Great Expectations or, But What About My Marriage?

Maggie Jaimeson, a.k.a Maggie McVay-Lynch, President of Rose City Romance Writers and published author of non-fiction while daringly also throwing her hat into the romance fiction ring, got into this mess, uh, was forced to blog- well, let's just say she asked a question, so I asked her to answer it for us. She kindly assented after really minimal arm-twisting, and here's the result.

You can check Maggie and her books out at her website here:
http://www.maggiejaimeson.com/

and her blog here:
http://maggies-meanderings.blogspot.com/

As a reward to herself for finishing a book, Maggie makes herself a "faux" cover for it. You can see her covers below. As a reward for Maggie for being my first daring blogger, I made her a "faux" cover for this blog. You can reward Maggie by dropping by and reading what she has to say, and arguing or agreeing with her thoughts. It's a really interesting question, and a thoughtful answer. (Unlike my punny faux cover).(And no, Maggie doesn't write Georgians.)


Great Expectations: What About My Marriage?

I have been a romance reader since about the age of eleven or twelve. I began with the gothics by Victoria Holt and Phyllis Whitney in my youth. Thank goodness in those days there wasn't a lot of sex to worry or confused the rather sheltered adolescent I was. In High School I joined a couple of the Harlequin book clubs and had my eight books a month to devour. In college, I would occasionally pick up a romance at the bookstore but they were no longer the category ones. They tended to be what is now called Women's Fiction. But more often I would pick up a Science Fiction book because I was taken with the exchange of ideas. Then there was a long period of time, about 15 years when I didn't read a romance at all. I returned in my fifties to find, to my great delight, that the romance genre had changed drastically and I could now combine my desire for a mystery or SF story with a romance.

As I have watched the divorce rates rise, and have been divorced and remarried myself, I've wondered how my early upbringing with romance novels may have impacted my expectations of marriage. When I see many women today, young and old alike, choosing not to marry (either choosing to live with a partner or to retain independent households even when they are in committed relationships) I've often wondered if the romance genre or any media portrayal of romance has had a negative impact on our ability to be satisfied in a romantic relationship. Have we set the expectations too high? Are novels and media so powerful as to make us dysfunctional? Or is it the dysfunctional who seek out the salve of unrealistic love?

I came of age in the late 1960's and early 1970's with the rise of feminism. In that era there was a great deal of discussion about the portrayal of women in fairy tales as magical figures who are often defined by beauty, danger, innocence, malice, and greed. Researchers called fairy and folk tales the primary source of information about a culture, and argued that humans cannot help acting out roles taught to them by these tales, which specify gendered romantic roles. Because women are depicted as either evil or saintly, the real terror of fairy tales lies in the romantic message--that is, a woman who is not passive, innocent, and helpless must then be evil. And I still find that these fairy tale type roles continue to be the primary images of women in movies and TV. I believe those early romance novels I read also reflected those fairy tale gender roles. Women were usually innocent and men were experienced. Women were passive and men were the leaders.

Though our novels have now changed to reflect more equal gender roles, romance novels still serve as a powerful source of expectations about love relationships. For the most part, romance novels still depict "alpha" heroes. That is take charge men who are larger than life and, of course, physically perfect. Though many novels have "wounded" heroes, they are still able to overcome their pasts and be amazingly whole, particularly in their relationships with their romantic partner. Yes, it is true that now the female protagonists are also take charge women who are larger than life and, at least in the heroe's eyes, physically perfect. I must admit, for myself, though I can be just as interested as younger women in the spectacularly masculine phallic power, for me what really truns me on is the hero's capacity for tenderness, self-reflection, and attentive concern.

When I look at my own marriage, particularly if we've had a bad day together or a bad week, I know I often wonder why my DH isn't more like the romance heroes I read. Why can't he rise above the banality of every day life? Why can't he put aside whatever perceived perturbance ruined his day and still worship the ground I walk on? Or for that matter, does he ever worship the ground I walk on? Uh, I don't think so. On the other hand, often when reading a book with a strong alpha hero I also know there is absolutely NO WAY I could have a long term relationship with that type of man. In fact, it is when my DH acts like those typical alpha heroes -- the I-can't-see-past-my-immediate-needs behavior that I want to walk out the door. So both in the novel and in real life I find that my expectations and the clash of reality and fantasy certainly set up a strong cognitive dissonance for me.

In 1991, Shapiro (a researcher and marriage counselor) did a large survey on the impact of media images around romance and, as expected, she found that respondents with more unrealistic beliefs about romantic love reported significantly less satisfaction with their current relationship than those who endorsed more realistic views. There was a statistically significant trend for married women who reported more exposure to popular media to rate themselves as less satisfied with their current intimate relationships. No significant differences were found based on age. Granted her study included all media, not just romance novels. But still...it makes me wonder.

I've found a way to embrace that dissonance in my life. Perhaps it is a matter of age and perhaps it is a matter of having been married before and so entering the next relationship with different expectations. However, I do still want more. I do still want and expect some of what I read in romance novels. A part of that expectation is that things are bigger, better, get resolved faster and that makeup sex is amazing. Sometimes I get it. Often I don't. I think that's the way life is and if it was perfect all the time I would probably not recognize it or take it for granted. Maybe having high expectations is a good thing. Maybe it makes both of us strive for more. Who knows?

Do you feel that romance novels set up unrealistic expectations for your relationships? If so, how do you bring yourself down to earth? How do you manage to be satisfied in the long term? If you believe that the romance depicted in the novels is, in fact, not only possible but probable then please share how you've seen that reinforced in your own relationships. Happy reading!

The Gentleman Wore Lace

When I think of a contemporary man wearing lace, the immediate image that comes to mind is of my very Alpha step-son. Strong-jawed, tanned, six-foot-four, muscle-rippling and lean as a fence post, you'd get a fist in the face if you tried to force him into a dandy's cravat, not to even consider the thick ruffs of lace so prized by gentlemen in the 16th and 17th Centuries. He's no wimp.

But masculinity was not always expressed by T shirts and billed caps with Mariners emblems prominently displayed. And although we understand suits of armor, chain mail (really should be called just mail) and 19th Century military uniforms decorated with miles of gold braid (called lace), some male clothing of the past really makes us wonder. Were the European aristocratic men of the early modern age "wusses", as my step-son would call them?
When you look at their portraits, you can clearly see the arrogance and great pride in their silk hose, velvet doublets. And lace. Just how many yards of lace did they manage to cram into those incredible ruffs, anyway?

Actually that was exactly their point. How much lace could they wear at any given time?

The man you see in this engraving is Sir Christopher Hatton, a distant relative of mine, who was Lord Chancellor of England and a favorite of Queen Elizabeth I. Although he does bear a strong resemblance to my youngest brother, I'm not bragging about him, though- he was utterly villainous. So he's not hero material.
But he was a very powerful person in his day, and there is no question that the Queen owed much of her success in staying on the throne through her long reign to him. Villain he might be, but he's no wuss. either.

It all goes back to the instinct for survival, one of the most basic of all drives. For all the written history of Europe, masculinity has been about power. Survival has been about power, which was largely about the accumulation of wealth and the conspicuous display of it. To survive a famine, one needed a great stockpile of food. To survive winter, a warm shelter was needed. To survive in the face of danger, the shelter needed to be secure. Such strength also meant survival for his family, clan, or country as well, and so the stronger male attracted more attention from females than a weaker one. Display of wealth became an aid to securing female interest just as surely as brightly colored males in many species of birds. So status symbols have been important to males for a very long time. We love luxury because it automatically triggers thoughts of safety, filled stomachs and solid roofs over our heads.

Take a look at today's economy, and you can see just how much the bottom line of survival means to people, even now. And never in history did money so strongly represent survival. Today most of us can't go live in the woods and shoot deer to stay alive. Money is the currency of survival. Money is power.

Although the precursors of lace go far back into the Middle Ages and perhaps even longer, true lace as we know it did not come into fashion until the 16th Century, when it suddenly exploded into popularity. Being full of holes, lace doesn't keep one warm, so only someone who has no worries about the supply of firewood can afford to dress in it. And it was very expensive, for the intricate designs require hundreds of hours of labor. Some forms of lace can take a full month of long hours of labor to produce a single inch, in length, and only a few inches wide. Going back to my ancestor's portrait, I made a guess on the amount of lace in his ruff, which I figure has about 50 folds of lace, times 2, close to 3.5 inches deep. That's 350 inches of lace, over 9 yards or 28 feet. And we said a month to make each inch of it? What would some manufactured piece in today's market cost us if it took a hundred thousand hours to make?

As the European world emerged from Medieval times, England in particular experienced an enormous surge in personal wealth. A building boom, along with the building of ships to sail to the New World and defend the English shores helped denude the country of its trees. And everywhere, men sought to display to the world their success. What better way than on their own bodies?

If the wearing of lace tells the world a man is wealthy, then the more lace a man could wear, the more powerful and wealthier he would be in the eyes of beholders. Flat lace collars gave way to ruffles of lace, which in turn became more deeply and densely ruffled to the point where no more lace could physically be packed into the ruff. Cuffs were the same. Stealing and smuggling lace makers, then lace patterns and secrets of production into England became a thriving business. But as costs lowered, its great popularity also led to its eventual fall from favor. By the early 19th Century, gentlemen had found other ways to display their wealth, such as watches dangling on gold chains and decorated with not one but several fobs. And the lace ruff became merely the descendant of the dandy's elaborate linen cravat.

Today, you're lucky to get a hero to wear a tie. The open shirt look that is common even in the business office today would cause fainting by being viewed by more fragile women of an earlier day. But in the 16th through 19th Century a bared neck was not just scandalous, it was the symbol of a man who was so poor he couldn't afford to keep his own throat warm. And did women care? You bet they did. Those were the days when very few women had any way to make a viable income of their own, no matter how hard they worked. Nor could they hope future generations would prosper if they did not actually produce a future generation, and one with enough financial security that it could hope to do well.

No, the gentleman who wore lace was not effeminate. He was in fact the Alpha male of his day, as strongly masculine as any man in history.

Got 'Em!

Need I say anything? Okay,you twisted my arm. My first Samhain author copies,for APHRODITE'S BREW! And there I am in my sweats, and you even get to see how I look without a spot of makeup. But at least I'm not wearing my dorky computer glasses, and the books outshine me so that's just fine! Already got two promised out, too.

Delle

Haddon Hall: The Hall That Made a Man Into a Hero

I confess. I stole Haddon Hall. I whisked it away, stone by stone and beam by rafter, and moved it to a setting of my own, nestled in the crook of a river that looks suspiciously like the River Wye. Yes, I hoped to hide my crime by moving a few walls and making them taller. I moved the kitchen and added odd staircases and privies, and a portcullis. I even gave it a new name, Steynes Hall, and a new owner, Thomas Steynes, Viscount Savoury, whose ancestors I also invented. But I could not disguise it enough, as I discovered when I went to England.


If it weren't for Haddon Hall, I probably wouldn't have made the trip. True, there were hundreds of places in England I have always wanted to see, but that was the real problem. Too many places, and no way to decide which ones I was willing to pass up. But when I began to write LADY WICKED, a Golden Heart winning story, I discovered Haddon Hall as a possible model setting. And the more I learned, the more I was fascinated. It became the one place I had to see. It became the place that would change my hero from an aimless rake to a man with purpose, destiny and love.

Before we left, my friend Margo, who went with me, read my manuscript to see Steynes Hall first in her imagination, and then go to Haddon Hall to see for herself if I got it right. My son Andy, our companion and driver, had also read parts of the book and probably wanted to know why his mom could get so excited about old buildings. I wanted to know both if I "got it right" and if the old buildings were as wonderful as I believed, but also if my alterations were really possible.

I'm not going to take you into the history of the hall, nor show most of its most famous sites. For that you can go to the official Web site, http://www.haddonhall.co.uk/. And on my website, www.dellejacobs.com, I have posted some more pictures and an account of the story behind the pages of LADY WICKED.

Now, come and cross with me the busy road from the car park (taking your life in your hands) to the entrance gate. Once past the gate, we enter a different world, a pastoral world with sheep grazing alongside a tiny, shallow river. Beside the river on the left, I had hoped to see a small stone cottage that once stood there, the one that would have been Davina's home that she rented from my hero. But it is gone now. Or it may be that the artist who did the engraving placed the still-standing cottage below the stables in a slightly different location. Back then, artists often re-arranged scenes for artistic purposes. Standing on the ancient stone bridge, we look up on the hill ahead to the gray stone of the walled manor that is Haddon Hall. It seems to me my hero had a steeper climb when he left his sweetheart's cottage to return to his hall.

I gave his hall an ancient, rusting portcullis that he had to tie up to keep it from falling on people. Haddon Hall has no such gate, but instead has two wooden gates, the outer one with a small door within one of the bigger doors, that would admit only one person at a time. I like my portcullis and try to imagine where it would have been.

Once past the gate passage, we come to a row of uneven, worn, stone steps set at right angles to the building, and leading to the sloping, paved courtyard. There's the lantern tower where Savoury would go to look out over his land, but I see immediately that the artist who gave it that name was wrong. It's a bell tower for the chapel. We sit inside the tiny chapel, surrounded by quiet serenity, and try to picture the color that must have enlivened the tracery and paintings on the walls. The bell chimes the noon hour. It is a warm, mellow, welcoming sound, like open arms set to music.

Now, here's a surprise that's not in the story. See Margo standing in the stone doorway? She's all of five foot nothing tall. It's commonly thought men of Medieval times were pretty small compared to today, so does that explain the really low lintel? Well, first, they weren't all that small after all, at least not the upper class of Norman descent. And second, most of the passageways and doors are at least as high as modern doorways, or considerably higher (especially where horses or wagons might have to pass). Why this one so low, then? I didn't know until I got home and looked through my research. This outer range of rooms lying on the downhill slope was there before the courtyard was paved. At first it was just a wall, and then chambers built along it. The very steep slope had to be filled in before the stone paving could be laid, but it couldn't be completely leveled or the windows and doors would be buried, and there is no access outside tha walls. So they compromised, ending up with very low entrances and more gently sloping courtyard. It's very weird walking on sloping pavers, but it's a marvelous example of Medieval practical engineering. And although I didn't write this little doorway into my story, I did try hard to capture the essence of the four hundred years of building and evolving architecture.

The hall to the left of the entrance is so dramatic, we can't help but go there. That's Margo on the left. And here's an old engraving showing how it would have looked to Savoury when he walked with Davina in the courtyard in the moonlight.

My next surprise is inside the Great Hall. I had pictured a huge, cavernous place like a cathedral. But it isn't that big. And the ringing footsteps I imagined are muted instead, the sound absorbed by wood-paneled walls and a grasscloth-like carpet to protect the floor. In the hall's dim light, I can't tell if the floor is stone or wood, but I anxiously hurry on, to see as much as I can in the short time we have here. So I don't really get much of a picture of Savoury and his Davina when they almost kissed in the dark shadows of the hall.

In the far corner, steps worn by the passage of thousands of footfalls over time take us up to the Great Chamber, and on to the breathtaking Long Gallery. But before we go there, take a look at the gates at the base of the stairs. Dog gates, to keep the dogs downstairs. Fewer fleas in the beds that way. There is no dog in my story until the last chapter. But see the missing slats in the lattice? I can see Daisy as just the kind of dog who would have seen to their demise in order to get to her people.

Up the stairs, now, and to the left to the Long Gallery. You can see this bright, beautiful, long room on the Haddon Hall Web site. I'm choosing instead to show you one of the lovely small bays. Savoury's Elizabethan ancestors would have spent many a dreary winter day walking here, with ambient light pouring through the many windows on each side. Here he hung the paintings he and Davina treasured. Some of the glass in this lovely square bay is only 4 mm thick. Several windows in the house have some stained glass, especially in the chapel, and many rooms have glass set in intricate patterns. The hall is also known for its wonderful collection of tapestries, but these are difficult to photograph because they must be kept in low light environments to help preserve them.

Now, a quick dash back through the hall, back to the kitchen on its far side. This is where you roast an ox whole! But for Savoury, it was the bane of his existence, for nothing he could do could make the kitchen chimneys draw. He built a new kitchen, much as the real owners of Haddon Hall turned the stable into their modern kitchen and arranged a tram-like device to carry the food up the hill to their dining chamber.

In his efforts to make his hall livable, Savoury found an ancient, very narrow passage (near these stone stairs) hidden between two stone walls, and in cleaning it out, he found a single small shoe, and he began to think of the generations who had lived in this house before him. They had never mattered before. Now they began to walk with him in the mists of night, and he began to feel for the first time that he belonged to them and this hall, the place he wanted to share with his love.

Now we go out to the gardens where Savoury and his love walked and made love in the moonlight. Savoury had the advantage of the more modern gardens you see here, for Davina had a knack for growing things. The fountain is 20th century, but it seems so much a part of the hall, it's hard to believe it hasn't been there for a few hundred years.

Last, look over the garden wall with me, down the valley at Dorothy Vernon's Bridge, where that famous ancestor of the Manners family is said to have passed when she eloped with her love, John Manners. Maybe, maybe not. But she seems sort of like the shades of Savoury's ancestors who walked with him in the moonlight, who taught him about heritage and belonging, as did his marvelous, frustrating hall that demanded so much of him but gave him everything he really needed in return, including his love.

So now I've seen where Savoury and Davina walked, lived and loved. And along with his home, purloined though it was, I have a newer, deeper appreciation of my hero. Someday I'll go back to England in search of more heroes and their places. But I doubt if there will ever be any in my mind to equal the sense of being I found at Haddon Hall.

Yes, that's the heroine on my imaginary cover, standing before Dorothy Vernon's Bridge, and yes, the title refers to a woman. But like so many romances, the story is really the hero's story because Lord Savoury is the one who finds himself, his home, his place in the world, and his love. Though their story is still unpublished, I believe someday it will find its home where everyone can read it.

Getting On With the Search

I'm posting Tuesday because tomorrow is New Year's Eve. Not too many people around on that day!

Do you know this guy? Yes, you saw him yesterday, in the original black and white photo. This rendering came about quite by accident, when I was just following whims, trying out new ideas. It's become symbolic to me of Romance Heroes in general, and mine in particular. He has a dramatically unreal quality about him, like a bronze statue, a monument to heroes. I knew his story the minute his image evolved. I haven't written it yet, but it's on my list to do this year.

Now, back to business:

For Starters, I've made a list of topics I'd like to explore. Thisis just a rough list, and some ideas overlap. But overlap can be good, because it means looking at something from a different angle. I have a few guest bloggers lined up, and would like to have a lot more, and I'll be interested in not-yet published authors, readers and other publishing professionals as well as published authors. So if you have an idea or topic and would like to share, let me know. Photos and other visual aids are always welcome.

Are there other topics you'd like to discuss? If so, and you don't want to do a blog yourself, let me know. If there's an angle to heroes, there's certain to be an author who can write about it. And if you have favorite authors who write really great heroes, please suggest them. Lots of authors love to talk about their heroes!

Great Expectations, or, But What About My Marriage?
- Maggie Jamieson, President of Rose City Romance Writers
I Need a Hero
Romance and Real Life
What Romance Heroes Do For Us
Real Life Heroes
Authors on their Favorite Fictional Heroes
Author Slants on Heroes
The Hero's Story
Living the Fantasy
Ancient Heroes
Regency Heroes
Fantasy Heroes
Contemporary Heroes
Writing the Musician Hero
- Genene Valleau, author of Song of My Heart
The Hero-Making Process
Heroic Types
Alpha Males
Beta Males
The Dark Hero
The Wounded Hero
The Wrong Hero
Is There a Market for Nerds?
The Hero Market
What the Reader Wants
Sexy Heroes
Reforming Heroes
Where's the Line Between Alpha and Jerk?
Adventure
Travel
Exotic Heroes
Adolescent to Adult Changes
The Evolving Hero
Hero and the Heroine
Making Sparks Fly

What Do You Mean, Only One Hero?

Only one hero? You've got to be kidding! We all know heroes are what romance is all about.

It's kind of a paradox, though, that the heroine in a romance is expected (yeah I know, times are changing) to have only One True Love. Maybe she's been married before, is a widow, had an adolescent fantasy. But we all know it wasn't her One True Love because finding the OTL is the reason for this very book we're reading. There can be only One True Love, right?

But wait a minute. When we finish that book, with our heroine having successfully achieved her goal (whether she understood it was her goal or not), what do we do? We go hunting for another book and repeat our experience of being the heroine, sharing in her quest. Maybe she only gets one OTL, but not us, the readers. Too bad for her. More for us.

Even more so, the romance author indulges in this search for the Perfect Hero, over and over, as she generates new stories. So many heroes, so little time. Yet we treat each one as if he is the One and Only. Serial hero worship? And as much as I, the reader or writer, fall in love with the hero, the moment I reach "The End" he becomes a memory, and I'm off looking for the next One True Love (a.k.a. One True Hero, One and Only).

What does that make me? Dear Mama in Heaven, cover your ears. I'm about to use one of those words again. Never mind, bowing to the certain knowledge that Mama-Up-There hears every word I utter, let's just say I'm profligate. According to dictionary.com:
profligate adj. utterly and shamelessly immoral or dissipated.

Or maybe wanton is a better term:
adj. sexually lawless or unrestrained; loose; lascivious; lewd: wanton behavior.

Yep. Seems to fit, at least as far as Hero Searching is concerned.

I don't care what we call it, I love it. The search for the hero is as important as his story, perhaps even more so. There are thousands of factors in finding the perfect hero for any given story, and as often as not, once the hero is found, he re-writes what I thought the story would be. It is, after all, his story, not mine.

So there are thousands of topics to explore In Search of Heroes. Everything from who he is, who is his heroine, what makes him heroic, to what is his story and how is it written. There are the actual Searches, which could mean travel, to wonderful places like Bath and Haddon Hall, Italy's Pompeii and Rome, Hawaii's Kaua'i, the Mayan ruins of the Yucatan. It could mean deep research in books, where we could extract little known facts on which to build stories. Maybe specific heroes who deserve noting. And since I also love to paint my hero's picture on book covers and elsewhere, I'll show you lots of my artwork and provide you lots of links to favorite heroes and their lives.

This blog is for fun. Because we love heroes. And, being women of the 21st Century, we love them with brazen openness. Here's where we can celebrate our quest for the One True Hero.

Holiday Greetings!