the novel is largely about choosing love over the “persuasions” of others, JA here clearly gives love the upper hand over rationality and social considerations.

As for Mansfield Park, it swings back in the direction of reason. Fanny is the reasonable one while everyone around her seems to be guided by their instincts. Even Edward succumbs to the irrational when temptation is thrown his way.

Emma, in some way, is a search for order and the rational in a world where everything seems chaotic. Emma sees herself as the sensible one capable of organizing everyone else’s happiness, but, like the trip to Box Hill, everything quickly becomes chaotic. I love the way riddles and puzzles play with this idea all the way through.

I’m the first to admit that I’m quickly developing a headache as I try to work myself through this. By the end, I’m not sure where I started. Is Jane Austen an advocate of sense or of sensibility? 

What do you think?

Monica Fairview is the bestselling author of Austen Sequels: The Other Mr. Darcy, The Darcy Cousins, and Austen Variations: Mr. Darcy’s Pledge, Mr. Darcy’s Challenge and The Darcy Brothers and the Neo-Victorian futuristic Steampunk Darcy as well as a Regency romance An Improper Suitor now in Regency Quintet: Summer Edition. 

The Cutty Sark Figureheads Collection: could this be Mr Darcy?

Recently, I visited the famous Cutty Sark tea clipper – something I’d been longing to do for years – where I came across the fascinating Sydney Cumbers Collection of ships’ figureheads. Mr Cumbers, born in 1870, was an avid collector of maritime artefacts dating from the 19^th century which he donated to the Cutty Sark in the 1930s. Most of the figureheads (from merchant ships) bear their ship’s names but there are a few where the provenance is unknown, including the first one which caught my eye.

Could this be Mr Darcy?

My first thought was: it’s Mr Darcy! The hair, with the long sideburns, dates from about 1813, as does the cravat. It’s the right date, and, of course, he just looks right.

Hiawatha

The selection of figureheads is interesting, and indicates a as a wide general knowledge on the part of those who named the ships. Some of the figureheads are from literature, like Hiawatha, dating it to around 1855 when Longfellow’s narrative poem on the American Indian hero was published and became a hit.

Diana

This is an unnamed classical female figure, who I think must be the Roman goddess Diana – she has a crescent moon in her hair which is one of Diana’s attributes.

Zenobia

There is also a figurehead labelled Zenobia, a powerful and ambitious woman who became Queen of Palmyra in 267 AD. Whoever named his ship after her was obviously a lover of the Classics.

Sir Lancelot (left) and Omar Pasha (right)

There are figureheads of literary heroes closer to home, too. Sir Lancelot, in his silver armour, somehow manages to look simultaneously both Medieval and Victorian. He, too, has a literary provenance: Alfred, Lord Tennyson’s Idylls of the King, a series of narrative poems telling the story of King Arthur, was immensely popular in the 1850s. Lancelot, who had sworn fealty to King Arthur, had an adulterous affair with Guinevere, King Arthur’s wife. Tennyson sums him up, unforgettably:

His honour rooted in dishonour stood,

And faith unfaithful kept him falsely true.

Next to Sir Lancelot is the dashing Omar Pasha (1806-71). He was born a Serbian Christian but converted to Islam and became famous as an Ottoman general, winning several spectacular victories over the Russians during the Crimean War. The Turks were British allies during the war and Omar Pasha was much admired.

Giuseppe Garibaldi (1807-1882)

Other foreign heroes are represented, too, for example the politician and fighter for Italian Unification, Giuseppe Garibaldi – another fine figure of a man.

Florence Nightingale (1820-1910)

Female contemporary heroines are not forgotten with Florence Nightingale, ‘the lady with the lamp’; a figurehead which, in my opinion, doesn’t do her justice.

Duchesse

The beautiful Duchesse is one of my favourites. Who was she? French, obviously, but who? I thought that she might represent a French royal mistresses, Madame de Pompadour, for example. But Madame de Pompadour was a marquise, not a duchesse; the figure doesn’t look like her, and her hair isn’t powdered, as la Pompadour’s hair would have been.

But, back to Mr Darcy. Alas, I doubt whether it is him; the figureheads of literary heroes are men of action, like Hiawatha. Could it be Lord Byron? He was certainly well-known (or notorious) enough and famous for his good looks as well as his poetry.

Any suggestions?

Elizabeth Hawksley

Photos by Elizabeth Hawksley

Visit a castle!

We can't all easily visit historic buildings, but the modern world is making it easier to explore in a virtual way. Check out this recreation in 3-D of ruined Holt Castle. It gave me a new feeling of what it would be like to visit it. Click here.

There's information here about a medieval castle in the building that you can actually visit.

Do you enjoy medieval fiction?

You can check out my medieval romances here. 

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Best wishes,


Jo
http://www.jobev.com