Thursday, 17 January 2008

On my high horse...

Which happens to be in the Regency times. And when reading Heidi's blog, nodding all the way through.

I've decided that my next in our anthology adventures is to be set in Regency times. As a writer of modern contemporary comedy, choosing the Regency is a kind of take on the mantle of challenge versus the already pretty much there.

If you say Pride and Prejudice to me I'd say, Jane Austen's, the BBC Colin Firth version or the movie? I have them all and sit with them on an ad nauseum basis. I can watch them like my kids used to watch Annie video when they were little. The dialogue flavor is important to me and can make or break my enjoyment of a period piece. Last night I watched the movie version (again) of Pride and Prejudice. And Colin Firth did the Darcy thing so differently, but I have to add that both versions are brilliantly executed and so differently.

I am loving the historical aspects of this work and that of the enchanted faeries set in the Highlands in the late 16oo's. I'm enjoying the research and the application of such knowledge. I am also learning that through the research, ideas and plots do get to shift on a continuing basis. If anyone reading this could take advice, do google.

So my hero is on his high horse on Rotten Row even as we discuss this... which returns me back to Heidi's blog on the hero...

Who wants:
1. Somebody who'd rather watch sport.
2. Couch potato
3. Never moves more than to change buttons on the remote control.
4. Only puts his top on when he goes out to buy a new carton of beer.
and the list goes on so:

I guess that no matter what period we put our characters into, it boils down to the ideal man. The man who we'd love to exist but probably even does if one doesn't apply all the rules.

For my part this translates into my husband, my best friend, and the one who supports the ups and downs of my muse. He's not perfect. His temper sometimes can be a short fuse. I'm not allowed to tell him where to park. He brings me flowers on fridays. He tells me I say 'actually' too much. He handles my excessive book collection with building a larger wall of shelves. He's a wonderful father. Loves the dog. And swishes soap all over the glass shower which stays in glubes, but which will get cleaned by the lady he pays for to clean our house so I can write. He's my version of my alpha male.

But he'd translate most terribly into the kind of hero we want in a romance I guess.

Actually, would he?

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