I was always fascinated in my history classes and majored in it as an undergraduate in college. I’m married to an historian and read (and get roped into translating) more than my fair share of academic books and papers.
When I travel, I drive my kids insane lingering over the museum exhibitions that explain how life was back in a particular time. I love to imagine myself living back in that time and wonder what it must have been like.
One of the reasons I probably love living in Europe so much is that sense of history that jumps out at you each day from every little town, every cobble stoned path and beautiful church.
So it’s hardly surprising that I like writing historical fiction, or adding historical elements to my contemporary fiction.
My current project, Dark Blue Waves, has a modern woman travelling back in time to Bath, England in 1813.
I’ve been having a lot of fun with the research of what life would be like in early 19th century Bath and on a grand manor house. At a certain point in my story, the modern character finds herself in trouble because she does not know how to ride sidesaddle.
I’ve seen riding habits for riding sidesaddle in museums and they’ve always fascinated me. Now I’m having fun poring over drawings of these habits and wondering how on earth women could ride in such saddles, with such cumbersome dresses that they needed to tuck under their legs to ensure that no ankle was displayed and that a female rider appeared suitably elegant.
Looking through all these wonderful lithographs, with these elegant ladies and their meters and meters of fabric on their riding habit, I can’t help but be impressed by the so-called ‘weaker sex’.
Not surprisingly, so is the character in my novel. An expert rider herself, she wears the habit, but chooses not to risk life and limb riding sidesaddle. I can hardly blame her!