Jen Geigle Johnson's Blog

One of the joys of writing books is the human connection you create with readers. I felt this the most from writing Song of Salzburg and as I look back at the text and rethink the story, I am convinced it is in part because this book really touches on the journey of an artist. Anyone who is trying to make their way in this world and share their art. I myself relate to Freya. The musical aspects are also exactly how I have felt. I played the violin. I play the piano. I like to sing. But I think my greatest musical gift is the ability to appreciate it. I am swept away by music. Those parts in the book were easy to portray. And so in my mind, this book is a celebration of the arts and the ARTISTS who create.

The response to Song of Salzburg has been stunning. I’ve been so grateful and so humbled by the many people who were touched, deeply, by my little book. Thank you.

From Publisher’s Weekly:“Johnson (Her Lady’s Whims and Fancies) combines love and music to lovely effect in the fourth installment to the historical shared universe Romance on the Orient Express series…The romance is chaste, slow-building, and sweet, and Johnson makes both characters’ love of music palpable. This is a treat.”

From Historical Novel Society: Young violinist, Freya Winter, has been accepted to study in the Salzburg Youth Orchestra under the renowned Maestro, a master musician shrouded in mystery, and possibly win a professional position. Her accidental meeting with a handsome, mysterious stranger on the celebrated Orient Express proves the beginning of many clandestine meetings as she regularly travels from Salzburg to Paris and back to visit her grandmother. Music is their language. They harmonize, challenge, and complement each other.Johnson’s musical training and orchestral experience elevate the novel. The reader is privy to this sweet 19th-century romance as Erich Schumann (the aforementioned stranger) coaches her, and not only joins her in playing in the elegant dining car but introduces her to Britain’s Prince Edward for a private audience. As their relationship grows in passion and intensity, her talent and confidence bloom. Who is this talented musician she is falling for? Is their meeting accidental or fated? Why hasn’t she been called by the Maestro for her critique?
Of course, the reader realizes early on that Erich is the renowned Maestro, but when and how Freya will discover it adds to the tension and excitement. Will Freya be forced to return to England to marry a man of her father’s choosing? Will her concert dreams die or be realized? Johnson has cleverly used the Orient Express as a place to build this lively romance.

Six stars. If I could have commissioned a book, this could have been it. I loved the setting(s), the characters and the plot. The story provided mystery, fear, ambition, sacrifice, struggle to overcome seemingly impossible barriers, love and romance. It made it clear how music can capture the heart in ways nothing else can. I particularly loved the two main characters and the way Freya expressed the importance of music to her. However, I believe that you do not need to be a music lover to like this book. Great writing, and a great love story.

I found this charming story captivating and couldn’t put it down. 

Jen Geigle Johnson paints a beautiful picture of awakening love and self confidence in a sumptuous setting. I

This book is a masterpiece. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed this series, but this is really my favorite! As a musician this story speaks to my heart and resonates with insights, secret desires and profound yearnings that only another musician would understand. The storyline is so unique. The twists and turns are hoped for, and somewhat anticipated, but do not disappoint. The author has really come into her own. Beautifully written, the story involves not only the elegance of the Orient Express, but the fascination of the Paris World Expo, and the rich musical history of of Salzburg. What a combination.

You know there books and then there are BOOKS. I loved this book, the beautiful descriptions of music and scenery were profound. What a beautiful story. It was truly magical. BRAVO

I loved all the Romance on the Orient Express books, but this one leaves me without words to describe how phenomenal the story was. I would reccomend this book to anyone who enjoys historical fiction and/or romance. I would rate this 10 stars if I could. It pulled at my heart strings more than any book has before.

I found this charming story captivating and couldn’t put it down. The role music played was beautifully descriptive and quite a foundation for the happenings in the book!

This is a novel that I will read again just to feel those soaring feelings of great appreciation and love for music and the musicians portrayed. Bravo to this author for writing such a romantic and heartfelt story.

Tension-for-Proper-ladies-to-shareDownload

Grosvenor Square, London, 1814

Lady Elsie Morrow, daughter of the Duke of Shelby and twin sister of Duncan, Baron of Argyll in Scotland, wished she stood on a craggy rock, the wind whipping all of the pins out of her hair. She could almost see the hills rolling in every direction, a low stone wall lining portions of properties and a stubborn crop striving to break through the dry earth. The sky would be blue, the clouds sparse, and everything would be just as it should be.

She murmured words from Sir Walter Scott: “‘O, might I live to see thee grace, / In Scotland’s court, thy birthright place.’”

Instead of standing on her beloved Scottish soil, her feet stood firmly planted in London. Unfortunately, time spent in London always dragged for Lady Elsie. Not just dragged, it creeped along like the snails over the rocks on her estate. But she missed the snails. The London Season she could do without. Even the small ball she’d attended one week past had been trying. She and Lady Sophie had weathered the gossip and upturned noses of some while enjoying dances and warmth from others. Who was friend and who was foe? She would never really know, and for that, she clung to her best friend, Lady Sophie, and to the women who regularly met in her home.

The meetings with the ladies in her Books for Change group were a weekly solace. Their thoughtful words, their wisdom, their very intelligence prompted her to learn more herself.

She returned from the park to prepare for such a meeting. Before she could lift a hand to the brass knocker, their family butler opened the door with a small smile. “Welcome home, Lady Elsie.” Timson took her parasol and bonnet. “You’ll find the duchess preparing for the Books for Change meeting.”

JEN GEIGLE JOHNSON

“Thank you. Has anything of note happened while I was out?” “In this house? Things of note happen all the time.”

She laughed, as she assumed he’d meant her to. “Anything of particular note?” The man refused to be her spy, no matter how often she tried to make him do so. But today he surprised her with one tidbit. “Your father has had a visitor.”

“Oh?” She turned to go to her father’s study.

“He’s come and gone, your father with him.”

“Who was it?” Her nonchalant tone and partial attention were likely not fooling good Timson.

“The Duke of Grant.”

She whipped around to face their butler fully. “I suppose you don’t know the purpose of the visit?” “I would never presume to say.”

She nodded. “Thank you.” Then she hurried up the stairs to change into an appropriate morning dress for the Books for Change meeting she and her mother were hosting.

When all their guests had gathered, Elsie sat at the side of her best friend and let the general conversation of the room sink into a happy place inside her, clearing away the past weeks’ frustrations.

Lady Locke stood at the front of the room, completing their weekly recitation.

“As wreath of snow on mountain-breast Slides from the rock that gave it rest, Poor Ellen glided from her stay, And at the Monarch’s feet she lay; No word her choking voice commands,She showed the ring,—she clasped her hands. O, not a moment could he brook, The generous Prince, that suppliant look! Gently he raised her,—and, the while, Checked with a glance the circle’s smile; Graceful, but grave, her brow he kissed, And bade her terrors be dismissed:—”

Elsie sighed with happiness as she listened to the words of Sir Walter Scott. The rhymes, the meter, the beautiful language.

Lady Sophie leaned closer. “She said prince.” She smiled but looked as though she might say more.

Elsie shook her head, watching the others. “We don’t even know if they’re coming.” Her whisper was meant for Lady Sophie’s ears only, but a few of the older women turned disapproving stares in her direction.

“But they must. If we heard tell the plans were in place, then they must.” Lady Sophie nodded as though a rumor decided things.

Lady Locke eyed them for a moment from her place up front before continuing her presentation. “I think we can do another benefit for the purchase of more books. Our library is doing surprisingly well.” Lady Locke was widowed and was the perfect group member because she had a healthy inheritance and so much time on her hands that she did twice as much as anyone else.

Elsie loved her.

Lady Sophie nodded in agreement with Lady Locke. Elsie knew her best friend was a firm supporter of a greater library. Her family, though highly ranked, had not collected any sort of library themselves, much to her frustration. “Have we considered allowing visitors to take books home from the library?”

“Oh no. We cannot trust that they will return the books in good condition. Do you know that some readers actually fold down the corners of pages? Or write in them? What if their tea were to spill across the words?” Lady Locke obviously had more to say on the matter, but she forbore.

The group collectively gasped, and Elsie laughed. Women of a mind to do good, to learn, to improve the world surrounded her. “I agree with the others, Lady Sophie. We cannot allow the books to leave, but I also support asking for donations from the users. It will help with our other endeavors and allow us to buy more books.” She placed a hand on her friend’s. “But you most certainly can borrow from our library anytime you wish.”

She nodded. “And I can spend time in the actual space like the others and read what I like?”

They all agreed.

They continued talking and planning, and the more good works that were on Elsie’s schedule, the better she felt. They would use the Season—the gathering of everyone of rank, importance, or money into one place—for good.

JEN GEIGLE JOHNSON

Elsie’s mother bade farewell to their guests, one by one, at the doorway. e women had lingered for a time and then started to trickle out. Lady Sophie came to stand at Elsie’s side. She was all smiles, and her deep, rich auburn hair curled up around her face. “at was the best one yet.”

“Do you think? The one where you stood on a chair was pretty exciting as well.”

“I couldn’t help myself. Women’s suffrage deserves such a response.” “That’s why that particular meeting will go down in history as our finest.”

Lady Sophie laughed. “Have you heard from Sir Walter Scott?” “Not yet. If he comes to London, I think he would join our meeting, don’t you?” “How could he not?” They waved to another small group of women making their way out of the drawing room.

Elsie leaned closer. “I have news.”

Lady Sophie turned to face her and reached for her hands. “Tell me.” “Father has been meeting with the Duke of Grant in the early mornings, here at first, and then they left together this morning.”

“What do you think is going on?” “I don’t know. I thought maybe the war . . .” Elsie paused, watching Lady Sophie’s growing amusement with confusion. “What?” “Only you would consider a visit from the Duke of Grant to be war related.”

“What else could it be? Don’t they both spend time with that office?” “I haven’t the slightest idea, but I will tell you what I do know. The Duke of Grant has a highly eligible son, who shows a good amount of interest in you.” Her triumphant expression made Elsie wish to talk of anything else.

“Please, Sophie. I doubt very much that I am the subject of frequent meetings between two dukes.”

Lady Sophie shrugged. “You’re just as important as any war.”

Her carriage arrived, so she kissed Elsie’s cheeks and rushed out, waving behind her as she went.

When the last woman had bid farewell and walked down their front steps, Elsie stood by her mother, with her hand still lifted in farewell to their last guest. Mother put her arm around Elsie’s waist, watching the carriage drive away.

“That was a wonderful meeting.” Elsie grinned.

“I’m so proud of you.” Her mother kissed her temple. “I love our work together with this.”

“Me too.” They stood together for a moment, Elsie enjoying the last lingering drops of the best part of her week.

A servant approached and curtsied when Mother gave her leave to speak. “Beg pardon, Your Grace, my lady. His Grace would like to see Lady Elsie in the study.”

“Oh?” Elsie looked to her mother, wondering if she knew the reason for the summons, but her mother seemed as curious as she was.

Mother patted her arm. “I’m going to do some reading in the east library this afternoon if you care to join me.”

“Yes. I have some correspondence as well.” Elsie left her mother and quickened her steps to the study.

Her curiosity grew. A summons? She’d just spent last evening with her mother and father on a rare night when they were all at home. As she went over the conversation, she could think of nothing that would have indicated a summons to the study was necessary. She reviewed her interactions with any would-be suitors and could see no evidence of any men who had shown any more interest than usual, nothing to indicate one would expect to be favorably received by her. She tried to push those thoughts aside, but a tiny part of her did wish for a good relationship with a man in her life—one she respected and admired, who did good for the world, who broadened his mind by reading, looked out for others. She sighed. Even her own brother didn’t meet all of these requirements as specifically as she would have hoped.

She knocked on her father’s door.

“Enter.”

The study was lined with books, her father’s personal collection. She’d read quite a few but had less interest in the war tomes than some of the others.

“Father?”

“Elsie, come here.” He stood and held out his arms.

After a quick embrace, her father’s familiar smell of sandalwood filling the air around her, she sat in her usual chair across from his desk. He had energy about him, light in his face. Her father was about to give her some news. She sat forward.

“You may have noticed I’ve been entertaining the Duke of Grant here at early hours,” he began.

“Yes, and then leaving with him.”

He chuckled. “Of course you’ve noticed.” He studied her a moment more. “You see things most do not. You would make the perfect spy, were you a man.”

She choked. “Pardon me?”

He shook his head. “But that’s neither here nor there. You are perfect for what is needed right now.”

She waited, growing more baffled by the minute.

“We have a situation, perhaps of national importance.”

“And it’s related to the Duke of Grant?” She was growing excited. Her father trusting her with knowledge of national importance? Bringing her into the conversation? For years she’d watched her brother and father discuss matters her father had thought not for her ears. They would leave his study with determined faces and serious expressions, but when turning to her, they would soften and smile and talk of her coming Season. Yet, here, now, perhaps she was going to be a part of those serious plans. She scooted as far forward as she could.

“We find we are in need of your help.”

Her heart leapt. “I’m ready, Father. Whatever you need. I’ve been wanting something like this for years. I mean, we do good work, the ladies and I. And that’s important. Our library is growing, and our causes are well supported, but this—this is what I know I was made for.”

His soft, proud chuckle warmed her insides. “Excellent. A visitor has come to England from Oldenburg. So far, he is in the north, with the Duke of Sumter.”

She nodded. The Duke of Sumter was a decent man, by all accounts. Never made an appearance in London, but now, to have a visitor from Oldenburg? The princes! She daren’t change her expression, but she was certain Father must be talking about the eight princes.

“We aren’t certain why he has come. The timing is suspect. Sweden has just declared war on England.”

“Why would they do such a thing?”

“Pressured to do so by the ridiculous Treaty of Paris, in which they maintain peace with France but must be at odds with her enemies. They plan to trade with us as usual but in a manner that might not be so overt. But that needn’t concern you.”

“But, Father, I’m incredibly interested in this kind of talk.”

“Excellent, because I will need your best listening ears. Oldenburg is in a vital location for our naval forces, and they are close enough to Sweden that concerns have arisen as to their continued loyalty. We need someone to befriend the prince.”

“Prince?” She forced her hands to remain still, though a sudden fluttering rushed through her. Lady Sophie would be most interested in this development.

“Heir to the throne of Oldenburg,” her father confirmed. “He will be visiting London for a time, and we need to watch him. We are shorthanded. None of our agents with the kinds of social reach you have are available. We are going to host the prince, as a family, befriend him ourselves, and you will become close to him, be present wherever he goes, and report back your findings.”

Lady Sophie might die when she heard this. And half the ton were in love with at least the idea of the Oldenburg princes, but Elsie couldn’t feel as excited as perhaps she might have were she to simply be introduced to him in a more conventional manner. “My . . . findings?”

“Yes, if he does anything suspicious—has the wrong sorts of friends here, tries to reach any French nationalists. We can’t guess why he has come and have no time to decipher, as I said. We are relying on you.”

“Where do you suspect he will go?” This could be intriguing, but something didn’t sound right.

“We will offer to aid in his introduction to Society. He will be our guest at Almack’s. You can introduce him to your friends. We need you to be everywhere he is.” Her father sat back with an overly large grin. “Perhaps he will go only where we introduce him. Perhaps everything will come to nothing, but if he steps outside the expected social circles, you will know it, and I will know it.”

Her concern only grew, a potential thorn in her happiness. “You want me to attend more things this Season?” She’d always imagined spy work to be a bit more exciting than simply following her subject around at social events.

“Exactly. Your country needs you, Elsie.”

Perhaps if she wholeheartedly accepted this assignment, there might be others. And hadn’t she already decided she wished to know the prince? “I must admit I’m intrigued by this assignment.”

“I knew we could count on you. He will be here tonight to attend the Duke of Grant’s dinner with us.”

“I didn’t think we were attending.”

“We are now. Put on your prettiest dress and your best listening ears. Let’s see if we can find out why this man is visiting England at such a time.” He picked up a quill and dipped it into his ink. “Thank you, Daughter.”

She knew she was dismissed. “You’re welcome,” she said distractedly as she left her father’s study.

Oldenburg. She’d heard of the country, naturally. Now she must find out everything there was to know about such a place and its crown prince.

SUMMARY

Peace is tenuous in the small kingdom of Oldenburg, and the looming threat of invasion from Napoleon weighs heavily on the royal family. Their best chance lies in strengthening their alliance with England. So it is that Prince Hayes Wilhelm finds himself in an unfamiliar land, where he hopes a prominent duke can help him protect his country. 

Lady Elsie longs to make a difference in the world, but spying was not quite what she had in mind. So when her father, the Duke of Shelby, approaches her about keeping a close eye on the visiting crown prince of Oldenburg, she reluctantly agrees. But the outspoken young woman did not anticipate finding in Hayes a man who shares—and respects—her progressive ideas. Their mutual attraction is undeniable, but Elsie cannot forget her charge to spy on the man who is quickly stealing her heart. With the threat of war looming ever closer, Elsie and Hayes must consider carefully whom to trust—before their secrets tear them apart.

SUMMARY:

Lady Elsie longs to make a difference, but spying was not what she had in mind. So when she’s asked to keep a close eye on the visiting crown prince of Oldenburg, she agrees—reluctantly. But the outspoken young woman did not anticipate finding in the prince a man who respects her ideas—or one who could steal her heart.

I was just thinking about some fun stuff that we do and use and there is so much more where this list came from.

I wonder, if while raising six kids I might have a few things I could pass along, you know, to the folks just starting out. this list isn’t it, but it got me thinking. The problem is of course, that the longer you are on this earth, the more clearly you realize that you really don’t know as much as you think you know. And you understand that everyone needs to make their own way. So there you have it. But in the meantime, all of the above are Johnson fun things. We are currently playing Star Wars monopoly at least three times a week. hahaha. mostly because our youngest loves it and he runs this house. (I use affiliate links to share these ideas)

Fun shopping ideas:

Mint Hot Chocolate. The only brand I LOVE: https://amzn.to/3oiUE2C

His Lady in Hiding. SUPER fun story.https://amzn.to/36wXniJ

Infinity cube stocking stuffershttps://amzn.to/37wDgk9

Star Wars Monopoly (way simpler game)https://amzn.to/2I0Cseo

Citiblocks (super fun way to build stuff)https://amzn.to/39G7X9f

For the best book swag ever, cute little mini books etc. https://fromnewleaf.myshopify.com

old fashioned ribbon candy https://www.worldmarket.com/product/old+fashioned+baby+ribbon+christmas+candy+mix.do?sortby=ourPicks

Wreath Cookies Recipe

Found here

Ingredients:

Ingredients

1 cup butter

2 oz cream cheese

1 cup sugar

1 large egg

1 large egg yolk

1 1/2 tsp vanilla extract

1/2 tsp almond extract

3 cups all-purpose flour

1 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp salt

Frosting

1 1/2 cup butter, room temperature

3 cups powdered sugar

1 tbsp cream

green food coloring

Equipment

nonpareils sprinkles

French star piping tip, small

3-inch biscuit cutter

1-inch cookie cutter

Directions

For the cookies:

1. In a standing mixer, cream room temperature butter, cream cheese, sugar, vanilla extract and almond extract together until creamed.

2. Add in the egg and egg yolk and mix just until combined. Sprinkle in the flour, baking powder and salt and turn mixer on low.

3. Combine batter until it comes together, cover in plastic wrap and chill in the refrigerator for one hour.

4. Preheat the oven to 350°F

5. On a clean, well-floured surface, roll out to 1/4″ thick.

6. ut cookies out with a 3-inch biscuit cutter and then cut out the center with a 1-inch cookie cutter.

7. Bake in the oven for 9-12 minutes.

For the frosting:

1. Mix the butter, powdered sugar and vanilla extract on low until well combined.

2. Add in the cream until the batter turns smooth.

3. Separate into 4 small bowls and add in desired food coloring.

4. Decorate cookies as desired with piping tips and sprinkles.

Launched in April to a big splash, His Lady in Hiding made its debut amongst store closures and a spreading pandemic. Interesting timing because when I wrote this book, I knew it needed to be light and fun full of plenty of humor which is just what we all wanted to read. Some highlights for me writing this book: The humor on the passage over, the sweet boy Jeremy and the preacher and his wife, The Allens. The house for her mother in Wales. (spoiler) and the growth in Lady Elizabeth’s character. It was a fun challenge also to write Barton’s characters. Watching him struggle with the very realistic difficulties of living in their time, with all that life threw at him at once. I think he made his way through and came out on top. And I agree with one reviewer who said that the way he responded was exactly accurate according to the time period they are in. I used a lot of Regency rules and expectations as specific challenges to work through for him. Some rules you just can’t break without losing honor. This applies especially for gentlemen in that era.

I hope you enjoy this book as much as I did. I have loved talking about it and sharing it with all of you. Get your copy if you don’t have it yet. Amazon, Seagull, Deseret Book, Barnes and Noble. The Deseret bookshelf APP has it. It’s on audible. It’s a perfect escape.

And through all of this, I fine tuned my author motto: To write immersive stories that capture readers and return them better for having taken the journey.

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While researching for A Lady’s Maid, I found myself on numerous occasions, standing up and pacing. “How?” “Why?” Even the teenage, “I can’t even…” all rushed through my mind. Then I would rush back to the screen, trying to puzzle through how a human could come to another and say, “We want our voice to be heard.” And the response would be, “No.”

If you take out the politics, the gender, the labels, how could one human say to another, “I don’t want to hear you?” And not just once, but over and over again, “I don’t want to hear you.” For generations.

And I never found a satisfying answer.

But what I did discover was so emotional for me, I hope you have the same response while reading A Lady’s Maid.

Women are amazing. They had a huge influence—even while undervalued, abused, and ground down upon, they still made a difference. Women persisted. They never gave up. Hundreds and hundreds of years of asking, they did not give up.Men that listen to, believe, and admire women are the real deal. They are one vital factor into why real change could finally happen.

And here’s one of the most powerful truths I learned. The story changes depending on WHO is telling it. That’s not because someone is making up stories. Or lying. But because point of view is everything. Two people can experience the same thing and come away with a totally different dialogue.

As I placed myself in the mind and heart of women in the 1800’s, asking for the right to vote, experiencing resultant abuse because their voice is not heard, I learned the power of Point of View. Who’s telling the story? And I imagined some of our own stories, the ones of ancient history. What more insight would we gain from a feminine point of view? What would the history of the world look like as told through a woman’s eyes? If I ever have the privilege to sit at the feet of some of the earliest women in our lives, I will drink from their perspective, soak in their wisdom, and joy in the telling and the listening.

With all the emotion running around in my heart at the launch of a new book, I’m mostly overcome with gratitude. For all the women, then and now who join the conversation, who take risks and stand up and speak, who raise figurative banners and say, over and over again…

I will be heard.

I will be heard.

I will be heard.

I will be heard.

I will be heard.

I will be heard.

I will be heard.

I will be heard.

I will be heard.

To you and to women everywhere, I salute you. I curtsy, or nod in your direction. I cry with you. I hug you. I cheer for you and I stand in silent vigil with you. Thank you for being you. I believe in God and I truly believe that when God sent women to this earth, He knew what the world could become because of us. Do not tread lightly, dear sisters. Add your voice to the conversation. In this remarkable day of communication, Be Heard.

Yes.

Women were there, asking for the right to vote while Darcy found Elizabeth not tolerable enough.

Women were there when Heathcliff was making us all depressed.

Women were marching for suffrage during the Dashwoods’ many plights.

Women were there during Roman times.

Women ruled during the time of the Egyptians.

And yet, they weren’t given the right to vote, or any voice in the governance of their countries in our historical memory until the beginning of the twentieth century.

While writing and researching for The Nobleman’s Daughter, I was fascinated to see so many women, marching, rallying, and yes, wearing white with laurel wreaths. And yet, our fictional stories rarely acknowledge their existence, or if we do, they are the bluestocking pariah of their day, and small parts of the story.

So I determined to make the movement the story. Or at least create a plot so intertwined with the plight of women that we would not fail to see it. I have so much respect for these women over the centuries who persisted. Because without them, I would not live with the rights and freedoms I now posses.

I can’t wait for you to read, A Lady’s Maid, to follow Molly’s journey as she tries to aid in suffrage for all, particularly women. Go take a look. If you, like me, have been feeling sad for Molly and the place she was left at the end of The Nobleman’s Daughter, read this right away. CLICK HERE or on the image below.

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The nitty gritty about the first scene in Scarlet:

I have wanted to talk about retellings for some time.

What makes a good retelling?

Do we want to stay in that world longer, and so as a reader we look for new characters in the same world?
Or do we love the characters so much we wish to go on more adventures with them?
Did we love the premise so much that we want another plot like the first but with all new people or in a new place?
Or do we want a clever twist on the original, with elements we recognize and feel comfortable with and other pieces that are new to us?

A retelling could be all these things. I’ve even read retellings where the dialogue was almost exactly the same as the original but the characters and setting were different. (I didn’t enjoy that one)

So, let’s get into the nitty gritty of my retelling of The Scarlet Pimpernel.

The first scenes.

Many have seen the movies, the old ones and the newer Jane Seymour rendition. And the first scene in the movie reminds them of the second scene in my book. (once she gets away from the guillotine which in my book, it is a totally unique story).

How did I write that first scene? Is it a play by play of the movie?

No. I read the book, loved the first line,

“A surging, seething, murmuring crowd of beings that are human only in name, for to the eye and ear they seem naught but savage creatures, animated by vile passions and by the lust of vengeance and of hate.” The Scarlet Pimpernel pp 1-7. Baroness Orczy

I know it sounds awful. You can almost see the bloodlust, the depravity of the people. And when I read that line, I knew, that my romance, my light, fun romance, a story of heroism and courage, would be told against the back drop of a people who had lost their humanity.

So I started there in my book. I wanted to set that up right away, saying: We are in France and it’s an awful time to be alive. OK, at the guillotine, bloodlust all around, got it.

BUT amidst terror, heroes always rise. I have seen this firsthand and I wanted to establish hope amongst the depravity. Yes, humans forgot they were supposed to be human, BUT some were good. Some were so incredibly good that their light shone through the darkness all around. And just like in my book, if you look, you will always find heroes in our day. So in Scarlet, there is a woman who cares, a boy who follows her around, a young man who helps.

Then. I wanted to establish early on, that we are retelling the Pimpernel. I wanted the reader to instantly recognize a familiar tale. So I followed similarly to the first disguise the Pimpernel uses in the book. He drives a cart. He is an old hag. He has coffins with him. (he has coffins many times and I tried to only use coffins once.) He has a boy with him who has the plague. They leave through the west gate where the infamous Bibot watches over. I wanted some costumes to be similar, some disguises to be recognizable but I also wanted to create my own rescues, costumes and disguises. But before I deviated from a much loved tale, I grounded us all in the original.

The movie follows this whole opening in the book pretty much play for play as the book addresses it. Hag, coffins, plague, heads, Bibot.

I didn’t.

I include Simon who does not have the plague and he is not a boy but a mentally challenged young man. She is a hag and she has a bag of heads. In the book and movie, the Pimpernel uses the plague of his son to distract and disgust the guard. I use the bag of heads in my book. I also use it for humor. I tried to write the scene in such a melodramatic manner that people laughed instead of cringed, but my mother was pretty upset by the gruesome nature of the scene.

In these first scenes and throughout my book, I wrote a retelling with a twist. Several of the characters are gender bent. I told the story in a similar setting. I include disguise, heroic characters, a fashion conscious heroine, a Prince who feeds on it all. A true hero who is willing to sacrifice all, a league of helpers. The French Revolution and accurate bits of history. The VILLAINS. One day I’d like to talk about what I did with Chauvlin/Eleonore Duplay. and so on.

Baroness Orczy created a wonderful tale and fabulous characters, and since then, many have created their own tales inspired by her genius so that we could linger a little longer in her world, enjoy her characters, and in this case be educated by her setting. And though I don’t claim to have mastered like the master herself, I do feel I have added something of value to the ever growing world of The Pimpernel.

As seen particularly in The women: Exploring how the tale would have worked if a woman were in charge was a fascinating exercise and brought to light some of the stronger qualities that make up the feminine side of our humanity. I felt like the best parts of why women are heroic were shown through this story. I used the gender twist as an opportunity to highlight some of the many women who were involved in the French Revolution, the huge numbers that asked for a constitution, that asked for their rights to be protected in the document. They were brave, outspoken and educated.

And as seen in the historical details: I tried to stay true to the original tale as written in the books, AND to history. I included real to life events and people as much as possible.

And can we not have a bit of fun? Because I have to admit, playing around in this world, with a fascinating and brilliant, brave woman, a handsome passionate frenchman and a league of brave men was one of the most entertaining projects I have ever endeavored.

Thank you for being here on the journey. Thank you for enabling me to add my mark to the growing retellings of such a clever and beautiful story.

 

I have had a fantastic response to Scarlet, my latest historical romance. People love the twist on a famous character, The Scarlet Pimpernel. They love to read the history of the time. I loved writing it, and the idea fascinated me. So it has been my quickest and most fun historical to write to date. (though I have one coming with a lady who disguises herself as a maid, might rival this one)

But I did something unique with the romance arc in this story. And it mimics what happened in Baroness Orczy’s book which is largely why I did it. But now that I have, it has taught me a few things about romance and life.

So, in the romance genre, you start with two people who have things that bring them together and things that pull them apart and the idea is that the two camps of influences struggle with and against each other throughout your book until in the end, your characters overcome all their inner and outer demons and the romance conquers all. Often this culminates in a kiss or a marriage or a proposal of some sort. (or something steamier if that’s what you read)

In a romance, the proposal or marriage comittment is what is happening on the OUTSIDE. A kiss, a proposal, a marriage are all important symbols. But what’s more important, of course, is the INNER emotional journey. 

And so with Scarlet, you have two people who meet and fall in love quickly, get married right away, but THEN begins their true emotional journey as they learn to trust and rely on each other. Their romance arc, though they are already married, ends when their relationship is at a true happily ever after. Not just in word or paper, but when they have  reached a place where you know they can weather whatever storms come because they have each other. This emotional resonance should be present in all romances, and is the TRUE Happily ever after we all seek. No matter if the OUTER physical manifestation is present or not. An engagement does not make a HEA (read happily ever after). Neither does a marriage. A unity of mind and heart and emotional constancy does.

Happy reading my lovely friends! Look for the emotional arc in characters while you read their love stories. Therein lies the TRUE love story.

This morning, I feel like being real.

I mean, I’m always REAL. But I mean, the dirty bathroom kind of real, the shut your bedroom door so no one sees the mess kind of real.

Some of the real grittiness of life people don’t want to see, if we are being honest. They have their own grittiness and don’t need to be messin’ with mine.

Everyone asks me how I do it. When I start to tell them how I organize my day, or my method of calendaring, eyes glaze over. So I don’t think they really want to know the detailed account of my minutes. I’ve started making jokes about my piles of laundry and that brings a laugh, and a glint of satisfaction that concerns me.

I think people wonder what had to give so that I might have time to be an author. And I wish the answer was, “nothing that I valued had to go.”

But that’s not entirely true, so now I’m being real.

You know that awesome book you have that totally sucks you in and you don’t need food, or sleep or even the bathroom while you are reading it?

That’s how writing a book is. Once you slip into that world, your fingers flying across the keyboard, you are lost, and all interruptions seem secondary.

That sounds lovely, right? It actually is. Drafting a book is a magical journey to another place.

But then you have to edit. Which is painstaking and careful and brow-beating work. Where something is not working and even if you don’t know exactly how to fix it, you have to fix it. But editing is where things start to shine and your intent becomes clear. It’s like a slow reveal gem buried deep in the earth. Editing consumes me in a different way than drafting consumes me.

And then there’s proofreading which is fine.

But if you write books, chances are, you want people to read them. So there is a whole side of writing that has nothing to do at all with actually creating stories. Marketing, platform building, networking work. I sort of LOVE/hate this work. I love the people aspect of it. Love to meet new people, love to connect, love having people in my life. I don’t want to talk about the parts that are grueling. I mean, I can only be real about a few things at a time.

So if I let it, writing could take over my life, and there are two-week stretches when I have a deadline and it actually does take over most of my time. The trouble with the time vacuum is that I have a vibrant and rewarding life outside of writing.

And this morning, it got real.

I got a text. “We are coming to get Audrey at 8 this morning.” Cute friends, taking her to breakfast. So I walk by her room at 7:15, considering whether to wake her or let them surprise her. AND I SAW HER ROOM. I feel like I was in there just the other day, right? And it was clean?

Then my older teen saunters over. “Mom, do you know where our calculators are?”

He has the ACT this morning and must leave in twenty minutes. And I happen to know we have gone on a graphing calculator hunt before and come up empty handed. We buy a new one every year but we never actually have one to use. So I leave Audrey asleep in her bed and move to help my son. After much drawer and old back pack digging we find one, but it is not charged. Then we find another, miracle of miracles, but the batteries are old and crusty. The hunt for AAA batteries ensues. In the meantime, clock is ticking for girls to arrive and embarrassing room awaits. Then BAM breakfast. “Have you eaten anything?” Of course not. I scramble for something edible and quick. I cannot give him cereal before the ACT, isn’t that bad? Too many carbs? I vaguely remember peanut butter being a good thing, so I slab some on a couple rolls and add Nutella for luck and hand them to my son, with a water bottle and power bar for snack and send him out the door. Back to Audrey’s room and I start to notice the other rooms in the house. So you get my point. Authoring for me means messy rooms. I am willing to give up cleaning to write books. But when my older kids took the ACT, before I became an author, everything was laid out the night before and they arose calmly with plenty of time to do their best. Right now as I type, I am panicking a little bit because I don’t know if he brought a spare number 2 pencil. I don’t even know if he brought A pencil but I’m assuming even a sixteen year old guy would remember that.

In the meantime, other teen didn’t finish his merit badge in time for a particular deadline, and I didn’t get to hug my youngest after losing a basketball game in double overtime.

But good things are happening too. Older teen will finish his Eagle Scout project next week and be almost done earning his Eagle Scout award.

Let’s, just for fun, make a list of all the things.

Two sons’ progress towards Eagle in Scouting.

One daughter preparing to go to the Philippines in May. This includes researching and acquiring all things that will keep her alive over there. As well as getting her shots. And giving her the emotional support and building love she needs before she goes for 18 months.

One daughter returning from 18 months in Spain. Finding her apartment, with specific friends, adding all her classes.

One son’s support as he gets ready to audition for HS band.

One daughter’s talent development in voice and piano and possibly volleyball. This weighs on me a little bit.

My responsibilities at church. These are large and varied and all consuming if I let them. My husband is the Bishop of our congregation. And so by default my role at his side could be as large or small as I make it. And I also have a job leading the music program for the children at church every Sunday.

Friends. I do have them still, I hope.

The yard, the house.

Dentist Appts. I mean, this deserves its own blog post.

And so on. Everything fighting for its moment at the top of my to-do list each day.