by Roseanna White | Apr 29, 2015 | Remember When Wednesdays
I’m in the first half a new book…which means that as I’m writing, I’m searching for lovely images to pin to my Pinterest board for this story. =) And ohmygoodness, I’m ready to move to the Cotswolds!
I’m so thrilled that I decided to set this book in this gorgeous region of England. =) That last photo there is Temple Guiting Manor, which I’m basing my hero’s home, Anlic Manor, on. Isn’t it just perfect???
But I’m still trying to nail down a good image for my hero. He has warm brown hair. Green eyes. And bears a resemblance to his cousin, the hero in book 1.
This is the cousin, an actor I realized was perfect for him when I watched the new Chronicles of Narnia movies. And I love that he’s now in a new show (The Royals…which I have no interest in watching, LOL), so there are tons of pictures of him as a twentysomething rather than a teen. =)
 |
This is William Moseley as a prince in The Royals
Not a bad look for the Duke of Stafford either. 😉
Cousin to the hero in The Waiting Lady |
So my new hero, Cayton, needs to look sorta-kinda like him, though not too close, of course. And their coloring is different.
Cayton is quite handsome, though at this point in time he’s also described as rather surly and grumpy. But that’s more a condition of current circumstances that who he is. So who is the Earl of Cayton? Well, he can be absent-minded and has a hidden appreciation for all things artistic, be they his secret hobby of painting or poetry. Though he once loved the social crowd, recent losses have made him think that perhaps the hermit’s life is the life for him, so he can avoid hurting anyone else. He was once selfish and happy to choose the easy path…and has learned that the worthwhile things in life are seldom easy.
He has a little girl about 9-months-old and is a doting father–to the point where his cousin accuses him of hiding behind little Addie so he doesn’t have to face the world. Cayton wants to do the right thing, wants to make up for his past failings…but fears that he’ll just mess things up all the more.
He is in a lot of ways an anti-hero. And I’m looking forward to giving him an anti-romance, where instead of trying to get the girl, he’s doing his best to lose her. 😉
So…I need an actor who captures that look! LOL
At the moment, the best I’ve found is Henry Cavill:
But I’m open for any other options of handsome chaps who can combine a bit of angst with a hidden artistic side and a history as a heart-breaker. 😉
Let the suggestions begin and I’ll add pictures as they come in!
Suzie J. recommended Josh Duhamel, who’s a fabulous contender!
by Roseanna White | Apr 15, 2015 | 17th-19th Centuries, 20th Century, Remember When Wednesdays
Oh. My. Gracious.
So. As I was debating what servant POV I was going to use in the third installment of my Ladies of the Manor Series, I decided it would be fun to have it be the lady’s maid of the villain rather than the heroine. Though of course, she couldn’t just be any lady’s maid. Each of my servants’ POVs in the other two books propelled the story forward pretty spectacularly, so this one had to have a big purpose too.
So naturally, I decided she must be a Russian spy. Because, you know…of course. 😉 No seriously, it fits perfectly. My villains have made some pretty huge promises to “the Russian,” but they haven’t been able to deliver on said promises. Mr. The Russian might be getting a wee bit impatient, nyet? So obviously, he’s going to be looking into this.
Enter Miss Russian Spy. =D
Her name is Kira Belova, and in my mind’s eye she looks like this.
 |
| Elizaveta Boyarskaya, Russian actress who would be a perfect Kira |
I wasn’t really sure of her story, or how to write her, so I emailed my friend who has studied Russian history for years to ask for some guidance. She pointed me to a HUGE, hefty, meaty, enthralling book called Natasha’s Dance by Orlando Figes. I read for hours over the weekend, starting out going through the book chronologically and then jumping around a bit to the different sections so I could get closer to the time period I needed.
And Kira’s story started to crystallize.
Kira comes from a family of Russian peasant stock who were, until serfdom was abolished in the 1860s in Russia, serfs. Not just any serfs though–artist serfs. What are they, you might ask? I don’t know that I’d ever heard of this practice, or if I had, I’d forgotten. But Mr. Figes wrote a lot about them, all of it so very interesting.
The noble, wealthy families in Russia from the late 1700s through the mid 1800s controlled a lot. All the land, all the people who lived on the land. They had such a huge work force that it sometimes resulted in comical things like a horn band in which, rather than teach anyone to play their horn well, they simply taught scores of them to play one note well…and then to know where in the song to play their one note. (???? LOL)
The leading families created orchestras…operas…theaters…ballets…. They had architects…artists…and often harems from among the serfs. They would select a few of their serfs and send them to academies and Imperial schools in the capital, and then those artists would work for their masters. They could achieve great fame, but only rarely did their masters let them work for anyone else or accept commissions that could earn them fortune as well. It was considered fashionable and Western (it was very desirable to be Western in Russia in that era) to have a slew of serf girls devoted to your personal, intimate pleasure. Masters could treat these girls any way they desired–and when the girls got too old to please them, they’d usually marry them off to their best male serfs and give them a dowry.
As I read about these artist serfs over the weekend, I began to get a feel for Kira’s family’s story. I decided that her babushka (grandmother) was an artist serf, who ended up wed to her master’s huntsman (the elite of the male serfs)…but only after being one of his Girls. She was a singer or actress (haven’t decided which) but also–as most Russians were–a woman of great faith. (One famous Russian writer observed that Russians, as a whole, had to have great faith in order to survive life in Russia.) She raised her family to value above all the freedom they were granted. To do what they ought. To understand, as Russian peasants are famous for understanding, the realities of life and death.
 |
| Posters for the Ballet Russe, 1911 |
Kira would have broken her babushka’s heart when she ran off to Paris and joined the Ballet Russe–or rather, when she embraced the life of a ballerina in the Ballet Russe, which involved having a “patron” who supported her in high style…for, of course, the cost of being his mistress. The life Babushka had hated, had so valued getting away from, and Kira chose it freely.
But Kira’s going to get her redemption story, and it’s going to be a lot of fun to write. Because through her uniquely Russian understanding of life, she’s going to bring healing to some broken places in the world of her new English mistress. She, who has an intrinsic understanding of life and death (some of Tolstoy’s final words were musings about how the peasants die), will have wisdom to offer, though she never anticipated taking on such a role. She, though a spy, will help knit together families long feuding.
Yep. So. Much. Fun. The learning, the writing, the creating. Let’s pray I can adequately capture that Russian soul that so many artists and writers made it their life’s work to shape and bring to light–a Russian soul in many ways created by those artists struggling to understand their history and cultural identity.
by Roseanna White | Apr 1, 2015 | Ancient World, Holiday History, Remember When Wednesdays
So, this past winter I looked up the start of some of our most long-lasting Christmas traditions–namely, Santa Claus. And what I learned made me determined to revive the roots of the tradition, not abandon them altogether as I’d been tempted to do.
The Easter Bunny, on the other hand…I think I’m pulling the plug on him.
I actually made Xoe look up the history of the Easter Bunny last year and write a report on it for school, LOL. She was totally confused by what she found–or rather, by what it has to do with Jesus’s resurrection. Good question, my girl. Good question.
Easter is actually from the Roman goddess of spring, Estre. She was a magician, a trickster, and her most famous trick was when she turned a chicken into a rabbit–but which still laid eggs. The Easter egg, then, was an ancient memorial to this goddess and her magic. The egg laid by a rabbit. The Easter Bunny was the product of this magic. Easter, in ancient mythology, was the celebration of the arrival of spring.
It just so happens that the date coincides with the Jewish Passover, which is, of course, when Jesus was crucified and resurrected. And so, the traditions of the Romans merged with Christianity when it was brought to Rome. But unlike Santa Claus, this was no saint who gave selflessly in honor of Christ, and in whose name other gave so their gifts could be anonymous, as Jesus commanded. No, this is pure paganism.
Do I have a problem with searching for colorful plastic eggs? No, not really. It’s a scavenger hunt, which is totally fine. But I do wonder why we call it Easter instead of Resurrection Day. (Actually, my piano teacher growing up thoroughly objected to this and always, always called it Resurrection Day.) I do wonder why the Easter Bunny still shows up. I love celebrating the resurrection, and I’m happy to do it with food, with treats, with things that bring Joy–because it should bring joy!
But I’m all done with the word “Easter.” I’m all done with the traditions that have absolutely no tie to what I’m really celebrating. Resurrection Day, even more than Christmas (in my opinion, LOL), is the foundational day of my Christian faith. Without this day, my hope would be naught. Oh, Jesus still would have paid the price for my sin had He not risen–but if He had not defeated death, then I wouldn’t have hope in life eternal with Him.
This Sunday, my friends, is the anniversary of the absolute best day in human history. And I’m tired of calling it by something that cheapens it. This isn’t the day of spring, of the rebirth of the year, of magical bunnies who lay eggs. This is the day of Resurrection–of the rebirth of my soul. The day Jesus defeated sin and the grave.
Way better than a chicken-rabbit. Just sayin’.
by Roseanna White | Mar 25, 2015 | 17th-19th Centuries, Remember When Wednesdays
It’s the fourth Wednesday of the month…which means my turn on Colonial Quills!
Today, I’m sharing a really cool and inspiring story about a close call George Washington had during the French and Indian War…and how the hand of God was acknowledged by all to have preserved and protected him on that gruesome day.
by Roseanna White | Mar 18, 2015 | Remember When Wednesdays
I mentioned this briefly last week, when I was sharing the bling for my Ladies of the Manor Series. 😉 But I’d like to find a new adjective to describe my last heroine for the series.
In book 1, we have The Lost Heiress. “Lost” describes what Brook has been for too long…and what she fears being known as by the populace at large. At one point there’s an exchange that goes something like this (I’m paraphrasing myself, LOL).
Justin – “You are an heiress, Brook. You can’t expect them not to notice.”
Brook – “But for too long I was just…lost.”
Love being able to work my titles in. 😉
 |
This photo of Emma Watson is what I sent to Bethany House
as my inspiration for Rowena. Can’t wait to see the model they choose for her! |
In book 2, Rowena is most assuredly
The Reluctant Duchess. She doesn’t want to marry the hero but has little choice. To her own mind, she doesn’t know how to be a duchess–or at least, not
his duchess. She has been brought up to inherit a Highland earldom (women could inherit titles in Scotland), but Brice, the Duke of Nottingham, belongs to a fashionable set that have always entertained themselves by poking fun at Rowena with her “backwards, backwater ways.” Reluctant…aye, to say the least.
So you see, both adjectives for the first 2 books appeal to the characters’ fears. Their insecurities. The thing they have to overcome.
At the moment, the adjective I gave Bethany House for my third heroine, Ella, is waiting…but it’s not quite right, and my editor invited me to come up with some alternatives as I’m writing it. I’d love some suggestions!
Because waiting is one of her strengths, not her fear. Not that I have to do a fear exactly, but I’d like a stronger, more compelling word. Of course, first you have to know a bit about Ella and her circumstances.
 |
This shot from the fabulous PeriodImages.com is such a great Ella
(used with permission – click on photo for link) |
Ella is an optimist. Not just your run-of-the-mill optimist, but an Olympic-medal-worthy optimist. It’s her sport, her event, her defining characteristic. When shadows come in her life–and trust me, they have–she clings all the tighter to faith and to the deep-set belief that God will work out even this. Then she goes and falls in love with who everyone in her life deems the wrong man.
He’s got a past–a selfish one. His first marriage was for money, pure and simple, and everyone is convinced his chose his heiress-wife because she was sickly and would soon die, leaving him free to pursue someone else. The worst part? Everyone’s right. In part. But he’s changed through his marriage, through his wife’s death, and now through raising a child on his own. He’s changed…but he’s still learning. And from his eyes, the world’s a pretty hopeless place, especially when old, ill-chosen friends show up at his door and threaten his daughter if he doesn’t help them commit a crime…against Ella.
He warns her away–she doesn’t listen. He claims he doesn’t care about her–she knows well he means the opposite. The more he pushes, the tighter she holds to what she knows in her heart is true. He needs her, and she needs him.
What one word can convey that? The “lady” part of the title will likely stay put, as it’s the only suitable word to describe her. As the daughter of a duke (now the sister of one, since her brother has inherited), Ella has no title of her own, just the courtesy “Lady Ella.” She is, quite simply, a lady. So let’s focus on the adjective. Something that might speak to her fears, but which harkens to the challenge she faces–and in this case, most likely to the quality that helps her overcome it.
I’ve toyed with:
Hopeful
Relentless
Persistent
Unshakeable
Steadfast
Tenacious
Unyielding
Constant
Do you like any of those? Or do you have other suggestions???
by Roseanna White | Mar 12, 2015 | Remember When Wednesdays, Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized
Last week we wrapped up the Bible study we’d been doing on Sacred Parenting–and the last session was on how parenting is all about sacrificial love, which teaches us what it is. A crucial step in the Christian faith, which is built on sacrifice. It was a great study, and in our discussion afterward, we touched on a lot of great aspects of the subject.
But what really struck me the most is the idea that our idea of sacrifices change over time. The author of the book used the example of a tired dad walking through the mall with his small daughter, who said, “Will you carry me, Daddy? My legs are tired.” He could tell the dad was tired too, but sighed and picked up his little girl. Gary (the author) found himself longing for those days–his youngest was 12. That time of his life was over, and though it was exhausting at the time, he missed it.
How true is that, so often?
It made me think of when my babies were still babies. Rowyn especially would wake up every night. I’m talking, for four years. Every night, at some point or another, he would cry. Every night, I would have to tromp, exhausted, down those stairs to his room. I’d scoop him up. I’d ease down into the old, creaking rocking chair. He’d cuddle in. I’d close my eyes.
There were nights I was so tired that I fell asleep sitting up in that old wooden rocker (not the soft, plush kind with cushions, mind you–the wooden kind). There were nights when I cried along with him because I just needed sleep, and he wouldn’t grant me that. There were nights when I seriously wondered if this kid would ever sleep through the night.
But now I think back on how many times God met me there in the hushed bedroom of my little boy, in the soft shadows of night. I remember how many times I crawled up into the lap of God, just as Rowyn crawled up into mine. I remember how many times I held him, praying him back to sleep…and then, after I saw his eyelids were firmly closed, I held him just a little longer–because I wasn’t ready yet to put him back down, even though that was what my goal had been.
And I realize that those things that were a sacrifice–of our time, our energy, our very sanity–became a blessing. It wasn’t that a blessing came from them, though certainly that happens sometimes. But it’s the thing itself, that action, that act of sacrificing, that we miss when the season has passed by. We miss the time spent giving to another. We miss the act of giving of ourselves.
It doesn’t stop the next sacrifice from hurting. It’s supposed to hurt, to cost us something. That’s why it’s a sacrifice. It grows us, it stretches us, it makes us ache with it. But it’s necessary. Because without sacrifice, what is our faith? If we don’t give to others, why did Jesus give up everything for us?
There are times when I really, really don’t feel up to fulfilling that obligation I agreed to. There are times when I really, really don’t want to pause my work to make another cheese sandwich. There are times when I really, really don’t think I have the strength to give up one more thing.
There are times when I don’t want to sing to the Lord. When I don’t want to worship. When I don’t want to praise. Because it hurts.
That’s when we bring the sacrifice of praise. Of money. Of time. Of energy.
And God meets us there. He takes our sacrifices, and He returns them to us filled up with love. So that, looking back, we realize that that obligation became the thing we looked forward to. That we love cooking for our families. That we had just as much without that money as we would have had with it. That through praising God, the empty places inside were filled up.
The sacrifices didn’t just yield blessings. They are blessings.
What are you sacrificing today? For me, it’s time. And I’m going to stop right now and praise Him for asking it of me. Knowing that the sacrifice is sweet.
Roseanna M. White is a bestselling, Christy Award winning author who has long claimed that words are the air she breathes. When not writing fiction, she’s homeschooling her two kids, editing, designing book covers, and pretending her house will clean itself. Roseanna is the author of a slew of historical novels that span several continents and thousands of years. Spies and war and mayhem always seem to find their way into her books…to offset her real life, which is blessedly ordinary. 