September 2007 Archives

As a linguist, I get a real kick out of the unintended consequences of translating text from one language to another. (One of my favorite books is ENGLISH AS SHE IS SPOKE, an amazing tome written some centuries ago by two Portuguese gentlemen who spoke no English, but possessed a lot of faith in their technique of using a Portuguese-French dictionary, then a French-English dictionary, to come up with... ta daa! An English primer for Portuguese speakers. It's been a long time since I read the book, but I do fondly recall the expression "address you to your hairs" being offered up in place of "comb your hair" and the mysterious phrase "to craunch the marmoset.")

In that spirit, I'd like to offer up a lovely list from moronland.net: the Top 13 Worst Slogan Translations Ever. My favorite concerns the nature of the relationship between Frank Perdue and his chickens.

Just to give you an idea of what my characters are wearing: here's a link to Grand Ladies of the 1500s, an album of images posted by the mysterious gogm1. This particular selection pertains to my area of interest -- Italian and French dress in the mid-1500s. Above is an image of a Florentine noblewoman circa 1540, an important period in my work-in-progress THE BLOODIEST QUEEN.

It's tricky trying to describe what characters are wearing without sounding overly expository, or modern. Take a look at the costumes being worn -- now quickly! Describe them in ten words or less, and make it sound natural and 1500ish.

Such are the challenges faced by the intrepid writer of historical fiction. I'm not complaining, mind; I'm just grateful that I can get away with wearing sweats and my husband's old t-shirt to work instead of the get-ups these ladies are wearing...

Or your best friend, either. Especially if you're struggling to break into the writing business and/or aren't brimming with confidence.

Why?

Well, read the following comment posted on writing coach Emily Hanlon's blog:

The first draft was twelve hundred pages, and when I was about three quarters done, I proudly announced to my parents that I had just finished writing eight hundred pages. My father was delighted and he congratulated me. My mother laughingly said, “Who would want to read eight hundred pages you wrote?” I laughed with her. After all, I was used to Mom’s brittle humor. Ha! I blocked for three months. I couldn’t write a word.

Friends, family members and significant others can do more harm than good -- unless they're experienced writers or editors. Take the case of my Beloved Consort, aka Mr. K.

...I'm no match for Elizabeth of Bathory. Who was she? Just a woman who liked to kill virgins and bathe in their blood. Seriously. She was a consummate sadist and serial murderer.

According to News for Medievalists, two new movies about Bathory are in the works.

Bathory is accused of indulging in year-round atrocities - in winter, punishing servant girls by dousing them with cold water in the courtyard until they froze to death; in summer, stripping and smearing them with honey to be attacked by insects, and often searing the breasts and genitals of staff with red hot pokers.

Nice.

For those of you who haven't indulged in THE DIARIES OF THE FAMILY DRACUL trilogy, Elisabeth of Bathory is featured as a main character in the second and third novels. For some reason, I felt she and Vlad the Impaler would have gotten on well...

The New York Times ran an article recently on the fact that Amazon.com is both venturing into the world of e-books this fall. Here's what caught my eye:

In October, the online retailer Amazon.com will unveil the Kindle, an electronic book reader that has been the subject of industry speculation for a year, according to several people who have tried the device and are familiar with Amazon’s plans. The Kindle will be priced at $400 to $500 and will wirelessly connect to an e-book store on Amazon’s site.

Now, I'm one of the more voracious readers in the world, and nothing floats my boat higher than the thought of immediate access to new books -- no waiting for overnight shipping! No more books overflowing on my bookshelves and in banker's boxes in the garage.

But... $500? Ouch.

And I have to admit, I keep a printed copy of my manuscript beside me when I work. Why? Because it's just so much easier to quickly leaf through paper pages to find a detail than to scroll tediously through an electronic copy. It just is.

And so I remain skeptical. At least, I will until Apple gets involved and makes printed books available through iTunes...

Saw a cute meme over at Booking Through Thursday . It asked

So, this is my question to you–are you a Goldilocks kind of reader? Do you need the light just right, the background noise just so loud but not too loud, the chair just right, the distractions at a minimum? Or can you open a book at any time and dip right in, whether it’s for twenty seconds, while waiting for the kettle to boil, or indefinitely, like while waiting interminably at the hospital–as long as the book is open in front of your nose, you’re happy to read?

Well, I'm not so much a Goldilocks kind of reader -- but I'm definitely a Goldilocks kind of writer. I need quiet, lots of it -- at least in terms of words. Maybe it's crazy of me, but hearing another person's words -- when I am trying hard to listen to the ones emerging in my head -- "drowns out" what I'm trying to get down on paper.
I've tried writing to music, but the same problem occurs there. No lyrics, please. I can handle a little Bach or Mozart if the volume's really low, otherwise forget it.

Interestingly enough, the sound of dogs snoring actually increases my writing output and enhances my concentration.

My current work-in-progress, THE BLOODIEST QUEEN, is based around the key event of the St. Bartholomew's Day Massacre in France. More than 70,000 French Protestants (known as Huguenots) were slain by Catholics in mob violence.

It all began on August 24, 1572. August is beastly hot, even in the City of Lights, and most Parisians have the good sense to hightail it out of the city for the better part of the month.

No one thought to do that back in 1572; they'd all been invited to the wedding of Catherine de' Medici's daughter. Paris was a tinderbox that year, brutally hot, a fact which no doubt fueled the sectarian violence.

By coincidence, as I've been studying up on the details of that vicious summer, my little corner of paradise has heated up to 105 degrees today. And it's only noon. Let's just say I'm glad I don't keep weapons in the house. And that I have a don't-discuss-religion-when-it's-over-eighty-degrees rule, too.

At least I can kill people digitally. I'm off to slay a Huguenot or two as soon as I finish typing these words...

The picture? Ah, that's Django the Wonder Pup, the newest resident of the Palazzo Kalogridis. Sure, he looks all cute and innocent now, but give him a few minutes outside in the heat, and he'll turn into a slavering monster.