DH is upstairs flinging Christmas presents into boxes for shipping. Since I packed most of my stuff and Annabel's last night, I get to put on virtuous airs and come down and play with the computer. Actual conversation following from my smug superiority about my already-packed state:

DH: You just don't love the husband anymore. You want to leave me for Sean Bean.
Me: No, I don't. I want to leave you for someone who looks like Sean Bean, but is unfailingly punctual, well-organized, completely loyal to one lover for life, loves to clean the house....
DH: So you're saying you want to have sex with yourself, then?
Me: (beat) Yes. But in Sean Bean's body.

And connie, while we may not be the average reader, anything that Susan or anyone else tries to sell has presumably got to get past an agent, and then an editor.

Deb, believe me when I say I'm already ahead of at least 50% of what's currently being published in historical romance when it comes to accuracy, both in my characters' mindsets and in details of fact. So clearly there are editors and agents out there who aren't too picky about these things. Which all feeds into my rant about the current state of historical romance, but that's probably not the right topic for me to go off on when I'm in a hurry. Suffice it to say there's a lot of stuff out there calling itself historical that's really set in a sort of badly imagined Disney Regency, Victorian, or medieval era.

Shoot. I meant to try out the subscribe button but forget and went to Set Profile. Dagnabbit.

ION, I seem to have developed a talent for buying clothes that clash with the clothes I already own. Today I am wearing my new pink jeans from Target, and they are a much oranger pink than the pink pumps and pink stripey shirt that I am wearing with them. About a month ago it was my new grey heather sweatpants and my old grey heather sweatshirt that I discovered (after I'd been wearing them all day thinking I was co-ordinated) were different grays. Sigh.

Well, at least my diamond shoes fit okay. They just clash with my diamond belt.

No doubt. Cause you know, those people couldn't take *showers*. Well, Susan, all best luck, and spare me a thought when you're all done and I'm wading through my crime scene.

Where is this subscribe button?

It's not what the market is looking for, and not what's selling. Susan and Connie are absolutely correct on that score, and what it sounds like Susan's attempting is a delicate balance between what the general 21st century general reader expects/wants/desires and what the traditional Regency lover has been missing since the bottom fell out of the traditional Regency market in the mid-90s.

Exactly. Because I need the former to sell, and the latter to make myself happy. My goal is to make the whole thing so damn romantic and tightly plotted and poignant that no one even notices it's not set in the Disney Regency Theme Park until it's too late.

Skipped to the end for under fifty?

It's not what the market is looking for, and not what's selling.

Nodding.

I'm already ahead of at least 50% of what's currently being published in historical romance when it comes to accuracy

More nodding.

Timelies! Took the 13-year-old to NYC yesterday for a mom/son day, and Cartier was decorated with a ginormous tiara over the door. Wanted to take a picture to share, but hadn't brought the camera. It was lovely, though, and very very sparkly.

Agreeing madly with what Deb said about NYC, though, and I love the city. Used to live there, used to work there, miss it a lot of the time, but the week after Christmas, when walking down Fifth Avenue means actually fighting your way, elbowing and grunting, through people who like to stop dead to look up at the buildings...not so much.

Got lovely and unexpected cards from Sail and Bev, which were much appreciated. Love love love Sail's idea of embellishing (and secretly thinking of doing same next year).

Worried about P-C, just because of the proximity, and so sorry about billytea's mom. Much more catching up to do, since the holidays ate me from the bottom up for awhile, and I'm still tripping over stray packaging and wrapping paper and cookie crumbs.

My goal is to make the whole thing so damn romantic and tightly plotted and poignant that no one even notices it's not set in the Disney Regency Theme Park until it's too late.

Do you read Susan Wiggs? She's not Regency (American Victorian when she's not doing stuff set in modern times), but I think she's managed to strike that balance fairly well (because American Victorian has its own theme park), and is one of the few writers of the last decade (as opposed to those who were writing Back in the Day) to do so.

there's a lot of stuff out there calling itself historical that's really set in a sort of badly imagined Disney Regency, Victorian, or medieval era.

I dimly recall (it's been ~20 years or so) reading a historical novel set in 1067, with a Norman knight and a Saxon lady. She was named Rosemonde, or something equally French-sounding. I would have been happier if she'd been named Bertha or Dagmar. Heck, even Isabelle has its Germanic variants.

Decent sex scenes, though.

Deb, the subscribe button is just under the thread title, next to threadsuck.

Well, Susan, all best luck, and spare me a thought when you're all done and I'm wading through my crime scene.

All done never happens, but I'm definitely rooting for you.