am I the only little girl that never played Princess? Feeling so, reading Susan's crit.

I used to play Princess Leia.

Which may actually explain why I find the lady-commoner pairing so sexay, come to think of it...

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Allyson, the bio is wonderful.

But a lot of the appeal of the Regency for many readers is the whole lords and ladies fantasy

For what it's worth, I bought a bunch of non-noble books when I was editing the traditionals. And a couple really odd ones -- a few set in Scotland, even. That said, though, someone in the book was usually noble, even if it wasn't the hero, so there was usually a reference to a house party in the country, or ton parties in town.

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That said, though, someone in the book was usually noble, even if it wasn't the hero, so there was usually a reference to a house party in the country, or ton parties in town.

Well, Anna is the daughter of a viscount and the granddaughter of an earl, and Portia is an ex-marchioness, so I think they've got the blue-blood side covered. Of course, both are more war stories than ton stories, but surely I'm not the only one who likes that. And of course I know I'm not--there are others on the list who are talking about their favorite common heroes, unusual settings, and the like. It's just that the ones who say they wouldn't want to read about a non-noble hero, where's the escapism in that, etc. that stick in my mind, because it's easy to read it as, "Susan, why are you writing that? It's a stupid idea, it's not romantic, and I sure don't want to read it."

Which I know just means not everyone is going to love what I do. DUH! And really, I'm cool with it. No major angst going on, just venting here a little to help me keep my mouth shut there. (But dammit, Jack could so kick their favorite heroes' ducal arses.)

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I'm wondering if the Lord with Commoner isn't just an unadmitted version of what Nic christened the "Guido complex" - basically, a nice intelligent refined woman who once, just once, would like a hot night of monkey fucking, saddling up a construction worker with bulging pecs, hung like a stallion, and without two thoughts to rub together to make fire with. You know? Screw the intellectual chatter and the refinement: one night with a guy named Guido.

I laughed until I pulled something, when he explained the concept. But the more I think of it, the more likely it seems. Ooooh, Dame Griselda, oldest daughter of Sir Putney-Yutz of stately Washbasin on the Drainboard, married to the inbred nobleman, and gets to spend six hours with the ploughman, up in the hayloft of one her father's amusing little manor farms....

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In general, maybe, but not really the version I'm writing--Jack just doesn't fit the Guido complex mold at all. I don't think I could write a hero who didn't have an obviously spicy brain if a six-figure advance depended upon it.

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(Of course, maybe in my case the appeal is being able to have my cake and eat it too--get the super-brainy man and the ruggedly sexy blue collar guy in the same package. And that's something that really works best in historicals. A guy like Jack nowadays would have no trouble getting a good education and becoming almost anything he wanted, and there's nothing especially exciting about being an educated white collar professional from a relatively humble background. If I want to see that, I can just go look in a mirror.)

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I've met them in rl. But they didn't think of me "that way" either. I have sort of a cross of the power/ Guido when I think dirty things about Tony Soprano.

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IRL, I would probably shy away from the nobles for any number of reasons.

Yeah, like the clap.

In general, maybe, but not really the version I'm writing--Jack just doesn't fit the Guido complex mold at all.

No. He's the smart Mick on the make, in a 30s/40s movie, who the debutante falls head over heels for. An equally, albeit differently sexy equiv. to the Guido.

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Ooh, It Happened One Night Very hot. Even if now I like my heroes to be beat-up and self-destructive. Jam Clark's fingers in a roadster door and I'm still on board!

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Exactly. I don't know if it's statistic or urban legend, but supposedly, the sale of men's undershirts plummeted after that film was released, and Gable wasn't wearing one, when he took off his shirt.

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