Showing posts with label Historical Novel Society. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Historical Novel Society. Show all posts

Wednesday, July 1, 2015

Colorado, Small Swords, HNS and Elizabeth Peters

by Janis Patterson

Greetings from the beautiful state of Colorado! Now you’re probably wondering what a dedicated flat-lander Texas girl like me is doing high up in the mountains. Well, right now I’m having fun.

Seriously, the reason we (The Husband and I) came up to Denver was to attend the Historical Novel Society conference. It’s the first time I’ve ever been to one of these conferences, so I didn’t know what to expect, but when I was invited to speak I had to go – especially since the panel was on Egyptology (one of my main interests, as you  know) and Elizabeth Peters (who was not only one of my favorite authors but a treasured friend.)

Actually, I felt sort of a cheat being there as a conferee let alone a speaker, as so few of my books are historical by any stretch of the imagination – a handful of Victorian gothics, a time travel to Ancient Egypt, a few traditional Regencies, a mystery set right after WWI. I mean, these people are the ones who write stories about medieval royalty and Minoan mysteries and how to do historical research and the problems of linguistics. I felt totally overwhelmed.

I was on a panel with Bill Chirf, Libby Hawker and Lindsay Davis – all proven and respected historical novelists. And me. We had sort of informally split the subject up – Bill took Elizabeth Peters’ (also known as Dr. Barbara Mertz and Barbara Michaels) early life and the attitudes of the times; I took her career from the sale of her first book (a non-fiction Egyptology book called TOMBS, TEMPLES AND HIEROGLYPHS) through her career as a best-selling multi-genre novelist and on to her much-regretted passing in 2013. Libby analyzed how her success affected the market for Egyptian fiction, which was fascinating – even a devotee such as I didn’t realize how she had made it soar. Finally, Lindsay talked about the problems of research. We had a pretty good crowd and some very interesting questions afterward, but what really impressed me was how many people came up to me from the end of the workshop to the close of the conference to tell me how much they liked my presentation. Boy, that felt good!

One fun thing we did was take David Blixt’s Rapier, Short Sword and Dagger workshop. He also did a broadsword workshop, but those things are heavy, and this was very much a hands-on workshop. You do not know what fear is until you are in a fairly small meeting room with about 40 amateurs armed with short swords, rapiers and daggers! We advanced, we fell back, we did forward and back passos (that’s what it sounded like) all the while thrusting and parrying. For some strange reason (because it was an historical conference, perhaps?) I had worn a skirt. A long skirt. I had forgotten how difficult and uncomfortable those things were to wear. Also, to ‘fight’ we in sandals had to remove them and fight barefoot. Unfortunately, The Husband and I were in the same sessions – not everyone could participate at once – so he couldn’t take pictures of me dueling barefoot in a long skirt. Maybe that’s a good thing. David, however, was an excellent teacher (and a bear about safety) so the workshop was a joy.

One thing that was not a joy was the booksigning. There were close to 100 authors by my estimation who were in the signing. The entire second floor atrium of the hotel was lined with tables and authors with big smiles and pens at the ready. The keynote speaker was Diana Gabaldon, of OUTLANDER fame. The booksigning had been advertised locally and we were told a good crowd was expected. And a good crowd came. Miss Gabaldon’s table was set aside at the other end of the room from the rest of us, which was not a bad idea as the aisles were narrow. Except – when the crowd came, they lined up to get to Miss Gabaldon’s table, got their book signed and then left. Very few even glanced at the hundred or so other authors. The most books I heard of being sold by an author other than Miss Gabaldon was four. Four! There was a lot of mutterings and gripings among the authors that a woman who has sold at least a bazillion books was syphoning off potential sales from the rest of us. Sour grapes? Probably, but still very true. It did leave a bad taste in a lot of mouths.

However, the conference ended Sunday at noon, and here we are still in Colorado until the end of the week. It’s called being a tourist. The Husband and I decided it was ridiculous to come all the way to Denver from Dallas just for two and a half days, so after the conference was over we moved down to Colorado Springs. Yesterday we spent at the Garden of the Gods. The Husband had never seen it, and I had only been there once years ago – back when I was a girl in high school.

Wow! Is that a fantastic place. Great shards of rock sticking straight out of the earth. Gargoyle figures sculpted by Nature itself. Rocks the size of a hamlet. All incredibly beautiful. We had planned to spend the morning there and then go on to a mine tour in the afternoon, but at 6:30 we were still in the park. Thinking solely of the conference, I had not brought my camera, but The Husband – a photo-holic – had his, and spent most of the day climbing over rocks and up trails taking pictures. I don’t climb well, so I sat a lot and enjoyed the scenery. It was one of the best days I’ve spent.

We’ve spent hours driving around, exploring the little towns both known and obscure. And shopping. Don’t forget shopping. I have some lovely t-shirts to wear when I want to feel a little bit of Colorado.

And plots. I’ve made notes (skeletal, to be sure, but still viable) on no fewer than three new books. As if I needed more plots. I’m already backed up over four books worth. I need more time, not plots!

But not just yet. Tomorrow we are going to make the mine tour, and perhaps a silver shop and take a look at the Royal Gorge and perhaps the dinosaur museum and… Who knows? Carpe diem, especially when in glorious Colorado.



Wednesday, June 17, 2015

Going Under for the Third Time

by Janis Patterson

Well, I’m not really drowning, but it sort of feels like it, and I don’t think I’m the only one – all of us are feeling overwhelmed these days.

Personally, I’m trying to get out the news about my newly released Janis Susan May traditional Gothic romance CURSE OF THE EXILE, get the final tweaks and polish done on my new website, get over a cold… it goes on and on. And like a shadow over my life there’s always the Convert the Garage project, which has been dragging on for three (three? Good grief…) years.

Not that most of it isn’t good – but like chocolate, you can have too much good – but some of it isn’t. At my age and after the life I’ve led, there are very few times I can say I’ve done something I’ve never done before, but this is one. A week or so ago The Husband surprised (shocked?) me by taking me to the Rolling Stones concert – second row stadium (not floor) seats, directly in front of the stage.

What can I say? It was very interesting. And very loud. There was a huge crowd, probably roughly the same as the population of a European duchy, but aside from the problems inherent in having so many people in a confined space however huge it might be (Dallas AT&T stadium, where the Cowboys play), there were no problems. I didn’t see any fights or arguments or any kind of ugly behavior. Ugly clothes, definitely, but no ugly behavior. Still, I came home feeling almost bruised just from the volume of the music. It took several days for my hearing to return to normal. We got two t-shirts apiece (and what fun I have wearing them around on my definitely grandmotherly self!) but I also brought home a less likeable souvenir – a raging cold. I’m still sniffling and hawking and coughing, though I’m feeling almost well.

What is worse is that just about the time I decided I might live, The Husband started to feel bad and this dratted germ has morphed into that horrid, dreaded thing, the ManCold. I think I’d rather be sick again myself than be a nurse.

And all this happens when I am busier than I have ever been. There’s the release of CURSE OF THE EXILE, of course, and in the last five weeks I have had more blogs – both guest and regular – than I ever have in my life, all of them of course set up months before. Have made them all, I’m proud to say, and after this one is posted I’m free for two weeks.

Free? What am I saying? One of the neatest things of my life is happening. This year the Historical Novel Society is having its annual convention in the US, in Denver specifically, and I have been invited to present a paper on my late friend and her work entitled Egyptology and Elizabeth Peters. This is one of the greatest honors of my life, and I am working very hard to make the presentation worthy of her. It’s wonderful, but it is eating time.

As for writing, what’s that? I’ve had to put back the release of my Janis Patterson mystery MURDER AND MISS WRIGHT which had been scheduled for 1 July. I’ve even had to put my wonderful new half-done Janis Patterson mystery, A KILLING AT EL KAB, the one I went to Egypt to research in March, aside for the moment, and it’s killing me! My characters are banging on the inside of my skull shrieking to be let out, and I just can’t at the moment. I do hope they won’t rebel and go truculently silent when I can get back to writing.


So, forgive me for ending this rather abruptly, but I have to get back to work. I’ll tell you all about the HNS conference next time.

Wednesday, December 17, 2014

It's Christmas. Again.

by Janis Patterson

Remember when we were children and it seemed that geologic ages crept past between one Christmas and the next? Now it seems that the pine needles from one holiday season are barely swept away before another Christmas is barreling toward us.

This year I’m soft-pedaling the holiday. We have no small ones at home (save for the furbabies, who really don’t care) and all our family get-togethers are at other people’s houses this year. Yea! I don’t have to decorate. Or even dust.

It’s not that I don’t have the Christmas spirit – I’m just tired. A publishing blitz of ten books in four and a half months, four new books written, freelancing and regular blogs, plus the normal things like family, friends, the day to day things of laundry and cooking and the rest… it gets exhausting. Add on Christmas shopping and wrapping and parties and it gets even worse. Plus I’m getting older. (I will have to admit that I have reached the cereal years – every time I move it’s snap! crackle! pop!) Somehow putting up wreaths and crèches and garlands and animated lawn ornaments – though they are beautiful – doesn’t really excite me this year.

The Husband asked me what I wanted for Christmas and I didn’t have a clue. I mean, there are the things we can’t do anything about, like world peace and more sales (lots and lots, please!) of my books (Please, Santa – I would like to earn back at least the costs of publishing) and for Microsoft to quit making us change every few months to new programs that are both unnecessary and overly complicated. Then there are the things I really want but we can’t afford, like a new Herman Miller Aeron office chair (which costs about the same amount as my first car) or an office/workroom built above the garage. We already have everything we need, and a lot of things we want, so this year we have agreed that while there will be a few little trinket packages for Christmas morning, our main presents this year will be our trips. We are planning a lot of trips in the new year – the FRW cruise conference in February, perhaps a trip to Egypt in March, a sometime trip to Vegas we won, NINC in October and Denver in June…

Oh, have I told you about that? The Historical Novel Society is a prestigious international association which is holding its conference in the US this year – in Denver in June, to be exact. And…. (drum roll) I have been invited to appear on a panel on “Egyptology and Elizabeth Peters.” You all know what Egyptomanes The Husband and I are, and Barbara (Mertz, aka Barbara Michaels and Elizabeth Peters) was a friend. That invitation is truly a memorable gift.

While I love Christmas presents and parties and decorations, none of those are the true meaning of Christmas. There are those who can talk with much more eloquence than I about love, and faith, and grace, and all the other real things that Christmas means. Beside such cosmic truths poinsettias and reindeer and all the rest fade into insignificance.

So – this year I am going to try to be a better person, and keep the true meaning of Christmas in the forefront of my thoughts. I will be kinder and try to be a truly better person. I will try to treasure the things that really matter – family, friends, love, beauty and all the rest.


In one thing, however, I will remain the rebel – in gleeful defiance of the cleric Abu Musaab Wajdi Akkari (the one who said that wishing someone Merry Christmas is “worse than fornication, and drinking alcohol, and killing someone”) I will proclaim at the top of my voice “Merry Christmas to all!”