Where's the Love? Blog Hop

Love is in the air--and on the pages. Heather Webb of Between the Sheets is hosting a Valentine's Day blog hop. Follow the trail and read love scenes from participants' novels. Here's a contribution from my work-in-progress:

photo: Joseph Kranak

They walked a bit in silence, the unlit windows of the near-empty château withholding both succor and judgment. Their footsteps echoed on the cobbles, rousting pigeons from the eaves and sending mice scurrying to the safety of shadows. Far off, an owl hooted, hungered by the croaking of the pond’s countless frogs. The sweetness of the honeyed wine lingered on Catherine’s tongue, stilling each feeble tremor of caution. When the duke changed direction and led her into the cour de la fontaine, she did not resist.

They stood at the railing and gazed out upon the lake. The moonlight lay like early frost upon the rippled surface. The reedy bank below them exhaled a rich breath of damp earth, while above them the stars winked in complicity.

“A gift from heaven,” Orléans murmured. 

The view, the moment, the day? “Indeed it is, my lord.”

He cocked a brow. “I don’t supposed you’d call me Charles?”

She shook her head. “I dare not presume.” 

Disappointment flashed in his eyes, only to be doused by her murmured disclaimer. “Not aloud, that is.”

He tipped her chin, raising her gaze to meet his. “Then I shall have to imagine the whisperings of your heart.”

"They cannot be difficult to discern.”

He bent then and kissed her, his breath sweeter than the sugared plums, his lips softer than the velvet sleeve beneath her hand. Though they were of one age, she knew nothing of love. Breathless with delight, she closed her eyes and surrendered to the wonder of his exploration.

**********

Comments and critique welcome. In fact, commenters will be entered into Heather's drawing for FREE CHOCOLATE! Be sure to visit Heather's blog and follow the links to other scenes. Spread the love!

Happy Valentine's Day!

Lucky Seven

I've been tagged by Janet B. Taylor and Candie Leigh for the "Lucky Seven" meme. Here are lines 7-15 from page 77 of my current manuscript:

Not knowing where to look first, Catherine wandered a bit, pausing to examine the sculpted marble faun on its half-pedestal, the majolica platters and enameled cups on the buffet. When she finally reached the canvas fixed to the wall between the two windows, she fingered the velvet drape as though reluctant to cut short the pleasure of anticipation. The gasp that escaped her as the drape fell away told Anne all she needed to know.

“Leda and the Swan. Michel-Ange. It’s true.” Catherine reached up to trace the curve of Leda’s back, pressed against the scarlet cushions by the weight of the swan in her lap. The girl's cheeks flamed at the undisguised portrayal of the pair’s copulation, but she did not look away.


Anyone else want to play? Leave a comment with a link. Let's see some lines from from your fabulous WIPs!

Milestone

Woo hoo, just hit 100 pages on the WIP! There's no turning back now. Forward, march! :)

A Friday Snippet

I've been busy writing, so instead of a history post I'm going to share a snippet of my WIP. This is the opening of the fourth chapter; the characters are King François and his official mistress, the powerful Anne d'Heilly, Madame d'Etampes. Charles V is the Emperor; the Dauphin is the king's older son Henri; Orléans is François's third son, another Charles. Montmorency is the Grand Constable of France, one the king's chief advisors. 

**********

Copyright 2009 by Julianne Douglas. All rights reserved.

François paced the length of her chamber like a caged lynx, their hurried coupling already forgotten. “You will not dissuade me, Annette. Despite our victories in the field, Milan yet proves elusive. Perhaps, as the connétable suggests, peace and friendship will garner what war has failed to win.”

He stopped before her and extended a hand. Anne worked the leather glove, stiff with embroidery, over his fingers and palm. His skin hardly quivered when she kissed the underside of his wrist.

“I have taken the first step. Today I granted Montmorency permission to approach the Spanish ambassador on the subject of a match between the Emperor and young Marguerite.” She felt his eyes on her face, watching for her response to this unforseen bit of news.

She managed to preserve her smile, though inwardly she cursed his impatience. “So soon?” She released his hand and reached for the other. “Queen Isabel died hardly two weeks ago, and by all accounts the Emperor loved her dearly. Might not this proposal signal an unfortunate disregard for his sentiments? You, of all people, should be mindful of that.”

François snatched his hand away, annoyed rather than dissuaded by this mention of his first wife's passing. He flexed the glove into place. “You find fault with the proposal? Charles is a king, and kings are able to separate matters of state from personal sentiment.”

"Are they?" she wanted to ask, but instead bent to retrieve the fur-bordered cape puddled on the floor. “It is not your proposal I question so much as the source from which it comes. No one but Montmorency himself would envisage such a scheme.”

François threw back his shoulders. “The connétable judges Charles’s overtures sincere and urges me to respond in kind. What better way to cement the peace than through a joining of our houses?”

Anne shook the cape out with snap. “Charles has already promised his own daughter to Orléans, with Milan as dowry.” The king stooped so she could swing the garment about his shoulders. “Marrying Marguerite would provide him the perfect pretext for releasing the infanta from this pledge. Milan would remain in imperial hands forever.”

François’s eyes narrowed as he considered this fearsome prospect. Encouraged, she cradled his face in her hands and drew his head down until their foreheads met. “Surely you understand what prompts Montmorency’s suggestion.”

“Suggestion?” François repeated, his hands seeking her waist.

She twisted out of his grasp, determined not to distract him. “Montmorency wants nothing more than to cheat Orléans out of the prestige and power of an imperial marriage. He won’t hesitate to quash Orléans’s prospects in order to further the Dauphin’s. And his own.”

François’s face clouded as he contemplated this slight to his favorite son. “Young Charles, ruling Milan with the blessing of the Emperor, does pose a serious threat to Henri’s eastern flank,” he admitted.

“Exactly. Montmorency is no fool. Knowing how your nobles favor Orléans over the Dauphin, he is loath to place young Charles in a position where he could easily be led astray.”

François laughed, a clear and hearty peal. “God’s blood, Annette, without a doubt your fancy runs wilder than Montmorency’s. The connétable but seeks to take advantage of the Emperor’s empty bed, not forestall a rebellion! Easier to snare the Hapsburg fox with a morsel like Marguerite than negotiate endlessly over the price of the infanta.” He reached out and pulled Anne close, nuzzling her neck. “You may be sure I’ll keep you close at hand when the Emperor draws nigh.”

She pushed away from his chest, certain she had misheard. “The Emperor comes to France?”

*********

There's a lot of history and politics in this scene--I'd love to hear your thoughts on how I handled it. Too much information, too clumsily presented? This is only a draft, so I'd really appreciate feedback. 

A NaNo Snippet

I can't resist. I'm so excited about the new novel I thought I'd share a snippet with you. Remember, it's an early draft, so don't judge too harshly. I hope you enjoy it.

I scrape away the globs of white with the palette knife and swirl a touch of blue onto my brush. Jamet will never equal Father in skill, of that I am certain. Whereas if Father would only give me a chance…

I should be thankful to be at court painting feathers and bows instead of scraping carrots in my mother’s kitchen, yet each day spent at Fontainebleau tries me past endurance. An army of artists slaves to transform this hunting lodge into the showcase of Europe, and all I can do is watch. Rasping saws and clanging chisels taunt me as I sit at Father’s desk, tallying accounts; whiffs of wet varnish, undercutting the reek of courtiers’ perfumes, entice as I arrange the fall of sitters’ skirts. Marble gods beckon for caresses as I cross the palace gardens toting Father’s paintbox; tumbling putti wave as I pass beneath cloud-swathed vaults with pails of water to launder chalk dust from Jamet’s sleeves. Knowing I’ll never plaster the garlanded frescoes or tint the stuccoed fauns eats at me like acid on an engraver’s plate. I shan’t even gild the “F’s” that monogram the paneled walls of the king’s grande galerie.

“Is it ready?” Jamet fills the doorway, blocking the light that streams in from the courtyard.

Finishing the last of the pearls, I don’t look up. “Father says she doesn’t expect it until next week.”

“Not the portrait. My bag.” I hear him grunt as he spies his leather satchel on the bench beneath the window. “I do hope you packed new chalk. That last batch of black splintered under the slightest pressure.” He clucks his tongue as though I fired the faulty charcoal myself, just to vex him.

Sibling rivalry takes on an entirely different dynamic when women's roles are severely circumscribed ...

All Aboard!

So I've jumped on the NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) bandwagon. I thought it would be a great way to forge ahead on Fontainbleau. I doubt I'll hit 50,000 words by the end of November, but I'd be more than happy to reach 30,000. 1000 words a day--4 typed pages. It's more than I'm used to writing (slow writer that I am), but if I push myself I should be able to do it.

Anyone else participating? I'm julianned on the NaNo website, if you'd like to friend me. We also have a thread running on Historical Fiction Online.

Happy writing! If you're watching from the sidelines, keep an eye on my FB wordcount over in the sidebar and prod me if I start falling too far behind, okay?

Ready, Set, GO!

I did it! Tonight I began writing my second novel. I've been mired in research for months, but hadn't yet written a word. I finally decided to take the plunge, and now I'm happy to say the first 324 words--more than a page!--of the novel whose working title is Fontainebleau (FB for short) actually exist. Can you tell I'm excited? Now if I could only figure out how to install one of those nifty progress bars...anyone have a suggestion where to find one?

Unknown No Longer

Meet Catherine ("kah-TRINE," in French), the main character of Book 2. I've adopted this portrait of an "unknown woman," sketched by court portraitist Jean Clouet (c.1485-1540), as her snapshot. I'm preparing posts on Clouet and his artist son François (c.1515-1572). These amazing artists, through several hundred chalk sketches and dozens of painted portraits, captured for posterity the nobles of the courts of four French kings. In the meantime, let me know what you think of Catherine. What does this portrait say to you of her character?

(The portrait comes from a book by Louis Dimier, Histoire de la peinture de portrait en France au XVIe siècle (Paris 1924), courtesy of my daughter, who taught me how to use the nifty scanner!)

Bingo

All the book research has paid off. This weekend I identified the main character for Book 2. I wanted her to be the daughter or niece of an artist who worked for the French court; I was thinking I would have to invent such a person to encompass all the aspects I needed for the plot. Then Sunday I found reference to a prominent artist's daughter; her dates work perfectly for what I need. Even better, her brother is an artist, so I have the rivalry element I was looking for. The best is that little is known about her (as is true about most women of the time), so my imagination can have free reign (within the bounds of probability; I've blogged before about my ethical hesitations in fictionalizing persons from history). There's even a coincidence of names; her true name is one of the ones I was considering for a fictional character. It's all too good to be true...serendipity at its best.

So now I'm all set. Let the writing begin....

Writing a New Book

With my first book out of my hands for the time being, I've been pouring all my energies into creating Book 2. It will be interesting to see if my writing process differs this time. The Measure of Silence was written over more than a few years, in moments stolen here and there between writing and defending a dissertation and raising three children. I don't have the luxury of unlimited time for Book 2; once TMOS sells, I'll only have about a year, at most two, to submit my next manuscript.

I'm the type of writer who needs to know where I'm going before I begin. I work backwards, not in terms of the actual writing, but while plotting. I decide on the end and figure out how to get there in a given number of chapters. Although I don't write a formal outline, I do write brief chapter summaries, deciding in advance what has to happen in each chapter in order to reach the dénouement I foresee. These summaries help me keep track of the various plot lines and regulate the pacing of the book.

I'm sure "pantsters"--writers who write without a pre-conceived plan, who follow the lead of their characters and "make it up as they go along"--cringe when they read that. "Where's the creativity? What fun is it to write a chapter if you already know what happens in it?" But that's exactly where the fun does lie--in figuring out how to fit the pieces together in order to achieve the desired result. Although I know what needs to happen in a given chapter, I don't necessarily know how it happens as I set out to write it. I'm usually surprised at what characters will say or do or how details dovetail. And of course, I consider these summaries very fluid--if I stumble across a good idea while writing one chapter, I modify and change the subsequent summaries to accommodate it.

Plotting my second book is proving to be a bit more challenging than it was for the first. This time, I am building a story around actual historical events; I am trying to tie the individual story arcs of the main characters to the broader stage of the emerging nation. I'm not quite there yet, but I'm close. I'm excited to be working with this new cast of characters and intrigued by the nuggets of story they've presented. For now I'm still trying to fit the givens together; soon I'll be busy fleshing out the details and watching the novel grow chapter by chapter.