Historical Writing Workshop Review, plus Bonus Fiction Assignment

This past weekend, I went down to visit the family (without my husband and son, who were having bonding time), with a few key points on my agenda.  The initial desire to visit this particular weekend was because I had learned that a workshop was being offered at Heritage Park Village in the Pinellas Park area of Pinellas County, FL.  For 2 hours and $10, we were led to believe that we'd be infused with vast amounts of knowledge on how to do research and incorporate historical aspects into our writing.

That was the hype.  Did it live up to it?  Meh.  Was it worth it?  I'd say so, if only because it got me writing and time away by myself, which is very rare.

The speaker for the group (who I won't mention by name) is a published author of multiple novels, none of which I'd ever read or known anyone to have read.  She had a cheaply assembled set of documents printed with website addresses and some lists for things to consider when writing in a historical timeframe rather than in contemporary times.  We were reminded to consider things like the type of clothing, food, and work that were customary in the era in which we were writing.  After about 20 minutes of reviewing this packet and introducing ourselves (several of whom were already published novelists), we were told to read 4 pages of densely packed text on the culture and habits of the people of 17th Century England and write 3 pages, 2 at the very least.  We were given half an hour for this.

After spending my time scanning and attempting to absorb all the data that seemed sensible (particularly given my familiarity with 19th Century England), I allowed myself to proceed with writing.  And a story started to write itself.  I had mental images from other stories and films sort of mashing themselves together in my head, and admittedly my visuals largely seem to borrow from the movie Ever After, but after completing my assignment as much as possible in the time allotted, I felt rather accomplished and proud of what I'd achieved.

Our group was then subjected to the unnecessary and bizarre experience of witnessing the speaker dress in period costume and pretend to be the protagonist of her latest novel (on sale for less than bookstand prices, free autographs available, on the table by the wall).  This didn't seem too harrowing until it proved to last a full 20 minutes or more, providing an insanely developed synopsis of the plot of her book (which reminded me immensely of Auntie Mame, though it's really an unfair comparison).

Only then were we free to share our own writing.  There were golf claps and murmurs of encouraging words for everyone, at the very least.  One woman there surprised me by being far better than either herself or myself thought was likely, so I'm humbled by witnessing that.  But I couldn't help but notice that I got the best reaction from the crowd of other hopeful writers and the workshop's speaker.  While I'm not normally very self-congratulatory about my writing, I was pretty proud of what I had been able to throw together on the fly, so I felt the praise was well-deserved and have since subjected several family members and utter strangers to subsequent readings of this random assignment.

And therefore, given that I'm currently finding this a good thing, I'm going to share my efforts with you.  Aren't you lucky?  (Go on, you can throw up now.  I would, too.  But it's me, so, you know, I'm not going to do so just now.)

Okay, here goes (transcribed from chicken scratch by flashlight at 1am), unedited:

Jane heard the carriage wheels and hoofbeats of the horses and was startled out of her reverie.  In her mind's eye, peering out the kitchen window, she had pictured how she would change things if she were the mistress of Whitcomb Park.


Jane called out to the scullery maid, "'ere, look 'a that, Colleen.  'E's gone and fetched 'imself up a bride!  It'll be a fine load of work for us tonight.  Mind you straighten your hems.  And ne'er you mind if the new Lady Whitcomb calls ye Mary.  Them as are high born 'ere willn't stoop to using your Irish name."

Jane took her own advice and promptly straightened her petticoats.  She reset her head scarf and plucked a few saucy curls into good order.  Dusting her apron clean of flour as best she could, Jane made one last look around the kitchen before rushing out of the kitchen house to greet the new mistress of the house.


____________


The master should look happier than this, thought Jane.  He's got a wife and now his daughter can once again have a mother.  But he don't even have the decency nor grace to look pleased.


Jane watched Lord Whitcomb assist Lady Elizabeth Whitcomb from the carriage.  Her attire was a glorious display of velvet and silk.  But the sheer disdain that her eyes displayed on viewing the house and its staff members, in line for her welcome, was one that would forever color the perceptions of those who were there that day.


Colleen finally stumbled her way awkwardly out of the kitchen house and across the lawn to join the other servants.  Now it was the staff's turn to glare disdainfully at the Irish girl's disheveled status.  She hadn't even seen fit to cover her flame-red locks.  Without so much as a turn of their heads, the butler, upstairs maids, personal attendants, and even Jane managed to convey their disgust, and Colleen found herself suddenly standing several feet from the others.


Jane mentally prepared herself for the explanations she was certain would be demanded of her for the behavior of her only subordinate. I could say she en't right in the 'aid, that I 'ired 'er out o' charity, or so.


She contemplated her references to consider if a new location and employer might be a simpler matter.  Jane watched fearfully as her new mistress approached, still squinting along her nose and daintily holding her skirts above the muck in the yard with one hand and the master's arm with the other.

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So, that's where I finished in class, and that's probably where I'll leave it.  I'd love some feedback (criticism is always welcome, provided it's constructive).  What did you like?  What did you think was weak?  I know there are weak parts in it, so don't pretend otherwise, or I won't value your opinion.  Is there anything in particular that strikes you?  Why do you think it's effective?

Thank you for taking the time to read all of the above!  Please be sure to leave a note in the comments!

Á La Jane Austen, Part the Second

This is the second part of an earlier post.  To read the previous post explaining what this is, go here.  Or just read on to enjoy!

Dearest Charlotte, 

Thank you ever so much for the delightful account of matters at home.  I am pleased to learn that our loving father yet persists in living, despite such excessive helpings of gravy, and that dear Mamma finds herself incapable of detecting any great want of judgment in the new scullery maid.  I am, however, certain that neither of these conditions will be long-lasting.  Dear sister, I would invite you to join us in Bath, if it were in my power.  At the least I shall make some subtle hints to my Aunt Nelly on the subject. 

It has been two days since the party at the McKinnons'.  How insufferably warm it was!  Half of Bath must have been invited, with scarcely any regard for Consequence.  I nearly had to leave the drawing room in a fit of laughter after Aunt Nelly discovered she had been speaking to a Governess.  Miss Greenly is so well-mannered and unaffected a young woman, and arrived in company with the Langfords, that Aunt did not perceive her place until several minutes into a rather intimate conversation.  On learning that Miss Greenly was, until very recently, governess to the Misses Langford, Aunt nearly brought on a Fit of Apoplexy in herself at the idea of such a one being in attendance.  Miss Caroline did an excellent job in redirecting the conversation to the weather so that both Aunt Nelly and poor Miss Greenly could recover. 

But I am making you wait and teasing you, no doubt.  I can nearly feel your eyes demanding of me the minute particulars of Mr. Kirby and Mr. Langford.  Very well, then. 

Mr. Garrison Kirby is a moderately well looking man.  His 40th birthday celebration is to be held Tuesday se'ennight, and I have been invited to attend.  Aunt has declared to me that she does not mean to accompany me, which well suits my preference in the matter.  Mr. Kirby is a tall, slim man with angular features abundant.  While never destined to be the most handsome of men, I find I am not misinformed of a certain pleasantness of his features.  he appears to be a man well-beloved by children and smiles almost incessantly.  His apparel and hair reflect a moderate amount of unaffected carelessness, and his manner is all cheerful sincerity.  miss Langford and he are indeed well-matched to one another, and I wish them joy in their marriage. 

As regards Mr. L., I have little new to report.  However, we had some dancing at the party at the McKinnons', and Mr. Langford saw fit to secure me for the first two dances.  If I could be relate the expression of Miss McKinnon on Henry's approaching us and inviting me rather than herself, to be his partner!  He danced divinely and, moreover, appeared entirely oblivious to the indignation of Miss McKinnon or the envious eyes of Miss Creighton and Miss Louisa Creighton.
I am most heartily yours,
Evelyn

Fin.

Á la young Jane Austen

I've been on a Jane Austen binge lately.  (Sorry, honey!)

I re-read or read all of her novels and juvenalia, other than Sandition which I understand was recently completed by another author.  I've watched the correlating movies for most of her novels ad nauseum. (Sorry again, honey!)  Seriously, I have watched Pride and Prejudice at least 30 times in the past month, if not more.  I have watched Becoming Jane with similar vigor.

Something about her writing, her life, her time period, her experiences just really resonates with me.  And so as a pre-writing exercise for part of my novel, and some pieces of which may actually form a part of the final draft thereof, I have endeavored to copy the writing style of Jane Austen in her juvenalia.

Without giving too much away, one of the characters in my Novel-In-Progress (NIP?) is obsessed with 19th Century literature, so I have allowed myself virtually unfettered absorption into the world of Jane Austen.  I've already done similar immersion experiments in the past with Charlotte Brontë and Louisa May Alcott and have been trying to get some 19thC male authors into the mix as well, though their novel writing bears a very distinct contrast to that of the women of the same period.

And so, what I have done is to write letters from one girl to her sister, both in parts of England, which I've never visited.  Yet, dagnabbit.  As I say, they are meant in some fashion to resemble though not outright copy the writing style of Jane Austen.  I only intended to copy her style insomuch as to make it as historically accurate for the period as possible without having to do significant research.  As my former professor, Boris Shekhtman told us math majors, "Mathematicians are inherently lazy."  He should know.  The man deliberately scheduled himself to work only afternoons and evenings so he could stay out until closing every night.  But he is absolutely brilliant and logical, despite his appetite for -OH and socializing in bars.  (True as anything, he's still doing the same scheme:  USF's website says all his classes right now start at 2pm.  Love that man!)

So, in the spirit of laziness and therefore mathematical brilliance, I present to you the two letters I have written so far.  Feedback is much appreciated, both positive and negative!  (Also, for those not familiar, it was customary to refer to the eldest unmarried female of a family by Miss [Last Name] and her younger siblings by Miss [First Name] [Last Name].)

Letter the First, from Evelyn in Bath to her sister Charlotte back home

Dear Charlotte, 

My dear sister, what shall you think of me?  I have been in Bath nearly a se'ennight without any correspondence to you.  Would I have some high reason for such a lapse, and yet the best excuse I have for myself is being incessantly kept busy. 

Aunt Nelly goes to the pump room daily and insists on my joining her.  With her great kindness in bringing me "out", I feel obligated to obey her every whim.  This may soon change, however, as I have at last found a friend for myself here.  Miss Caroline Langford and her brother are in Bath helping Miss Langford prepare for her upcoming nuptials to a Mr. Garrison Kirby.  Miss Caroline informed me that Mr. Kirby is nearly 40--over twice Miranda's age.  he has two thousand a year and a sizable estate South of Town. 

Miss Caroline declares that despite his advanced years, Mr. Kirby still appears handsome of face and agile of limb.  I have yet to meet him myself, though I feel sure of doing so at the McKinnons' dinner party tonight.  You may expect me to relate a less partial, very faithful review of the subject. 

As for the Langfords, they have been residing this twelvemonth with their mother's relations, following the illness and death of both their parents.  Miss Langford appears at first a delicate, shy flower of a girl.  At 19 years, she promises well with such bloom of youth persistent in her cheek.  Though a little fuller of figure than is generally thought handsome on a woman, her shape and bearing and gentle manner are yet pleasing to witness. 

Miss Caroline is more spritely than her sister.  At 17 years, she has, like me, only just left her governess, though she has been out nearly a twelvemonth.  Her fair hair possesses the perfect proportion of curl, and she styles it so elegantly and meticulously that I find myself starting to pay greater attention to my own toilette, so as to appear a more worthy companion.  Caroline's elegance of form and figure, as well as her delicate and heartfelt way with a harp, are sure to secure her a most worthy husband before long. 

I know what you are thinking.  Shame on you!  But you are right, of course.  I have scarcely mentioned Mr. Langford, and so you will naturally assume it is because I am besotted with him.  Tis too true for me to deny, though I fancy myself delusional should I believe myself the only eligible young woman to take notice of him. 

In the pump room yesterday, I overheard the Misses Creighton praising his "pleasing open brow and friendly countenance."  Miss McKinnon has often noted to me that Mr. Langford is so fortunate to have access to his inheritance at 23.  She believes his income to be about four or five thousand a year and that his sisters are each to have 10,000£.  Besides noting his being financially well-endowed and handsome, however, I find no other young ladies who appear to recognize his superiority to most other men in a far more worthy aspect.  His wit, humour, knowledge of the world, conversation, eloquence, vocabulary, and overall-pleasing manner cannot help but win the heart of any woman with an iota of perception. 

I may only hope Mr. L. could find enough similarity between our two characters to encourage him to choose me for a wife.  What high hopes I have!  So much room I leave myself for Disappointment! 

Please find me your ever devoted and loving (though lapsed in rapid correspondence) sister,

Evelyn

My hands are getting worn out.  I've written 4 letters by hand tonight before typing this post.  I'll type the second letter as another post.  Adieu!  (Or to quote young Jane Austen, "Adeiu!")