Warning: I don't edit blogs. As I think them, you get them.
Proceed at your own risk.
I love books. I love reading them. I love writing them. I love owning them. I love holding them in my hot little hands and anticipating where we will travel together.
To me, books are treasures.
I love words. Large, small, strong, gentle, meaningful, vague, it doesn't matter. The power of words, whether written or spoken, holds endless fascination.
Words are tools, and like all tools, serve their purpose best when used properly. No one uses a hammer to drive in a screw--unless they don't mind the curtains falling because the wallboard or plaster crumbled.
As I've perused various blogs, I realized most had a theme of some sort, something that drew people to them. Mine tends to be comprised of random bits of thought (I don't know that I've had a WHOLE thought in quite some time) rattling around looking for a place to light so the posts are, at best, disjointed and sporadic.
That's going to change.
Romancing History will do exactly as its name implies; it will provide information on books and words with historical significance.
Yes, historical novels will be mentioned here as will research materials dealing with various eras. There is such a wealth of information available these days, and many people are more than happy to bookmark 999 web pages, but some are like me and prefer a book they can mark (I use colored post-its--a different color for each work or, sometimes, character--with a word or two on them to tell me what's relevant on that page rather than mark in the books themselves) and have in hand when the need arises.
Etymology will also play a part, as will whatever I can find about strong verbs and other word choice topics. Why? Because in my WIP, I used a word in dialogue I felt certain fit my time period. However, being an anal sort, out came the etymology dictionary. It seems both my hero and heroine would have been dead for more than two centuries ere this "perfect" word hit the lexicon. (In case you're curious, the word in question is naysayer.)
Another word that I thought too modern wasn't (can't recall right off which word. Sorry.) and in yet another instance the word actually changed its meaning over time. So, while the word was in use, it didn't mean then what it does now. A modern reader would understand, true, and had the word been used in narrative, it might have stayed, but not in dialogue. Readers aren't dumb; someone would have called me on it.
My hope is to make Romancing History a viable tool for other writers so, when the reader closes the curtain on any historical work, the hardware holds, the walls stay solid, and everyone has a satisfying experience.
Assume nothing. Check everything.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Getting the Call
Today I got the Call.
No, not The Call, but the Call telling me my manuscript had made the finals for RWA's Golden Heart.
With my plate a bit full, working on my story is relegated to the wee hours of the night, so--since I tend to lose track of time when with my characters--the clock said 6:50 a.m. before I hit the rack. When the phone rang a bit after 8, my first thought was "Let the machine get it." My second? "Oh no, today's the day!"
I've been awake ever since.
Truth be told, I didn't expect getting the Call to be quite as exciting the second time, but . . . Okay, I admit it; I shrieked like a banshee on drugs. Amazing what a little vindication can do.
Watching while finalist's names were posted to a fellow writer's blog made the excitement linger, each new revelation like opening a Christmas gift or Birthday present.
You see, telling friends and family who aren't romance writers and have no idea what being a GH finalist means tends to leave you flat. You have to explain. It's rather like one of the Manning brothers saying, "Yeah, I won the Super Bowl" (okay, so only to a wannabe does this equation work, but you get the drift) only to be asked, "What's a Super Bowl?" But tell another romance writer and squeals and shrieks and happy dancing abound. Writers tend to work alone, for the most part, so the chance to share with others who understand makes any accomplishment that much more amazing.
So here's to all the writers, whatever their genre, stranded in worlds far removed from the real world, hearing voices only they can hear, telling tales as only they, individually, can. The writing community is a wonderful, supportive place filled with people as unique and individual as the stories they tell.
Thus, I offer a heartfelt "Congratulations!" to all the Golden Heart finalists driving hard to find the elusive onramp leading to highway of success and to the RITA finalists who are already on the road--and some who have paved the road--to their dreams. What an awesome bunch you are. Thank you for letting me share the ride.
No, not The Call, but the Call telling me my manuscript had made the finals for RWA's Golden Heart.
With my plate a bit full, working on my story is relegated to the wee hours of the night, so--since I tend to lose track of time when with my characters--the clock said 6:50 a.m. before I hit the rack. When the phone rang a bit after 8, my first thought was "Let the machine get it." My second? "Oh no, today's the day!"
I've been awake ever since.
Truth be told, I didn't expect getting the Call to be quite as exciting the second time, but . . . Okay, I admit it; I shrieked like a banshee on drugs. Amazing what a little vindication can do.
Watching while finalist's names were posted to a fellow writer's blog made the excitement linger, each new revelation like opening a Christmas gift or Birthday present.
You see, telling friends and family who aren't romance writers and have no idea what being a GH finalist means tends to leave you flat. You have to explain. It's rather like one of the Manning brothers saying, "Yeah, I won the Super Bowl" (okay, so only to a wannabe does this equation work, but you get the drift) only to be asked, "What's a Super Bowl?" But tell another romance writer and squeals and shrieks and happy dancing abound. Writers tend to work alone, for the most part, so the chance to share with others who understand makes any accomplishment that much more amazing.
So here's to all the writers, whatever their genre, stranded in worlds far removed from the real world, hearing voices only they can hear, telling tales as only they, individually, can. The writing community is a wonderful, supportive place filled with people as unique and individual as the stories they tell.
Thus, I offer a heartfelt "Congratulations!" to all the Golden Heart finalists driving hard to find the elusive onramp leading to highway of success and to the RITA finalists who are already on the road--and some who have paved the road--to their dreams. What an awesome bunch you are. Thank you for letting me share the ride.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Wishing you a Magical Christmas
Christmas means different things to different people. Traditions abound. Family traditions are as different as the families who have them.
I'd like to share one of ours. We call it The Cookie Tree.
Each Christmas, my mom's dad and brothers would go get a tree. They unfailingly got one too large for the house. Gram, a firm believer that waste was a sin, would roll her eyes, heave a huge sigh, cut off the top (giving the tree a "flat top" long before the hairstyle became popular), and set it in a bucket of sand. When we visited a Christmas, that tree top would be decorated with cookies and candy canes and other edible goodies just for the grandchildren.
One year, Gramps and the uncles got it right. There was no Cookie Tree, just lots of disappointed kids.
It never happened again.
When I married, we lived far from the Grands, so I bought a wee artifical "Cookie Tree" for my children. We'd bake cookies, using a straw to make the holes for ribbons to hang them. Stringing popcorn became a contest to have the fewest holes in their fingers. Finding ways to hang "good for them" things became a game. (Fruit Loops on clear fishing line make a festive garland.)
The children would, of course, be up with the birds, but they weren't allowed to touch anything until we joined them, so, of course, they woke us---but not until after they raided the Cookie Tree.
That tree allowed my sweetheart and me to catch a few extra winks on Christmas morning.
Life took a turn, and that little tree--and most of what we owned--ended up in storage for a while. The children were teens the first Christmas in our new home, yet the very first thing they pulled down was that scraggly tree.
My son married. A must have purchase? A Cookie Tree.
And so a tradition continues.
Traditions should create wonderful memories. I know ours do (and the Cookie Tree is just one of many.)
Please feel free to share your traditions here. Who knows? It may become a tradition elsewhere and you will have given a gift of smiles.
Wishing you and yours a Blessed and Joyful Christmas.
I'd like to share one of ours. We call it The Cookie Tree.
Each Christmas, my mom's dad and brothers would go get a tree. They unfailingly got one too large for the house. Gram, a firm believer that waste was a sin, would roll her eyes, heave a huge sigh, cut off the top (giving the tree a "flat top" long before the hairstyle became popular), and set it in a bucket of sand. When we visited a Christmas, that tree top would be decorated with cookies and candy canes and other edible goodies just for the grandchildren.
One year, Gramps and the uncles got it right. There was no Cookie Tree, just lots of disappointed kids.
It never happened again.
When I married, we lived far from the Grands, so I bought a wee artifical "Cookie Tree" for my children. We'd bake cookies, using a straw to make the holes for ribbons to hang them. Stringing popcorn became a contest to have the fewest holes in their fingers. Finding ways to hang "good for them" things became a game. (Fruit Loops on clear fishing line make a festive garland.)
The children would, of course, be up with the birds, but they weren't allowed to touch anything until we joined them, so, of course, they woke us---but not until after they raided the Cookie Tree.
That tree allowed my sweetheart and me to catch a few extra winks on Christmas morning.
Life took a turn, and that little tree--and most of what we owned--ended up in storage for a while. The children were teens the first Christmas in our new home, yet the very first thing they pulled down was that scraggly tree.
My son married. A must have purchase? A Cookie Tree.
And so a tradition continues.
Traditions should create wonderful memories. I know ours do (and the Cookie Tree is just one of many.)
Please feel free to share your traditions here. Who knows? It may become a tradition elsewhere and you will have given a gift of smiles.
Wishing you and yours a Blessed and Joyful Christmas.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
VOTE
History will be made this day. Regardless of your political affiliation, the choice made will have far reaching effects.
As an American citizen, it is your RESPONSIBILITY to vote. Don't hide behind the weak excuses that plague every election: It's not chosing the best candidate---it's chosing the lesser of two evils. My vote doesn't count anyway, why bother? It's cold. There are lines. The list goes on and on--and not one of those excuses is worth the breath it takes to utter it.
Our founding father's declared us a nation "by the people, for the people", but the people have become lazy, taking the rights and privileges of our citizenship for granted. Life gets in the way. That's understandable. Our economic climate has our minds reeling with fears and uncertainties, and in our fast food world, we all want a quick fix. Well, I fear this mess, over a decade in the making, will require more than a bit of Neosporin and a Band Aid. It will require staunch and steadfast government, the responsibility for which falls to you and me under the very constitution that granted us the freedoms we hold so dear.
So quit surfing the internet and reading blogs. Go Vote! It's time to stop reading history and make a little.
As an American citizen, it is your RESPONSIBILITY to vote. Don't hide behind the weak excuses that plague every election: It's not chosing the best candidate---it's chosing the lesser of two evils. My vote doesn't count anyway, why bother? It's cold. There are lines. The list goes on and on--and not one of those excuses is worth the breath it takes to utter it.
Our founding father's declared us a nation "by the people, for the people", but the people have become lazy, taking the rights and privileges of our citizenship for granted. Life gets in the way. That's understandable. Our economic climate has our minds reeling with fears and uncertainties, and in our fast food world, we all want a quick fix. Well, I fear this mess, over a decade in the making, will require more than a bit of Neosporin and a Band Aid. It will require staunch and steadfast government, the responsibility for which falls to you and me under the very constitution that granted us the freedoms we hold so dear.
So quit surfing the internet and reading blogs. Go Vote! It's time to stop reading history and make a little.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Looking beyond History
How easy is it to make history? Very.
When I started this blog, I promised myself I would post weekly. As you can tell from the posting dates, that didn't happen, so my promise is history.
Anything that is in the past can be qualified as history. It doesn't have to be earth-shattering. It just has to have been.
Historical, on the other hand, requires more impact. Let's face it, no one cares if my wee promise is history UNLESS the impact in some way, shape, or form changes the future, whether that change is global, continental, national, or personal (Think Mary Todd Lincoln's mental instability vs. Abraham Lincoln's assassination.)
Our historical records tend to focus on life or world changing events. Everyone has heard of Waterloo--even if its ABBA's version--and understands the decisiveness of that battle. But how many know of the smaller skirmishes that laid the foundation for Britain's victory? Waterloo didn't stand alone, but iced a cake assembled ingredient by ingredient. It is the quality of the ingredients, or the lack thereof, that determines success or failure.
These small bits, the ingredients, are the recipe for historical writing success. These are the things that can set your book apart. Instead of another rehash of what has been done before, there is freshness, a new flavor.
The major battles, controversies, famines, political upheavals, felons, inventions, philosophies, etc. of any era are well documented. The things building them, swirling within them, and resulting from them are less so, yet they are pivotal because, without them, the greater event would never have happened.
While war scenerios are the best documented so are easiest (there are myriad books available dissecting the battles and strategies), they are not all.
A small farming village in a bucolic countryside finds itself host to a nest of radicals. This cannot help but color the lives of the villagers. Some will agree with the politics. Others will not. Some will go blithely through their days ignorant of the political bomb ticking beneath their feet. Others will simply ignore it, hoping it will go away before it explodes. This is true regardless of era, and it is how the people react to the circumstance that makes a good story.
To put it in a nutshell, look past the obvious. As you search, you will have a "Eureka!" moment (sans running down the street naked, one would hope), finding something that, while small within the context of time, meant success or failure in that moment. Things that happen everyday will suddenly become important: a dog bite that sidelined a messenger with vital information. A thrown horseshoe that put someone in the right or wrong place at the right or wrong time. A flippant comment that fanned the flames of revolution (Let them eat cake, anyone?)
Open your eyes to what lies beyond the big picture. See the vignettes. Remember, people make history. (Yes, it's been said before, and it will be said again.) Their pictures may be small and blurry, lost against a sweeping backdrop of epic proportion, but they are there. And they have stories to tell.
It's up to you to tell them.
When I started this blog, I promised myself I would post weekly. As you can tell from the posting dates, that didn't happen, so my promise is history.
Anything that is in the past can be qualified as history. It doesn't have to be earth-shattering. It just has to have been.
Historical, on the other hand, requires more impact. Let's face it, no one cares if my wee promise is history UNLESS the impact in some way, shape, or form changes the future, whether that change is global, continental, national, or personal (Think Mary Todd Lincoln's mental instability vs. Abraham Lincoln's assassination.)
Our historical records tend to focus on life or world changing events. Everyone has heard of Waterloo--even if its ABBA's version--and understands the decisiveness of that battle. But how many know of the smaller skirmishes that laid the foundation for Britain's victory? Waterloo didn't stand alone, but iced a cake assembled ingredient by ingredient. It is the quality of the ingredients, or the lack thereof, that determines success or failure.
These small bits, the ingredients, are the recipe for historical writing success. These are the things that can set your book apart. Instead of another rehash of what has been done before, there is freshness, a new flavor.
The major battles, controversies, famines, political upheavals, felons, inventions, philosophies, etc. of any era are well documented. The things building them, swirling within them, and resulting from them are less so, yet they are pivotal because, without them, the greater event would never have happened.
While war scenerios are the best documented so are easiest (there are myriad books available dissecting the battles and strategies), they are not all.
A small farming village in a bucolic countryside finds itself host to a nest of radicals. This cannot help but color the lives of the villagers. Some will agree with the politics. Others will not. Some will go blithely through their days ignorant of the political bomb ticking beneath their feet. Others will simply ignore it, hoping it will go away before it explodes. This is true regardless of era, and it is how the people react to the circumstance that makes a good story.
To put it in a nutshell, look past the obvious. As you search, you will have a "Eureka!" moment (sans running down the street naked, one would hope), finding something that, while small within the context of time, meant success or failure in that moment. Things that happen everyday will suddenly become important: a dog bite that sidelined a messenger with vital information. A thrown horseshoe that put someone in the right or wrong place at the right or wrong time. A flippant comment that fanned the flames of revolution (Let them eat cake, anyone?)
Open your eyes to what lies beyond the big picture. See the vignettes. Remember, people make history. (Yes, it's been said before, and it will be said again.) Their pictures may be small and blurry, lost against a sweeping backdrop of epic proportion, but they are there. And they have stories to tell.
It's up to you to tell them.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Editing -- not for dummies
First, I need to warn everyone that I don't edit this blog. Whatever pops into the over-ripe melon perched atop my neck is what you get--seeds and all.
I hate to edit my own work. Sad, but true. With so many stories camped within the limited confines of my skull screaming to get out, once a story is written, I'm ready to get onto the next.
I wrote "THE END", but I guess nobody got the memo.
Or maybe it's just that it took me a long time to realize "THE END" is really "THE BEGINNING" of the work phase of writing.
There are several kinds of editing--something I learned to my abject horror. There is the editing one does for contests: remove bits to fit the page count, make sure hooks are pithy and enticing, get that stellar paragraph from a later chapter and weave it into your entry (because you know that's the deal-maker), sex it up if they want hot, and tone it down if they don't. The final judge is an editor or agent who likes a certain theme or spiciness (you know because you checked the appropriate website or read it in the RWR), so you tweak a bit more, hoping to make the cut, get the request, make the grade.
From my previous blogs, you know I'm no contest diva. Not my style. The very idea of sculpting my manuscript to fit someone else's parameters seemed dishonest, a betrayal of muse, talent, and story, prostituting them for the payoff.
High ideals. The moral high road. Rising above the throng---and the muse, talent, and stories languished having no opportunity to strut their stuff.
Yeah, my reality check got cashed in a big way.
After conceding to the wisdom of a seasoned contest entrant, the changes were made, the contests entered, and people wanted to read more. The stories had an audience, the characters could begin to live for someone other than me.
Ethically, the whole sculpting idea still doesn't sit well, but the results speak for themselves. And the stories that went out were not the bastardized versions--those were keys to closed doors--but the real deal complete with the permanent addition of some of the best contest changes.
Editing for publication requires an entirely different mind and skill set. Yes, the hooks are still integral, the pacing essential, the character arcs--goals, conflicts, motivation, all the way to the happily ever after--indispensible, but there is more. This is not three chapters and a synopsis. This is the whole book, and the quality must stand throughout. No getting by with three chapters polished to high gloss while the rest wears a primer. All or nothing at all.
Abridged editions, specific audience requirements, different media, all require specialized editing--that someone else gets to do if we're lucky.
Editing someone else's work is rarely a problem. There is no personal investment. The characters aren't near and dear. Objectivity comes easily.
Not so with your own work.
I envy those who can stand back and, with a truly objective eye, slice and dice their manuscripts, stripping meat from the bones, rendering the fat, and come away with something wonderful. It is amazing to think that a person who can pour that much passion into a work can be so dispassionate in their evaluations.
I can't--yet. But I'm trying because the rest of the stories are clamoring for their turn, and they must wait until the work in progress is done.
Winners never quit, and quitters never win. Since failure is not an option, quitting is out of the question.
Anything worth doing is worth doing well. Yeah, yeah, yeah. But it's true.
So I hate editing, but I'll do it, and then I'll do it again, and again, and again if need be. Those voices banging at my cranium will not be silenced until they live between the pages of a book. They tell me they deserve that.
I believe them.
I hate to edit my own work. Sad, but true. With so many stories camped within the limited confines of my skull screaming to get out, once a story is written, I'm ready to get onto the next.
I wrote "THE END", but I guess nobody got the memo.
Or maybe it's just that it took me a long time to realize "THE END" is really "THE BEGINNING" of the work phase of writing.
There are several kinds of editing--something I learned to my abject horror. There is the editing one does for contests: remove bits to fit the page count, make sure hooks are pithy and enticing, get that stellar paragraph from a later chapter and weave it into your entry (because you know that's the deal-maker), sex it up if they want hot, and tone it down if they don't. The final judge is an editor or agent who likes a certain theme or spiciness (you know because you checked the appropriate website or read it in the RWR), so you tweak a bit more, hoping to make the cut, get the request, make the grade.
From my previous blogs, you know I'm no contest diva. Not my style. The very idea of sculpting my manuscript to fit someone else's parameters seemed dishonest, a betrayal of muse, talent, and story, prostituting them for the payoff.
High ideals. The moral high road. Rising above the throng---and the muse, talent, and stories languished having no opportunity to strut their stuff.
Yeah, my reality check got cashed in a big way.
After conceding to the wisdom of a seasoned contest entrant, the changes were made, the contests entered, and people wanted to read more. The stories had an audience, the characters could begin to live for someone other than me.
Ethically, the whole sculpting idea still doesn't sit well, but the results speak for themselves. And the stories that went out were not the bastardized versions--those were keys to closed doors--but the real deal complete with the permanent addition of some of the best contest changes.
Editing for publication requires an entirely different mind and skill set. Yes, the hooks are still integral, the pacing essential, the character arcs--goals, conflicts, motivation, all the way to the happily ever after--indispensible, but there is more. This is not three chapters and a synopsis. This is the whole book, and the quality must stand throughout. No getting by with three chapters polished to high gloss while the rest wears a primer. All or nothing at all.
Abridged editions, specific audience requirements, different media, all require specialized editing--that someone else gets to do if we're lucky.
Editing someone else's work is rarely a problem. There is no personal investment. The characters aren't near and dear. Objectivity comes easily.
Not so with your own work.
I envy those who can stand back and, with a truly objective eye, slice and dice their manuscripts, stripping meat from the bones, rendering the fat, and come away with something wonderful. It is amazing to think that a person who can pour that much passion into a work can be so dispassionate in their evaluations.
I can't--yet. But I'm trying because the rest of the stories are clamoring for their turn, and they must wait until the work in progress is done.
Winners never quit, and quitters never win. Since failure is not an option, quitting is out of the question.
Anything worth doing is worth doing well. Yeah, yeah, yeah. But it's true.
So I hate editing, but I'll do it, and then I'll do it again, and again, and again if need be. Those voices banging at my cranium will not be silenced until they live between the pages of a book. They tell me they deserve that.
I believe them.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Apology
I hate to apologize, but this needs be said: I'm sorry.
My historical writing spans several eras. While not a family saga per se, the stories follow two families (One Yorkist, one Lancastrian) that join in the first novel, diverge into the White Rose Trilogy and the Red Rose Trilogy, following different branches of the family, and join again at the end of the two series. As a result, I'm constantly second-guessing and double-checking myself on the details of each era. And therein lies the reason I need to apologize.
I never rely on a single source when doing research. Experience has taught me not all sources are trustworthy despite their credentials. My assertion that chausses are ringed armor is supported by Webster's College Dictionary (with etemolgy for obvious reasons) and Writer's Digest's Everyday Life in the Middle Ages, among others. However, while double checking another fact about masculine attire, I used a book just recently aquired, History of British Costume by James Robinson Planche. Within I read that 'They consist of hose or long stockings (the Norman chausses, in fact) tied by points,' (pg 230).
Grrrr.....
Okay, so one book could be wrong. I had another recent purchase titled A History of Costume, by Carl Kohler so pulled that one out. Although the passage is contained within descriptions for 14th century attire (my story is late 15th century), it gave me pause. On page 153 it states: This period saw a great improvement in the dress for the lower limbs, called les chausses.
Hmmm.
Two sources, both credible, both at odds with previous sources. Now what?
Out comes book #3. (I did warn you I can be anal about facts in an earlier blog.)
On page 174, Medieval Costume in England and France by Mary G. Houston states: The shoes are very long and pointed, and the hose or chausses are jointed together at the top by a gusset back and front to form one complete garment which is attached by small laces tied at intervals to the garment above.
(Oh, and just for the record, all three books disagree on other garments, both on the time of their appearance and their names. Ain't nothin' easy.)
So that's three to two on the chausses. I lose.
So I most humbly apologize, and while within the context of my own work chausses will appear only in relation to armor--hose is more easily recognizable to readers for daily wear--I promise to desist from tossing books that have naked heroes jumping from their beds and pulling on their chausses.
However, I still reserve the right to wince.
My historical writing spans several eras. While not a family saga per se, the stories follow two families (One Yorkist, one Lancastrian) that join in the first novel, diverge into the White Rose Trilogy and the Red Rose Trilogy, following different branches of the family, and join again at the end of the two series. As a result, I'm constantly second-guessing and double-checking myself on the details of each era. And therein lies the reason I need to apologize.
I never rely on a single source when doing research. Experience has taught me not all sources are trustworthy despite their credentials. My assertion that chausses are ringed armor is supported by Webster's College Dictionary (with etemolgy for obvious reasons) and Writer's Digest's Everyday Life in the Middle Ages, among others. However, while double checking another fact about masculine attire, I used a book just recently aquired, History of British Costume by James Robinson Planche. Within I read that 'They consist of hose or long stockings (the Norman chausses, in fact) tied by points,' (pg 230).
Grrrr.....
Okay, so one book could be wrong. I had another recent purchase titled A History of Costume, by Carl Kohler so pulled that one out. Although the passage is contained within descriptions for 14th century attire (my story is late 15th century), it gave me pause. On page 153 it states: This period saw a great improvement in the dress for the lower limbs, called les chausses.
Hmmm.
Two sources, both credible, both at odds with previous sources. Now what?
Out comes book #3. (I did warn you I can be anal about facts in an earlier blog.)
On page 174, Medieval Costume in England and France by Mary G. Houston states: The shoes are very long and pointed, and the hose or chausses are jointed together at the top by a gusset back and front to form one complete garment which is attached by small laces tied at intervals to the garment above.
(Oh, and just for the record, all three books disagree on other garments, both on the time of their appearance and their names. Ain't nothin' easy.)
So that's three to two on the chausses. I lose.
So I most humbly apologize, and while within the context of my own work chausses will appear only in relation to armor--hose is more easily recognizable to readers for daily wear--I promise to desist from tossing books that have naked heroes jumping from their beds and pulling on their chausses.
However, I still reserve the right to wince.
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