Round Robin – Research

Skye has asked us to discuss: Research for your Novel – Love it or hate it? How important is it for your writing?

How important? Of prime importance. Do I love it? Yes. Do I hate it? Yes – sometimes, maybe…

Research is the foundation of all my novel writing. There’s no difference between historical and contemporary when it comes to getting the facts right.

I can’t believe that you need me to tell you about books, online sources, libraries, oral histories, phoning folk and institutions, newspapers, museums, paintings. You know that’s what writers and researchers do.

We call it work.

LOVE IT

So, what does research mean for my novel – or serial? Writing the most recent serial for DC Thomson’s People’s Friend, I wanted to show a character’s nervousness. I had her twiddle the button on her cardigan. I thought that was unassailable. Wrong. No pictures from the 1880s of women wearing cardigans popped into my head as I typed. Why? The humble cardigan hadn’t been invented is why. Two minutes research in Google and the cardigan had to come out and be replaced by the button on her skirt. Skirts had been invented by the 1880s!

What benefit does the author get from knowing that cardigans weren’t an option? The cardigan stays on the upper body and, if the buttons are closed, keeps one’s front warm as well as one’s back. Not having the cardigan option means the character needs a shawl and that’s a different set of physical behaviours. Shawls slip off the shoulders if not fastened in front or to an undergarment by a brooch or pins. A short shawl would perhaps leave the waist area exposed and chilled but a long one might tangle with one’s skirt and affect one’s gait. It could be slackened and used to cover the head in wind or rain. It could be used to make a bundle and carry stuff.

OF PRIME IMPORTANCE

In short, knowing is an integral part of understanding how the character lived. That’s what is of prime importance – How did the character live? How did they think? How did they speak – and to whom?

Research shows us the obvious, eg it took longer to get from Britain to Australia when the Suez Canal didn’t exist. And it shows us the subtle, eg with no public transport and limited access to private vehicles, most of the early nineteenth century population didn’t leave their birth area. One of the writing foibles I know I exhibit is wanting the characters to have a surname appropriate to their birth area or the birth area of their forbears. Hence the presence on my reference shelf of George Black’s erudite tome.

HATE IT?

There are the moments when you discover that a whole paragraph or even chapter is based on a mistaken idea or belief. That’s not good. It’s also the case that research is an endless field of rabbit holes and sliding into them for an hour or so is is beyond easy…

Do visit the blogs listed below to discover what my fellow robins think.

What areas of research do you, as a reader, regard as the most important for an author to have covered?

Anne

Victoria Chatham  http://www.victoriachatham.com

Diane Bator  https://escapewithawriter.wordpress.com/

Anne Stenhouse  https://annestenhousenovelist.wordpress.com

Dr. Bob Rich  https://wp.me/p3Xihq-398

Connie Vines  http://mizging.blogspot.com/

Helena Fairfax  http://www.helenafairfax.com/blog

Skye Taylor  http://www.skye-writer.com/blogging_by_the_sea

Round Robin – Goals Motivation and Conflicts

Goal, Motivation, and Conflict – The difference between inner conflict and outer conflict and how it keeps the reader glued to your story.

Or:

Goal – what does your protagonist want?

This question is exercising me more than a little at present. I have a lovely female character whose story I’m desperate to explore, but what is her problem? Yes, she wants to make a success of her business. Yes, she wants to see her family happily settled. Is it enough – NO!

I need to dig a little in her past. Why would her business not be a success, I might ask myself. Has there been a public or hidden attack on it in the past? Is she beginning to understand why a particular assignment went so horribly wrong? Is the person who featured in her life then, still in her life today? Hmn! I’m beginning to find a little enlightenment here.

Why does your protagonist want it?

Moving into middle-age, as my character is, she’s spent a lot of years fulfilling joint objectives like being a good child, a helpful wife, a supportive mother. They were relevant objectives, but they are over now. She wants to make her business succeed in order to have something of her own. Also on a practical level, she needs the money to live and to support staff.

What is preventing your protagonist achieving it?

Herein lies the heart of every story. Conflict. How easy would it be for my character to put her own business on the back-burner while she assists a child/sibling/friend? That’s inner conflict. As a person used to the back-up role, she finds it very difficult indeed to keep puting her own needs first.

Overt Conflict is where the antagonist or circumstances or even the weather comes into play. An antagonist might be motivated by greed – they have a similar business and don’t want to relinquish any of the potential market. By spite – they’re just plain nasty. By love – they’re wrong-headed and think ‘the little woman’ shouldn’t have to stir in the working world.

Circumstances affect us all. Britain has just officially gone into a recession – people might regard the service she offers as wrong for this moment. Her premises might be condemned – woodworm, rising damp, loose slates.

The weather. So her transport might be off the road because of snow or flooding. Roads might be blocked because trees have come down in high winds. It might be too hot for her staff to work outside.

TENSION is part of what keeps a reader reading. If you’ve created a likeable character, the reader wants them to succeed. Conflict creates tension.

Inner: So, drop clues. Let the reader in on a conversation between the character and a relative or friend when she is on the point of offering help that will prevent her taking up that breakthrough opportunity. Leave the final decision hanging for a bit.

Outer: Let the reader hear that protagonist telling another character how he was in the area at the time your character’s business had its major meltdown – but keep it hidden from the character – till a crucial moment of revelation.

Mingled: Weather, house repairs etc are useful here. Let your character discover them and chart their apparently inexorable progress. Reader and protagonist are sharing the pain. And, of course, the joy when it resolves.

Dancing

Did I mention I’m attempting to learn how to dance quadrilles? Goal – I want to know how it’s done. Motivation – I’ll have a better understaning of what I’m expecting my characters to do. Conflict – muscle memory is getting between me and any respectable performance of the steps! Even so, it’s good fun.

Fellow robins have also taken time to tell us how they do it. Check out the links below.

Anne

Dr. Bob Rich  https://wp.me/p3Xihq-37G 

Victoria Chatham  http://www.victoriachatham.com

Connie Vines  http://mizging.blogspot.com/

Helena Fairfax  http://www.helenafairfax.com/blog

Diane Bator  https://escapewithawriter.wordpress.com/Skye Taylor  http://www.skye-writer.com/blogging_by_the_sea

Skye Taylor  http://www.skye-writer.com/blogging_by_the_sea

Diary of a Writer – Christmas Story – A STABLE REFUGE

Size six, lacing

A STABLE REFUGE

By

ANNE STENHOUSE

Cold seeped through the soles of Aline’s slippers and crawled up her legs. It circled her knees, and she knew they’d be bright pink. No-one could see that, though, as the onesie she wore covered everything. Covered everything and protected nothing.

Her body was so cold, she thought it wouldn’t be long before it went into shock.

“Hey, Missus,” the elderly shopkeeper said as she staggered a little under the weight of her basket. “Let me help with that.”

Gratefully, Aline released the basket to the man.

“I missed the chance to book a supermarket delivery,” she said without making eye contact. Who on earth would believe that?

“That’s to my advantage then,” the man said. “Husband outside in the car?”

“No, no. I’ve only two hundred yards or so to walk.”

“In this weather! Want me to phone him?”

“Goodness, no,” Aline said and even to her own ears panic laced her voice. She did look up then and saw the woman standing in the storeroom doorway. She wasn’t fooled. Aline knew that disconcerting calm marked a professional.

The man checked out her Christmas shop and if he wondered why a household living two hundred yards down this middle-class suburban street was going to dine on tinned soups and packet ham, he was too polite to say anything.

She hauled the notes Brian had give her out of her pocket and was relieved to see they were enough. The man rang them up and handed her twenty-two pence change.

“What do you want for Christmas, then,” he asked as he carried the bulging shoppers across the shop to the outer door.

“Shoes,” she said without thinking, “Size six, lacing.”

The woman was beside her holding a thick cardigan. Breathing in her clean soapy smell made Aline’s eyes fill. Her mum would smell like that after her shower. The wave of longing meant Aline’s attention wasn’t on the woman and she allowed her arms to be eased into the cardigan.

“We really are open twenty-four hours,” the woman said quietly, “For those in need.”

“I can’t take this,” Aline screamed the words, clawing ineffectually at the sleeves of the cardigan. The woolly pile clung like Velcro to the pile of her velour onesie. “My husband provides for us.”

“Does he?” the woman said. “Well, that’s good, but remember, Liz and Mike are open 24/7.”

Aline grabbed her bags from Mike and slopped home through the driving rain. Brian would be waiting, stopwatch in his hand.

“Hmff!” he said as he clicked her in. “What’s that?”

Aline didn’t pretend ignorance.

“The cardigan?” she said trying to keep mounting hysteria at bay. If that Liz was a professional, she should have known giving her the cardigan would only ramp up Brian’s grievances. “I was shivering, and the shopkeeper’s wife insisted. I’m to take it back soon as.”

“Right on, you are. They think I don’t look after you? What were you telling them, Aline?” Brian drew out the vowels of her name in a parody of the way her dad had talked to her. Her dad meant it as a sign of affection. Brian as a sign of mockery.

“Nothing, Brian. I did the shopping from your list and handed over the money.” She searched in her pocket for the change and set it down on the corner of the hall table. “I’ll put the stuff away so the milk doesn’t go off.”

There was little difference between the temperature of the house and the temperature of the fridge, but she pretended.

Ivy and Luke slid into the hall and gazed longingly at the shopping but there was nothing in there to cheer them up. Nothing at all.

Christmas morning in Brian’s house, as Aline had come to think of it, was possibly the worst morning of the year. When they gathered in the living-room for video calls with his mum and dad, the floor was strewn with Christmas wrap and bits of string. The tree lights were on. Everyone was dressed – properly dressed – with underwear and tee-shirts and trousers and jumpers with silly reindeer on them. Silly but warm.

The children’s presents from Santa sat in a neat pile on the edge of the broad arm of the settee. None of them had the cellophane torn, though. Aline had wondered once why her mother-in-law didn’t ask about that, but now she thought she knew. Brian had to be born in a mould of some sort.

She let her gaze stray to Luke where he sat at his dad’s feet. At ten he was small for his age and there were still one or two accidents in the night. Accidents that allowed Brian his favourite type of moment. The moment when he could accuse her of mollycoddling and lack of discipline. The moment when he could…

“Aline,” Brian’s pretend jocularity speared her straying thoughts, “Aline, Dad wants to know what you got from Santa.”

She peered into the phone. The older man was studying her as closely as the instrument allowed.

“Santa?” she said. “We’re going shopping day after tomorrow. Brian saw a lovely dress he thought would suit and it’s just above budget, but it’ll come down in the sales.”

No phone call to her family. Presents packed into the carriers ready to be returned for a refund. Ham sandwiches made. Brian heated two tins of tomato soup but took her by the arm and pushed her out into the back garden. She heard the lock click. She heard Ivy and Luke crying in protest.

Cold seeped through her slippers. She’d had no shoes for nearly two years now. Brian knew she couldn’t go far in her slippers.

At around three o’clock, Aline heard the window of the bathroom on their half-landing creak open. She looked up and watched as Ivy tumbled through onto the flat roof clutching her one and only dolly. Luke’s head appeared behind her and then he thrust a bag out. It dropped to the ground beside Aline’s feet.

She helped the children slither off the roof and brush themselves down.

“The bag, Mummy,” Luke whispered. “He’d just fallen asleep when I saw a lady in the front garden.”

Aline shook out the shoes. Size six, lacing.

“Let’s go,” she said. “I know a stable refuge that’s open.”

THE END

© Anne Stenhouse

No part of the above story, A Stable Refuge, may be reproduced without written permission from the author.

Below are some of the Robins I share the monthly Round Robin blog with throughout the year. Their stories are available to read from Saturday 16th December.

Dr. Bob Rich https://wp.me/p3Xihq-35i

Connie Vines http://mizging.blogspot.com/

Diane Bator https://dbator.blogspot.com/

Judith Copek http://lynx-sis.blogspot.com/

Helena Fairfax http://www.helenafairfax.com/blog

Victoria Chatham http://www.victoriachatham.com

Skye Taylor http://www.skye-writer.com/blogging_by_the_sea

March

This impressive collection of trophies has been donated over a long period to the Scottish Association of Writers for the competitions they hold at their annual weekend school.

Although I’ve won in some past years, I don’t have any entries in this year. I’m simply looking forward to the event and the chance to catch up with friends from other groups. The more often you attend a regular event, the more friends and acquaintances you’ll have accumulated.

Preparation changes a bit over time. When my family were small, complicated arrangements were necessary to ensure the wheels stayed on the bus. Now, I just have to buy something for the DH to cook himself some supper.

The very first writing conference I attended was in Pitlochry and organised by the late Jim McIntosh and his wife, Joyce Faulkner. Speakers were essentially found by the late Hugh Rae – mostly at the Swanwick Writers’ School where he persuaded people what they really wanted/needed was a weekend in the Scottish Highlands.

That event was a delight and it was the first place I encountered an up and coming romantic novelist called Katie Fforde! There was also the delight of wandering out into Pitlochry itself – a pastime I still enjoy enormously when at the Festival Theatre there.

The SAW is now based in the Westerwood – Double Tree by Hilton – and the walks are around the golf course. Easier on the wallet!

There will be books for sale – The Bookhouse – a quiz, a Dragon’s Pen and one2ones. What’s not to like?

Possibly the weather. As the title say – it is March.

Anne

Round Robin – 2023 starts here

A new image from the talented Connie Vines

And the topic is: New Beginnings – how do you motivate yourself to get back to writing when life has interrupted your flow and/or, how do you begin a new writing challenge?

We’re under new management and I feel the first thing I want to do is thank the departing organiser, Rhobin Courtright. Her sterling efforts over a long period have prompted many interesting exchanges and made us think below the surface of our writers’ exteriors. Thank you, Rhobin, and all good wishes.

The second thing is to welcome the incoming organiser, Skye Taylor. I’m looking forward to continuing with these posts and thanks to Skye for takng it on.

A Quality Product

The celebrations around Christmastime are joyous but they are time-consuming. I hardly ever manage to write anything between the 3rd week of November and the 3rd week of January. This rules out participation in the competitions for a conference I go to. Yes, I know the competitions are the same or similar every year, and no, I cannot get organised to write entries in advance. However in early 2022 I did write an advent story about a Christmas tree and sent it in to the People’s Friend magazine. They bought it when seasonal stories were being read and it was published in December.

Yay!

Next up, in the disruption stakes, is the annual marmalade extravaganza. The pic above is of an earlier year’s activity, but you get the idea – I nearly said flavour, but you’d have to taste it for that.

So, what now? Well, I think writing this post will help as it steers the mind back into work channels. Also, a little success goes a long way. The serial proposal I made to my editor last autumn has been accepted and I’ve been reading up on my character outlines and their story arcs. I’m gradually finding my mind full of what they’re gong to do next and that helps enormously.

In addition, the writing world’s social side has started up, too. Coffee with my friend and fellow Capital Writer, Kate Blackadder sparked a good exchange about our current projects. Early in February there’ll be an RNA Scottish chapter lunch so that, too, will be a stimulus. There are so many talented people in the RNA.

What is not helping is this new keyboard. It’s sticking. Hence I’m having either no letter depressed or three copies of it. The shift key is seizing and the ‘Enter’ one is sending the next para all the way down a page. It may be a visit to the accessories shop is on the horizon.

Below is a list of other robins and their approach to picking it up again. I’m sure there’ll be interesting tips to be learned.

best wishes for 2023,

Anne

Dr. Bob Rich             https://wp.me/p3Xihq-2OQ

Anne Graham           https://goo.gl/h4DtKv

Connie Vines             http://mizging.blogspot.com/

Diane Bator               https://dbator.blogspot.com/

A.J.                             http://ajmaguire.wordpress.com/

Victoria Chatham     http://www.victoriachatham.com

Fiona McGuire          http://www.fionamcgier.com/

Skye Taylor http://www.skye-writer.com/blogging_by_the_sea

Marci Baun https://www.marcibaun.com/blog

http://www.Skye-writer.com/

AWAY FROM THE MANGER – A Christmas Story

Creel Christmas Tree, Ullapool

As has been my practice over the last few years, I’m uploading a free-to-read Christmas Story in lieu of a card for readers, friends, distant relatives (HI Helen in Australia), and anyone in need of a few Christmassy moments.

Thank you all for dropping by through the year and, in particular, for those of you who take the time to comment. It’s lovely to read your take on whatever the topic is.

AWAY FROM THE MANAGER

By

ANNE STENHOUSE

Grace watched the others.

It was cold out but some of the boys had gone into the yard to kick a battered ball around while they waited for the hatch to open. The cook was behind it and the smell of bacon grilling seeped through into the dining area.

Grace watched the others.

They came back in by ones and twos, pretending they’d done enough to warm them through but failing to stop their hungry gazes turning to that hatch. The smell of bacon grilling will do that.

In the farthest corner of their dining area, Hannah sat alone peeling the skin around her fingernails and creating a buffer zone, a no-fly zone, a leave me alone to my own special misery space.

Grace did not watch Hannah. She was already miserable enough and didn’t need any of Hannah’s, thank you. Christmas Day in a hostel. Grace closed her eyes briefly but opened them when the scenes from Christmas Past flashed up in her memory.

The dogs would be frantic by now because Grace’s granny would have opened all the kitchen doors. The fridge and its freezer compartment, the larder off the little back hall, the breadbasket where Mum would have been de-frosting croissants and those other pastries with the chocolate in them, would all be standing open. Well mannered dogs like Petal and Thea would be struggling with their natural impulse to grab the turkey crown or the gammon and run for their beds under the stairs.

Then she remembered Christmas Present when it would all be different, but ‘Just as nice.’ As if…

The smell of bacon grilling was enticing. Grace looked at the others and saw the hunger. Food wasn’t going to make it go away. Were they thinking about Christmases past?

“Move over, Gracie,” Rico said as he approached her table with a tray. “I suppose you’d like a bacon roll and I brought you orange juice.”

Grace cast a startled glance at the tall young man and slithered across the bench. He was a voluntary helper. Did Tuesdays.

“It’s not Tuesday,” she said and closed her eyes in despair. How cool a remark was that? “I mean, you usually come in on Tuesdays.”

“I couldn’t bear the thought of you lovely people on your own at Christmas,” Rico unloaded the tray and yet again Grace felt the tug of that bacon smell. She wondered if the street team had a spray of it to lessen the resistance of the homeless they approached. She lifted the roll and took a bite. Oily liquid slid down her chin.

Rico laughed. She made a wry face, and he picked up his own roll. Oily liquid slid down his chin.

“There’s loads of company,” Grace said. She eyed the spare roll sitting on the big plate. Had Rico brought it for her or for himself, she wondered.

“So there is and Hannah is still sitting in solitary.” Rico spoke quietly without turning in the direction of the other girl.

“Will I take her that roll?” Grace asked. Rico studied her for a moment or two. His eyes were nearly as deep and brown as Grace’s spaniels.

He nodded and stood up to let her out of the bench seat.

“Hannah?” Grace said quietly, tentatively, “Would you like this roll?”

The other girl shook her head without raising it.

“They’re really good and hot,” Grace tried again.

“I’m vegan,” Hannah said.

“Oh, oh, I didn’t know. Sorry.” Hannah had been here when Grace was brought in a week ago and Grace had never seen her eat anything.

Back at her own table, she set the plate down.

“Vegan, was it?” Rico asked. “Her excuse?”

“Did you know?”

“No! I wouldn’t have let you ask if I had.”

“I suppose,” Grace muttered.

“Missing them at home?”

Tears spurted and she drew her sleeve down to wipe it across her eyes.

“They won’t be missing me. ‘Cept the dogs maybe. Dad and I used to take them out onto the Pentlands on Christmas morning.” She stared into the middle distance.

“It’s a second wife, is it?” Rico asked.

“My category,” Grace flashed. “Am I reduced to that?”

Rico’s big warm hand tugged her smaller one out of the defensive shrug she’d made around herself. He straightened her fingers and gripped them.

“Only in the paperwork,” Rico said. “Look, Grace, maybe they are missing you. Maybe your dad’s new wife doesn’t know how to do Christmas the way everybody likes.”

“That’s certainly true,” Grace said. “She bought beef.” Grace remembered now. It wouldn’t be a turkey crown or gammon joint the girls would be slavering under but a huge piece of something or other.

“Sirloin?” Rico asked.

“That’s the word.”

“Hmn! Well, loads of households eat Sir Loin around Christmastime.” Rico pulled her to her feet and steered her out of the kitchen. “Have you been into town to look at the Norwegian Tree?”

They stood on The Mound shivering despite being zipped into their outdoor jackets. Grace loved this tree. She turned her head to look up into Rico’s face and caught the glance he was sending over her head.

“You Ba…”

Rico was too quick for her. He had her in a bear hug round her middle before she could run.

“I know. But, I will take you back to the hostel if you really can’t face them,” he said, “I promise.”

He set her on the pavement without releasing her fully and Grace stared fixedly at the top of his jacket zip. Behind her, two dogs barked furiously and in seconds were leaping up the backs of her legs. She reached down and one of the dogs, Thea maybe, had her glove off. Wet doggie kisses slurped all over her fingers.

“Happy Christmas, darling,” her dad said, and she turned then as Rico’s arms relaxed.

To run or not to run?

“I’m a vegan now, Daddy,” she said.

“Really? Well, okay. Will you find the smell of roasting meat too much to bear?”

Grace edged closer to her dad. He looked thinner, a bit. The dogs were tangling themselves in their leads and flopped onto the frost.

“I hope so,” she said.

© Anne Stenhouse 2022

Another Capital Writer, Kate Blackadder, has produced a lovely Christmassy volume of her previously published Christmas themed stories. You can buy CHRISTMAS EVE AND OTHER STORIES from amazon, here

Round Robin – August 2022

This month’s topic is How do you create your characters–their quirks, habits, values, and what part they will play in the story, etc.? Do you have a process or do they come to you instinctively?

Dealing with the widening out questions first – Do you have a process or do they (characters) come to you insitnctively?

I suppose I do, or might, have a process in so far has I need to hear their voices. I often start a story or longer piece in dialogue and the character’s voice has to be clear in my head before I really know who they are.

In the beginning, I was told by my mentor, the late Margaret McKinlay, that all my characters sounded like me. This was backed up by others in the Edinburgh Writers’ Club. There was a huge shift in my writing when I realised that: No, the character would not resolve things the way I would and: Yes, as soon as the character refused to play ball with plot, they were real.

Most writers have been asked whether such and such a character is based on them/a mutual acquaintance/the newsreader and the answer must depress pretensions (or hopes) because ordinary people are too ordinary to make the cut. They need the application of quirks, habits and values and at that stage in their creation I can look to the needs of the plot.

It’s such a relief to get to that point. How does one get there?

Take Rosalie Garden in A Debt for Rosalie. She made her appearance as a young woman struggling with the loss of a promising business and the discovery that her fiancé was likely to blame. Her back story strengthened her resolve to not accept the solution offered by another man. Her emotional recovery allowed her to take the help the new man offered on terms that were good for them both.

The story opens with Rosalie getting off an ‘ageing man’s bicycle’ and instantly we know she’s a young woman of determination because she’s cycled for hours and miles on it. It becomes clear that she has no loose money – but she did have a bike; and she got on that bike.

I suppose, it’s a free-flow process. What I have to be careful over, is not getting carried away and allowing character to become caricature. Rosalie’s story may be available from a library near you.

Check out the posts from my fellow robins below, from the 27th, to discover how other writers find their characters.

Anne (who, like Melissa, has been dancing quadrilles! Ha!)

Regency Ball, Hopetoun House

Skye Taylor http://www.skye-writer.com/blogging_by_the_sea

Connie Vines http://mizging.blogspot.com/

Fiona McGier http://www.fionamcgier.com/

Dr. Bob Rich https://bobrich18.wordpress.com/2022/08/27/hatching-people/ 

Anne Stenhouse https://annestenhousenovelist.wordpress.com

Robin Courtright

June Round Robin – Through a Glass darkly

June

Have you ever included current social, political, or environmental problems in any of your stories or thought about doing so? Why or why not?

This month’s question could cover a lot of ground and for guidance, contributors were offered a list of possible ways we might be including the issues mentioned. I write mainly historical novels and magazine serials and contemporary magazine short stories.

Hence my title, Through a Glass Darkly: from 1st Corinthians and meaning – to see an issue imperfectly.

Although I don’t regard myself as an ‘issues’ writer, I am very conscious of the things that anger me and hold my interest. Principally, that the discrimination meted out to the female of the species never disappears. It’s an issue that embraces politics, discrimination, wars, terrorism and economics.

The theme a regular reader of my work would identify is the entitlement to education. It was a central plank in my first historical novel, Mariah’s Marriage, and also in the Anniversary serial I wrote for People’s Friend magazine, City of Discoveries.

Once a person achieves the ability to read and write, their future changes dramatically. It was, therefore, a major objective among many to prevent women, in particular, and categories of men from learning these skills. After all, who was going to continue at home scrubbing floors and making the tea? Who was going to be content in dead-end work?

Having lost that battle, it became a major concern that no further ground – like secondary education or university education – should be ceded. This is the main theme of the serial I wrote for People’s Friend last year, In A Class of Their Own, about the struggle of women to become registered doctors.

How does this theme embrace ‘wars, terrorism and economics’? Scrolling the world news channels provides an all too recognisable answer. Women are not entitled to education in many countries. Wars are fought and much of the fall-out will be to remove the independence a previous culture allowed to its womenfolk. Some will be terrorised by the imposition of anti-female laws. Almost all will be economically discriminated against.

The work of fiction, in my opinion, is not only to entertain but to inspire thought. In many Western cultures women are educated, have worthwhile jobs, equal control of their children and the right to leave a poisoned marriage. In many cultures they have none of that. Writing in the world of the early nineteenth century enables me to entertain, but remind my reader – ‘It’s not that long since you were controlled by your father or husband and your children would go with your husband if you dared to leave him.’

The hope is that the reader will recognise and ALWAYS, ALWAYS, use their vote. It was hard to come by.

A large part of Melissa’s story in Courting the Countess is about her struggle to avoid a second marriage where her new husband would be hoping for control of her fortune.

Maybe you’d like to find out how others view the use of contemporary life and some fellow Robiners have contributed below.

Anne

Skye Taylor http://www.skye-writer.com/blogging_by_the_sea

A.J. Maguire http://ajmaguire.wordpress.com/

Diane Bator http://dbator.blogspot.ca/

Connie Vines http://mizging.blogspot.com/

Marci Baun http://www.marcibaun.com/blog/

Anne Stenhouse https://annestenhousenovelist.wordpress.com

Dr. Bob Rich https://wp.me/p3Xihq-2Fj 

Rhobin Courtright http://rhobincourtright.com

Judith Copek http://lynx-sis.blogspot.com/

A Second Life

City of Discoveries

Re-running on the People’s Friend website is my anniversary serial set in Dundee and Australia. Jennet Marshall is the subject of unwanted attention from the foreman, Fleming. However, an unsuspected champion is on her side.

City Of Discoveries — Episode 07

ROUND ROBIN – February

Describe a flawed character you might use as a heroine or hero in a story. How did they become so flawed? How might their flaws affect the story and what will happen to them?

Hullo from a snowy overcast Edinburgh. I know that some of you wouldn’t regard what I see out of the window this morning as being snow – or anything approaching it – but as it hardly ever snows in Edinburgh, I stand by my view.

A Retreating Writer

The pic above was taken in Assynt when the DH and I made a winter trip there and saw it under snow for the first time. Our normal visits having been during the summer months.

What has the weather to do with using flawed characters in one’s writing? What if my brain conflates the image above with the dusting of white on the front path this morning? Because I am not a cold weather person and, matter of fact, dislike snow a lot, any snow triggers a disproportionate reaction in my brain. That’s a flaw in my character which might affect my behaviour and that of others.

It’s a flaw, or warp, that might cause me to stay at home missing an important event, a treat, a funeral, the opportunity to secure a job… the list is endless.

Moving on to the other types of flaws. Supposing a person has been brought up in a family group that believes ALL of the people in another family are EVIL. They live in circumstances where it’s difficult or impossible to avoid the other clan entirely. But at a crucial moment in their development, they are being taught, and influenced, by a teacher from outside the area. That person doesn’t know which family is aligned with which or, if they do, ignores the implications of such a feud. The teacher is either wholly rational (not everyone in any family can be evil) or their own irrationalities are different.

In due course, our flawed character finds themselves in danger together with one of the hated clan. They must work in harmony to save themselves/the local hospital/the barn storing the winter grain/ something IMPORTANT. They do.

Having discovered that at least one member of the other family is not a bad person, a conflict has been set up. How does the character settle back into the old life? The story is likely to be the struggle they have to climb out of hatred into rationality.

This character flaw – accepting as gospel what Mum, Dad and the other relatives say without question – is the basis of much great literature. The tragedy of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, for example. The hero and heroine move rapidly to a place of acceptance, but the families do not.

A lot of the work of one of my favourite writers, Georgette Heyer, is based on the flawed character, but is to comic effect. In Friday’s Child, for example, Sherry, Viscount Sheringham, is told within the first few pages of the book why his chosen bride won’t have him. The flaws of his character are laid out for the reader and the rest of the book is the tale of how he is made to face up to and overcome them before achieving his true life’s partner (not, by the way, the one of the opening).

And in my writing?

I’m currently tackling the planning of a serial and I have a flawed character who will in due course influence events. It’s a she and her character flaws relate to the problems of insularity and are the product of upbringing. I’m using her to encapsulate much of what is wrong in the society she inhabits. Will there be hope arising from her eventual story arc? I’m very keen to find out. Will she be affected by her ‘journey’ – oh yes!

My fellow robins, listed below, all have something to say on this subject. Do drop in on their blogs, too, and please, if you find our pieces of interest would you consider sharing through your facebook or Twitter channels? Warm thanks in advance.

Anne

COURTING THE COUNTESS

COURTING THE COUNTESS (US)

COURTING THE COUNTESS (AUS)

COURTING THE COUNTESS (Esp)

Skye Taylor http://www.skye-writer.com/blogging_by_the_sea

Dr. Bob Rich https://wp.me/p3Xihq-2yB

Marci Baun http://www.marcibaun.com/blog/

Connie Vines http://mizging.blogspot.com/

Fiona McGier http://www.fionamcgier.com/

Diane Bator http://dbator.blogspot.ca/

Rhobin L Courtright http://www.rhobincourtright.com