As I totally suck at updating this blog, I invite you all to step over to Sandy's Chatterblog, my regular blog, where madness rules in lovely shades of pink.

I  had a lovely smooching party with the Muse this morning (good thing, given the fast approaching deadline!), and once again things didn't quite go according to plan (remember that time when I wrote CASTLE OF THE WOLF, and my heroine suddenly grabbed a knife and held it somebody's throat? Yes, exactly like this not-going-according-to-plan. *ggg*). So this morning I wrote this very romantic scene set outside in the gardens of Rawdon Park (actually, it seems as if half of the book is set in the gardens of Rawdon Park ... *scratching my head*), and quite suddenly my hero started to behave in the most silly fashion. I mean, helloooo, romantic scene, love of your life (well, sort of), would you please take this seriously? No, he wouldn't.

Drat.

But I went along with the flow (always a good thing if you don't want your Muse to leave in a huff) and the result was a somewhat crude joke about Lord Elgin's marbles.

Well, at least I think it is a joke. This is the tricky thing about writing in a second language: making the puns work. Sooo, could anybody tell me if the following joke actually works in English?

His warm breath carressed her ear. "Don't tell me that the same young woman who didn't bat an eye at the sight of Lord Elgin's very nude marbles, now quakes at the thought of showing me her unstockinged foot?" he murmured.

Ineffectively, Amy tried to push him back. "This is different." She gritted her teeth when he wouldn't budge. "Those were statues. This is me!"

He pulled back, his brows knitted in a frown. "Did I just say 'Lord Elgin's nude marbles'?" His lips twitched, then he threw his head back and roared with laughter.

Amy dropped her forehead into her palm.

My greedy, little researcher's heart is currently yearning for a 19th-century book on garden management. There are basically two different versions available from abebooks: a facsimile from the 1980s or the real, 19th-century thing from either 1872 or 1890. And herein lies the dilemma: should I take the (cheaper, can-mark-with-pen-and-post-its) facsimile or the (real, but relatively expensive) original edition?

The facsimile would be the sensible solution, of course.

But -- ooooooooh -- imagine: getting your hands on an original edition! *sigh*

It's carnival in Germany, and today, on Rosemontag, we've got the big carnival parades in Mainz, Düsseldorf and Cologne. I've posted a few snapshots of the Mainzer parade on my regular blog.

Come over & enjoy!

On some days, each word becomes an effort, and to write three sentences takes half an hour. Today was one of these days: I just stared dully at my AlphaSmart-mini-monitor-thingie and it stared dully back. *sigh*

Horrible Histories of Mayence Episode of the Day:

He read how the seven knights killed the seven dastardly giants, how valiant Catrina, formerly known as Kassian, rode to a necromancer's castle to save the Maid Gellna from a horrible fate.

The valiant knightess, when her enemy came unto her, struck him so terrible a blow upon the visor of his helmet, that with the fury thereof she made sparkles of fire to issue out with great abundance, and forced him to bow his head unto his breast. The necromancer returned her his salutation, and struck her such a blow upon the helmet that --

"Sebastian?"

Fox looked up.

His brother stood in the door.

I'm currently killing a plant. Or rather, I let my characters kill a plant. An eeeeeevuhl plant. But the big question is: should they use a magical sword? Or should they use a simple spade?

It's rather frustrating.

Oooh, but ...

THEY COULD USE A WEED KILLER!!!!

Okay, okay, so this is 1820 and if I'm not mistaken, effective weed killers didn't yet exist. Crap. So it's back to the sword.

Today was my last day of teaching for this semester (yes!) and in order to celebrate I indulged in a book-shopping spree. The results can be admired here. For some reason or other, amazon doesn't have a cover image for the book on Astrid Lindgren yet -- which is a most beautiful book indeed! It's filled with loads of pictures and anecdotes from Lindgren's life.

Astrid Lindgren was wonderful writer; "Ronia, the Robber's Daughter" and "The Brothers Lionheart" are among all-time favourite books.

Today I put the finishing touches to an article about the Black Forest and went through our old family pics (as you might know, I spent my early childhood years in the Black Forest). I've posted some of the pictures which won't be used for the article on my regular blog: here - I hope you'll like them!

And now ...

... good night!

Here it is, the trailer for CASTLE OF THE WOLF. What do you think of it?

CASTLE OF THE WOLF by Sandra Schwab



Add to My Profile | More Videos

What happens if you cross a scholar for popular literature with an author of popular fiction? MADNESS!

I'm currently having a lot of fun writing a fictional book into my WIP, BEWITCHED, a Regency-set romance with fantastic elements. (You might call them paranormal elements, but actually I think they're more fantasy than paranormal.) Said fictional book is a fictional chapbook, i.e. one of the massmarket paperbacks of the time. Those books were very small and very cheap (books of Milner & Company's "Cottage Library" series, for example, cost only 1 shilling) and were very popular among schoolboys.

My chapbook is titled THE HORRIBLE HISTORIES OF THE RHINE:

Fox turned the book between his hands. Dark, red leather, soft and smooth like silk. The flash of gilt letters and ornaments. He rubbed his thumb over the inscription on the spine - Histories of the Rhine.

He flicked the book open. The frontispiece showed a strapping young man in the shabby, dark clothes of a poor scholar, a fat book raised high over his head. In front of him crouched what looked like a cross between Cerberus and a black sheep. "Worthy Markander and the three-headed monster poodle," the inscription read. And on the title page,

 Now, you might know that I work in Mainz/Mayence ...