Woohoo! The Historical Novel Society reviewed Hidden Conflict. They say
Jordan, you may want to break your habit of never reading reviews. I think you’ll like this one 
Unhappy Hipsters. This one is particularly speaking to me today:
http://unhappyhipsters.com/post/356249598/it-was-unclear-how-her-life-had-become-so-riddled
I’ve been seeing lots of posts about Imbolc/Candlemass saying that it’s celebrating the turn of the year into spring. In this as in most things, I’m slower than everyone else. For me, February is the dark hour before the dawn, the moment when even the memory of light seems furthest away. February is 3am, the suicide hour, writ large. It’s only when March comes along that I start feeling that I’m not going to die after all.
Every year, I reach that stirring of spring with more surprise, as it seems more and more unlikely that I will ever get out of the clutch of winter depression – I’m worthless, what I write is worthless, what I think is worthless, what I say has all been said before. The world would be better off without me.
I don’t like feeling like this; avoiding everything because I don’t have the energy to deal with anything. I wish spring would hurry up, but I don’t believe in the snowdrop in my garden. I’ll only start to believe it’s all over when I see daffodils.
On a more positive note, at least the sun is out today – which helps immensely. When the sun shone on Monday, I spent the day in the conservatory with a fan heater on, so that I could soak in the light. Today, when the sun shone, I walked along the footpath half way to Haddenham, and it was lovely. An icy mist hung over the fields and the ground was mud topped with a crackling layer of ice. I was completely alone. The sky was white and so was the sun. And the horses in the fields looked like shadows, with their breath smoking. I walked for an hour and didn’t want to come back. Now I have glowing ears and a cup of coffee, so I hope today is going to be better than yesterday. Tomorrow can look after itself.
Coolness! I got my edits today for Shining in the Sun, which has brought it home to me that it’s coming out on the 8th of June, and that’s not really all that far away!
The consensus seems to be that I use far too many semicolons and exclamation marks; how can she say that! 
Nah, it’s true. I have a great fondness for semicolons, even though I don’t have any idea of the grammatical rules for using them. Or, at least, I didn’t. I do now!
Argh!!! Those exclamation marks just keep sneaking up on me. Still, I don’t comma-splice half as much as I used to, so that’s a consolation. We live and learn. Though in my case I mostly just live.
Ailith was home ill yesterday, and Rose was home ill today. You can pretty much bet that whatever it was, I’ll get it tomorrow. Which is frustrating as I now want to write, and I’m at that stage with Under the Hill where I’m well stuck in, but still have a long, long way to go before the end is in sight. I’ve still got a way to go before the middle is in sight! I’m loving Chris, though, which is always a bonus, and proving it by loading him down with so much angst that it’s a wonder the poor man can function at all.
I did a review for SiN yesterday of another Age of Sail book where the author had put a bed and a hearth in the captain’s cabin. So I now feel obliged to say that standards of comfort on a 17th/18th century ship would not have been that high. One of the greatest dangers for a wooden ship was fire – the ship was entirely timber, soaked in pitch, and – if it was a warship – carried a large stock of gunpowder. A hearth anywhere would have been just too much of a risk. Imagine what would happen to an open fire if the sea got choppy – live coals tumbling out all over the cabin! A brazier of charcoal in calm cold weather might be possible, though it would still need to be treated as a severe fire risk and supervised at all times. More normally you just wouldn’t have heating at all, except in the galley – which was specifically designed for the purpose, and only to be fired up at certain times in the day.
Also, if even Admiral Lord Nelson slept in a hanging cot, (made of a board and thin mattress stuffed in the bottom of a large, shaped, canvas hammock), I sincerely doubt if any scurvy pirate would have a double bed in his cabin. Not to mention that you’d fall out of a bed if the sea got up, whereas a hammock or cot adjusts itself to the swing and has sides to keep you in it.
Also, on a sailing ship, the wind does not stop blowing or changing direction and speed during the night, nor do there cease to be potential reefs, other ships, squalls and storms during the night. Nor – in the deep ocean – does the ship anchor at night. This means that all the tasks which have to be done during the day to keep the ship on course; someone at the wheel, enough men to let out, take in and handle the sails, someone to keep a lookout and someone to oversee all of this and make decisions – all these tasks have to be done during the night as well. That means you can’t have everyone go to bed at night. The ship’s company will be divided into at least two, possibly three watches, so that you’ve got at least one watch on, one watch off. Naval ships tried to have three watches because this allowed people occasionally to get 8 hours sleep. On a two watch system you sleep 4 hours and then have 4 hours on duty, and that’s on a good day.
Also, in a battle at sea, you pound the other ship with your cannon right up until the moment you board. But after you board you stop firing the cannon – the reason being that if you carry on firing the cannon into a ship on which your own people are fighting, you will be killing your own crew. So please, no more scenes where the pirates have boarded their prey and are fighting while cannonballs whizz around their ears.
There are very good reasons why life on board ship is not like life ashore. There are necessities which have to get done if the ship is not to crash, burn, blow up or sink. If you don’t take those factors into account then your story necessarily loses atmosphere and becomes hard to believe. If you really can’t be bothered to google the inside layout of a tall ship, and a few details about life at sea to make your pirate story more believable, is there any way I can persuade you to set the story in a house instead? Or make it sci-fi, with a metal ship, an autopilot, central heating and an artificial gravity generator. Then they could still go “yarrr” and board each other, but at least I wouldn’t be wondering how it was possible that they were still alive at all.
Oh, run, don’t walk over to this post at the Macaronis blog for some gorgeous hand coloured 18th Century drawings of a variety of Macaronis, young and old, offered for your delectation by Ken Craigside, author of Here, And Always Have Been, a collection of gay historical short stories. They’re just so charming, and it appears to be particularly fortunate in the 18th Century to wear a traffic cone on one’s head. Who’d have thought it?
From Out in Print Queer Book Review
Alex Beecroft, who is at the top of her game as a writer of historical fiction, makes a shrewd tradeoff here. By framing the story as a series of alternating journal entries by the two men, she robs the narrative of any suspense regarding the outcome—obviously these guys live to tell their tale. But she balances out that choice by creating characters that you care about—you want to know how these guys get out of the scrapes they’re in. And the settings are so vivid that you are completely drawn into the writing. It’s a great read.
I’m also particularly happy that the reviewer loved Jordan Taylor’s “No Darkness”. He says
No Darkness is a tour de force. … The delicate bond formed between the two men—one an officer, one a private; one (mostly?) straight, one gay—feels authentic in every way.
I totally agree with this and think that Jordan’s novella in this anthology is absolutely wonderful. I don’t think it’s been appreciated as it deserves on some of the reviews – probably because it’s really quite grim and not at all romantic. So I’m glad to see it get some of the praise I think it merits.
Thank you very much to reviewer Wayne Courtois
LOL! I don’t know whether to be flattered or flabberghasted, but my Google Alert this morning turned up a person on a pirate site requesting a download of “Shining in the Sun.” It’s not even due out until the 8th of June!
It’s nice to know that the word is out and there are people eagerly anticipating my next novel. And if they read it and think “wow, I’ll have to get this one,” and go out and buy it afterwards, then I’m fine with that. Given this article about free Kindle copies of books, I am definitely thinking that I will sign up for Samhain’s monthly Kindle giveaway scheme as a form of publicity. But at some point money needs to get back to the publishers and the writers or they will not be able to afford to write or publish the next book. Then the whole thing stops and everyone loses out.
So yes, I’m flattered that I’ve got a fan, but I’m thinking “If you like my work, please buy it. Do your bit to support the writer and the infrastructure which enables the books to be produced. That way there will be more books, and you’ll get to read those too.”
The high street where I live has long had an empty shop on it. It was briefly a printer, and I tried to encourage trade by going in there to have some postcards printed. They said they could do it, no problem, but when I came back at 3pm a couple of days later with my image on a memory stick (having to climb the steep hill to get there from my road) they were closed. Closed at 3 on a weekday afternoon! Needless to say, a month or so later they were closed permanently and the shop shut again.
On Wednesday (in my exciting writerly life) I was walking to the corner shop to buy milk when I noticed that the shop was now occupied by a photographic studio. It just so happened that I’d had three requests for signed photos that week, and no photo to give. So I went in and booked a slot to have a promo photo taken.
I’ve been incommunicado the past few days as I spent the weekend at the Whittlesey Straw Bear festival.
Last year we went to this as spectators and it was mind and body numbingly cold but just so bizarre and amazing and fun that we determined to learn to morris ourselves. All year long I was thinking “in 2010 I’ll be dancing in the Straw Bear festival!” But as it turned out, my shoulders have been getting worse and I can’t flick a hanky above waist height any more. I certainly can’t do stars or swings, and even the stepping jars everything and makes things hurt more.
So, no dancing after all. However, all was not lost. Ely and Littleport’s regular bodhran player, John, was dancing at Straw Bear, in a side called Mepal Molly. I loaned him my 18th Century working woman’s clothes for the occasion, and he looked better than I do in them!
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