Enjoying cliché - Writing Tips from Helen Hollick, author of Ripples in the Sand

Today I'm delighted to welcome Helen Hollick, author of the bestselling Arthurian Trilogy which includes 'The Kingmaking', and now releasing her fourth book about the pirate, Captain Jesamiah Acorne. 

Hi Helen, I am looking forward to reading about Jesamiah Acorne. What for you makes a good hero, a good heroine and a good villain, and how do you make them believable and not a cliché for a modern reader?

In some ways, the clichéd hero, heroine and villain is partly expected and therefore enjoyed, but this depends on the book, the characters and the plot! I suppose my Jesamiah is a little clichéd in the fact that he is tall, dark, and good looking. He is the sort of hero you wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley if you’d previously upset him – quick to smile, but formidable when angry – you can rely on him to be there (cutlass or pistol in hand) when he’s needed. He isn’t fazed by danger, won’t tolerate unnecessary cruelty or disrespect to women, but is not always ‘polite’ with his language. (He is a pirate, and pirates don’t use genteel language do they?) He is more than capable of getting drunk if the rum is available, and his morals slip occasionally when there’s a good-looking woman tempting him. But he is loyal to his men, and would give his life for his woman, Tiola – indeed he took a flogging on her behalf in the second Voyage, Pirate Code.

A heroine needs to be tough-minded, to know what she wants and be determined to get it. She must be true to her cause (be that her ‘quest’ or her man), capable of chucking the teddies out the cot when riled, but balance that with love without condition. As for the villain – the more dastardly the better *laugh*.

The adventures (and some tricky situations) that Jesamiah finds himself in possibly are clichéd – you know that if he is in trouble he is going to get out of it, as in any hero-type novel or movie, but the trick is to write at a good pace, keeping the pages turning and for the reader not to be able to guess how the hero gets out of trouble! Belief has to be suspended by action. No one believes any of the situations in the James Bond or Indiana Jones movies – but so what? They are not meant to be believed, they are meant to be enjoyed as a bit of escapism fun.

Jesamiah is a blend of C.C. Forrester’s Horatio Hornblower, Patrick O’Brian’s Jack Aubrey, Indiana Jones, James Bond and Bernard Cornwell’s Richard Sharpe… with a hefty dash of Captain Jack Sparrow added as a bonus! He has his flaws and weaknesses; he is not all ‘good guy’, there are times when you want to cheer him on – other times you could slap his face. That’s life – especially for an ex-pirate!

I enjoyed your book about writing and editing, 'Discovering the Diamond'. Can you give a historical fiction writer 3 short writing tips from the many 'gems' in your book?

Thank you Deborah – I wrote it with my UK main editor, Jo Field, because we were getting inundated with questions about writing, and found we didn’t have time to keep typing out the same replies. We figured a short, non-expensive, e-format booklet might prove useful, and we are delighted that Discovering the Diamond is serving its purpose and has been well received.

Three tips?

1. Don’t get so bogged down in research that you never get on with writing your story.

2. Don’t use ‘archaic’ language. ‘Gadzooks ye bounder’ might sound authentic, but believe me it is very irritating to read! Likewise, do not use modern language ‘OK’ sounds just as odd.

3. Watch those anachronisms. You cannot have ‘He froze like a rabbit caught in the headlights’ in a novel set in Tudor England where headlights haven’t been invented yet.

Thanks Helen, great tips and thank you for guesting on my blog.

Helen is published by www.silverwoodbooks.co.uk

Having a coffee in the 17th Century

If  I wanted a coffee in the 17th century I would not be asking for a 'latte' or a 'mocha'. In fact coffee then was contoversial and given a few less-than-flattering names.

‘Syrup and soot’ and ‘essence of old shoes’ were just two of the names given to coffee by innkeepers and tavern keepers in the 17^th century. Threatened by the craze for coffee drinking, and fearing for their livelihood, they did everything in their power to close them down. Fortunately they didn’t succeed and today I am able to pop into my local Costa for a coffee and chat with friends just as Pepys did in his day.

Turk's Head, Cambridge coffee house

What would I find if I went into a coffee house in Pepys’s time?

Well I’d have to get a man to accompany me, as women weren’t allowed unless they either owned it or worked there. I’d choose someone like Isaac Newton to be sure of an interesting conversation! I would look for the sign of a Turk’s Head, which often denoted a coffee house because of its Turkish origins.

I would have to pay a penny at the door, which is a fee to say that I agree to the rules of the house. I would undertake not to gamble, swear, quarrel, or mourn over lost love. Obviously the ‘mourning over a lost love’ must have been a big problem! Because of this admission charge and the free exchange of ideas and opinions the coffee houses promoted, in London they became known as “Penny Universities.”

If I inhaled, I might smell the beans roasting, a cause of great worry to bookseller neighbours in a London still mostly half-timbered from Elizabethan times. Inside the house the atmosphere would be acrid and thick with tobacco smoke from innumerable long-stemmed pipes, not to mention the smoke from the damp sea-coal burning in the grate, and thin candles or rush-lights giving off their waxy smell. Add to this the unwashed bodies, delicately perfumed by pomanders, and the tang of perfumed or aromatic snuff, and I can see where the ‘essence of old shoes’ might have come from!

If I managed to brave the stench, then I might be astounded by the noise. Of course there was the hubbub of conversation in the background, interspersed by sneezes from the snuff-takers and the clattering of pots and pans, but also the turning of papers and broadsheets laid out on a long table at the side of the room, the hiss and bubble of the boiling coffee and the spit of the fire. But usually there would be somebody “holding forth”, declaiming on one subject or another, politics being a favourite. I would find  politicians in the Cocoa-Tree in St James’s, whereas Wills Coffee House in Covent Garden was favoured by literati such as Dryden and Pope.

Dryden meets Pope in Wills Coffee House 

In The Gilded Lily the dangerous rogue-about-town, Jay Whitgift, conducts his business in a London coffee house called the Pelican where he meets members of the Wits Club, a group of wealthy courtiers including the Duke of Buckingham and the Earl of Rochester. The antics of the Wits, or the Merry Gang, forever coloured the reputation of Charles’s court. The Pelican was based on Wills Coffee House, the real-life meeting place of the Wits who ‘entertained one another with their trifling composures…as if the fate of kingdoms depended on them’ Jonathan Swift

In a 17^th century coffee house my coffee would be bitter, the beans boiled over the fire for days in ten gallon cauldrons, with the addition of wine, ale, or herbs and spices such as spearmint. I would sip it from a bowl with no handles. No wonder a “Satyr Against Coffee” (1674) called it ‘horse-pond liquor, witches tipple out of dead man’s skulls’ Thank goodness for my latte with a touch of sugar, and my brownie on the side!

In the Economist, 17^th century coffee houses are described as “the internet in a cup”, and they fulfilled exactly this function. One of the things I love about going for a coffee is that it is invariably with friends, and that the conversation and exchange of ideas is as important as the drink. http://www.economist.com/node/2281736

I blog with Hoydens and Firebrands, where you can find another excellent article about coffee houses by Anita Davison.

I can also recommend:

Life in a 17^th century Coffee Shop by David Brandon

The Lives of the English Rakes by Fergus Linnane

Restoration London by Liza Picard

This post first appeared on the great blog HISTORICAL TAPESTRY, why not pop over there for a look at the excellent range of articles, reviews and giveaways.

The Origins of the Quaker Pledge for Peace

'We utterly deny all outward wars and strife and
fighting with outward weapons for any end or under any pretense whatever; this is our testimony to the whole world'









On the 21st November 1660 George Fox, founder of the Society of Friends, or Quakers, drew up a declaration for peace and presented it to the newly restored King, Charles II.

Fox's jounal indicates that the document was suppressed when he tried to publish it, saying that it was taken from the presses by the city authorities.

Notice how on the document, they refer to themselves as 'harmless and innocent' and say the declaration is against 'all plotters and fighters in the world.' These words are specifically to distance themselves from the Fifth Monarchists - a sect led by Thomas Venner who caused about forty deaths in an uprising in January of that year. In fact because of these uprisings the King outlawed Fifth Monarchists, Baptists and Quakers from holding public meetings and all members of these sects were required to take an Oath of Allegiance to the King.

The Fifth Monarchists were a radical religious movement that used both social and political pressure to effect their message and vision of a new religious "Golden Age" which they thought was about to begin, with the literal coming of the Messiah. 

The riot began whenThomas Venner and his men wanted to gain control of St Paul's Church (then not a cathedral) and took his men to a bookseller called Mr. Johnson to demand the Cathedral keys. (Pepy's diary)

Upon being refused they broke in to the shop and accosted passers-by asking who they were for, presumably meaning whether they were for the King (Anglicanism) or for the non-conformists. One answered him "King Charles" and they dispatched him with a shot through the heart. A scuffle ensued and trained bands of soldiers had to be brought in by the monarchy to quell the unrest.

In later days Venner tried to storm the Comptor Prison to liberate the inmates so they could increase their ranks, but they were repulsed in fierce fighting. To give an idea of the brutality of fighting in these times, Venner is said to have killed three men with a halberd in Threadneedle Street.

TheFifth Monarchists made their last stand in two pubs, the Helmet Tavern on Threadneedle Street and the Blue Anchor on Coleman Street. Esconced inside they were only routed when Royalist troops smashed through the clay roof tiles with musket butts and fired down through the ceiling. Venner was captured after being wounded nineteen times, and put to death alomst immediately by hanging.

No wonder Fox and his colleagues sought to dissassociate themselves from Venner's sect.

George Fox at Holker Hall 1662 

Since that time Quakers have kept their peace promise. I have often thought that in earlier times it must have been a much more difficult feat to achieve. In The Lady's Slipper  the Quaker, Richard Wheeler, struggles with the pledge of non-violence. He lives in a society where disputes are settled by the sword. How will he fare when he has to defend the life of the woman he loves?

More about the Peace Declaration can be found here, 

 

Picture from the Kendal Quaker Tapestry http://www.quaker-tapestry.co.uk