Dogs and name calling

I was thinking about pen names today and the discussion we've been having about why we choose a particular name and why we feel we need a different name to write what we do. It comes back to what we call what we write. For most of us here, I think the label erotic historical romance writer sits quite comfortably on our shoulders. But for some people there is no such thing as erotic romance. It's just another name for erotica or smut or porn.

And we're all individuals, and different words produce different emotional responses. Personally, I don't mind being told I write smut, and sometimes I'm aware that I'm treading a delicate line between erotic romance and erotica but I definitely don't write porn. Our sub-genre is so new and boundary breaking that the lines are always blurring and the definitions are a changing. I like to think of myself and all these great authors on this blog as pioneers.

I'm climbing down off my soap box here to tell you why I chose my pen name. It was quite simple, really. I kept Kate because I know I'll never remember to answer to anything else and I chose Pearce, well, because it's a family name and as my family don't really approve of what I write, it gives me a little giggle every time I see it on a book cover.

The picture at the top is from a painting by Sir Edwin Landseer, entitled 'Cavalier's Pets'. What does it have to do with your blog today, I hear you ask? Well not much, except that I'd love to write a book about the English Civil War (Cavaliers and Roundheads.) The dogs in the painting are called Cavalier King Charles Spaniels and I have one who is the spitting image on the dog on the right. My little piece of living history and a true romantic despite his small stature.

Here's wishing everyone a splendid Valentines Day!

One-and-a-half-handed reading

For me the writing process started a long, long time ago, even if I didn't actually begin writing until fairly recently--rather like Flora Poste in Cold Comfort Farm (one of my favorite books) who claims that she's going to gather material and then, when she's fifty, write a book as good as Mansfield Park. I believe voice is something you accumulate from your experiences, culture, and above all, your reading. And since we've been talking quite a bit here about what books we read in our formative years that have stayed with us and made us into the filthmongers we are, I thought I'd share mine.

The dirty book of my generation was Lady Chatterley's Lover. Copies of it, pawed over so much they fell open at the "good bits," were passed around surreptitiously at my all-girls high school (a very old-fashioned place with uniforms, lesbian gym teachers, the lot). All those rude words! All that running around in the rain with flowers in places flowers don't usually go! Pics here are from the BBC's Lady Chatterley's Lover (1992) starring the lovely and talented Sean Bean and directed by Ken Russell, who also directed one of my favorite movies of all time, Women in Love. And here's a very Ken-Russell-like shot from the production. But seriously, who doesn't fantasize about naked men crucified with flowers while out on a quiet afternoon hack?

Trouble is, D. H. Lawrence got women's sexuality all wrong, in my opinion--poor old Connie doesn't have a "proper" orgasm until she allows the virile working-class gamekeeper into her mantrap. No kidding, he and Freud were responsible for a generation (at least) of Englishmen's incompetent fumbling. (Well, you didn't come because you're not a real woman. Of course they wouldn't admit to wanting to sleep with their mum...) On the other hand, you have to (almost) forgive someone who could write this (quoted by Alan Bates in Women in Love--you must see that movie):

The proper way to eat a fig, in society
Is to split it in four, holding it by the stump,
And open it, so that it is a glittering, rosy, moist, honied, heavy-petalled, four-petalled flower.

Oh, wow. Read the whole poem, Figs, here. There's some wonderful stuff before he goes into a DHL-like rant, as he tends to, and apologies to those who've heard all this before from me.

As for other early influences, Jane Eyre, of course. All that...discipline. I do hope we'll talk about Jane Eyre later--it's worth at least one post and lots of discussion, but I'll share this with you. Last year, some letters came to light that suggested Charlotte Bronte barely escaped court action over her portrayal of Lowood School and Mr. Brocklehurst. You can read the whole story here.


And another book I've always loved, The Secret Garden, by Frances Hodgson Burnett, is absolutely fascinating and I'll talk about that next time.

Thoughts, anyone?

And you do know the difference between erotica and pornography, don't you? If you need two hands to hold the book, it's erotica ...

A Special Announcement

Congratulations to Melissa aka Meljprincess!
Why?
Take a look at our header. Melissa came up with the term crumpet strumpet, and we all liked it so much we borrowed it and have awarded her a special prize. Melissa, please send pam@pamrosenthal.com your contact info!

Of noms de plume--and the contest winner!

I wanted to take on a nom de plume for my erotic historical novels that had some meaning--at least to me. Some kind of sly, wink-wink allusion, since I didn't want to use my real name.

My first choice was Colleen Réage, which anyone who's read The Story of O will understand immediately...and for those of you who haven't, well, get thee to a library and snatch up a copy. Note the author's name, and then enjoy the read.

The Story of O influenced my erotic writing quite a bit, and that and the A. N. Roquelaure (aka Anne Rice) books really set me off. (Although, admittedly, before that I'd glommed all the Bertrice Small Skye O'Malley historicals, and had delved into Ordeal: The Story of Linda Lovelace.)

So, anyway, now that you know my influences, you'll have an idea of what to expect in Unmasqued when it hits the shelves in August.

Anyway, I digress. (Get used to it. It happens a lot.)

My editor, much as I love her, didn't love my wink-wink choice of Colleen Réage, so she suggested I think of something else.

So I thought again and came up with Colette (as in the infamous Colette) as the first name. It was close enough to my real name that I might even 1) actually answer to it, and 2) remember what letters to write when I'm signing that name.

But for a last name...I was stumped.

Then about the time I had to actually give the final name to my editor, a long-awaited item arrived in the post. It's an adult comic book collection called Lost Girls, and it was created by the talented Alan Moore (The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen) and Melinda Gebbie.

The first installment of Lost Girls had come out in the format of a regular comic book about fifteen years ago, and I bought the original and then the next two editions. Then they stopped.

Now fifteen years later, the entire, complete collection, as planned, was released in a leather bound trilogy and in a slipcase. I'd ordered it three months earlier, and it finally arrived. And it was gorgeous.

What is Lost Girls, you ask? Get to the meat of the matter, Colette. (That was Jane, I'm sure. She's always concerned with meat.)

Anyway, Lost Girls is an erotic story about three women, grown up from the lost girls they were in children's literature: Wendy, from Peter Pan, Alice from Alice in Wonderland, and Dorothy Gale from The Wizard of Oz.

They're all grown up now, and they have different things from their youthful adventures that influence them as they explore their sexuality.

Alice has a laudanum addiction, and she has an intense fascination with a looking glass...Wendy and her husband have a very cool, reserved relationship, but their shadows are much more passionately involved...and Dorothy...well, she's a naive little girl from Kansas who becomes very experimental and daring in her sexual exploits. (Can't imagine why I chose her name, huh?)

It's an extremely well-done story--everything from the art to the themes and undercurrents is brilliant. I haven't read the whole three volumes yet; I've been savoring it. But I love it.

Anyway, that, my friends, is how I came up with my nom de plume.

Oh, and the contest winner of our Grand Unveiling Contest is:
SETON

Please post a comment with your email address so we can get in touch with you about your winnings (lucky devil!).

Who would *you* do?

If you scroll down, you’ll see today’s little contest -- ask me an interview question and I’ll answer it. (Although, you know, I reserve the right to save it for my next post if it’s gonna be a long or a good story!)

Meanwhile, let’s pick up the interview where we left off.

If I could “do” one person from the Regency period, who would it be?

An obvious answer is Byron. By all reports, the guy was quite the playboy. One would presume he also knew his way around. Wouldn’t it be marvelous to be in a villa near Geneva with the Shelleys and Byron? ... Exercising in the fresh air, pontificating literature and writing by roaring fires and being well-bedded at night.

The only woman to complain of his lovemaking was his wife -- for unspecified reasons that the gossips of the day just boiled over speculating about. And Caroline Lamb’s saying that he was mad, bad and dangerous to know is enticing -- but it’s an accurate description of the woman herself. The poor woman found herself locked away because Byron bored of her (although I seem to recall some discussion that she had a few curls loose).

Anyway. In my heart of hearts (or lust of lusts), the one Regency man I’d do in a heartbeat would be the Duke of Wellington.

Yeah, I know. Totally unavailable. (Assuming for the moment that he’s not approximately 150 years dead.) But isn’t it the unavailable ones that you want most of all?

He’s unavailable in that he ragged on his brothers for having affairs, although I think his disgust had more to do that they aired their dirty linen in public. (His older brother ended up marrying his mistress if I remember right. Feel free to correct me. My many Wellington biogs are all downstairs and I don’t want to disturb the doggies.)

If the gossips are right, he wasn’t immune to females either, despite his estranged marriage. At the Congress of Vienna, he was linked with the opera singer Grassini. In Brussels, Lady Paget remarked that he kept company with some disreputable women. And of course, in his later years, Mrs. Arthbutnot. (I’m sure I’ve spelled that wrong.)

But give him to me young and virile, the “alpha” leader on the eve of battle, when tomorrow’s breaths may be his last.... *sigh* Let’s face it. Wellington wouldn’t have put up with that sighing rot for a millisecond.

And that’s the other attractive thing about him. That crisp upper lip, the inscrutable veddy English air. These authentic hallmarks of unavailability are just soo enticing.

It makes me want to see his facade crumble and reveal the vulnerable human underneath. And have that unguarded expression be all mine, baby.

*fans self*

Gods, where is that tea...

Ahem. I think I have to stop writing about rakes in my books and write about a stiff hero instead.

(No, no, not that kind of stiff. The stiff upper lip kind. Get your mind out of the gutter!)

MADE FOR SIN is now available

Out now.... MADE FOR SIN by Celia May Hart
Kensington Aphrodisia
ISBN: 0-7582-1465-0

Two very different sisters with one thing in common--the good fortune to find men who'll show them how heavenly sin can be...

Lucy Waverton's wild escapades are the talk of the ton. Fleeing the notorious Earl of Radbourne's carriage after a delicious seduction, she meets a soldier whose hard body and rebellious streak stir her newly awakened desires. Sergeant Michael Hall may be low born, but his every caress takes Lucy higher and higher, into a realm of pure carnal ecstasy...

Searching the country for her reckless younger sister, Caroline Waverton instead finds herself in the company of the rogue who reputedly ruined Lucy. Alex Radbourne is decadent, depraved, and devilishly skilled at uncovering Caroline's secret, forbidden desires. The refined Miss Caroline has a thoroughly wanton side, and though each knows the affair is wrong, nothing could feel more right than surrendering to sinfully erotic abandon...

Okay, so now that you’ve read through this, ask Celia May Hart a question by replying to this post and continue her infamous self-interview. One random person (who actually asks a question) will get a set of autographed Celia May Hart bookcovers sent to them.

Dare to Take a Bite with Sharon Page

I'm Sharon Page, and I'd love to sit back with a cup of tea and introduce myself.

I wrote my first erotic story in high school on a manual typewriter, hampered by a certain lack of experience, and inspired by Erica Jong’s ‘Fear of Flying’ and ‘Fanny’, which opened my eyes to the pleasure of historical erotic romance. Back then I could actually check ‘Fanny’ out of the library—now, in my local library, it’s only available by special request. Funny the ways in which things change!

It took a few years of dealing with a real job, a house that desperately needed renovation, and my first child, before I began writing erotic romance again, but I am so delighted that I did. What’s changed since I wrote that first book? Well, that book was about a young woman’s journey of self-discovery as she tried to chose between two men (also it's still in my file drawer). But in my newest release, Blood Red, my heroine doesn’t have to choose.

A vampire story set in Regency England, Blood Red is my first ménage a trois story. It seemed to me that the vampire story is so passionate and so intense, and of course, the drinking of blood is so intimate, that a sweeping and conflicted love story was called for. And what could be more intense than twin brothers in pursuit of the heroine? As a vampire huntress, my heroine is defying the rules of her Society and the wishes of her father—he’s rather have her make a happy marriage and produce grandchildren for him to bounce on his knee.

That’s what I love about writing historical erotic romance. My heroines take a lot of risks to get what they want in life and in the bedroom. They might be the sort of ladies to enjoy a polite cup of tea, but they are strong women who are unafraid to claim the intimacy and pleasure they know they deserve.

It’s wonderful to have a chance to say ‘hi’, and now it’s back to that cup of tea and copy edits for me. Just so you know, I have two books in stores—Sin (about a woman who draws erotic art) and Blood Red. And I’m such a Regency addict that the hero of my contemporary vampire story in the Wild Nights anthology is a Regency male, of course!