Ellie Thomas: Elizabethan Theatre

Ellie Thomas is here to talk about Elizabethan Theatre and her new release, Stage Struck.

Ellie Thomas, Stage Struck

Thank you so much, Ally, for having me as your guest today! I’m Ellie Thomas, and I write Historical Gay Romance. In this blog, I’ll be chatting about my latest story with JMS Books, released on August 21st. It’s a Hot Flash entitled Stage Struck.

As the Elizabeth Theatre Scene in London is one of my favourite periods of history, writing a story with that backdrop was sheer self-indulgence!

Although there were travelling players and makeshift theatres during Tudor times, it was only during the later years of Queen Elizabeth’s reign (1558 – 1603) that purpose-built theatres were established in London. And demand for this type of entertainment was very high. 

Literary historians have compared the actors and writers of the era to the Hollywood movie machine in the 1930s due to the sheer volume of plays produced and performed. Also, by the 1590s, some theatres were outside the city walls in the lawless suburb of Southwark. So there has been academic comparison to the New York rap scene in the 1990s, given the element of edgy danger.

I have to admit, the research wasn’t exactly onerous for this one. I happily scanned my bookshelves to find my three favourite books on the era and sat outside in the garden to re-read them.

To check Elizabethan clothing, meals and customs, I consulted How to be a Tudor by the inspiring “method historian” Ruth Goodman, who has spent most of her career as a historical researcher living as a 16th-century citizen. This makes her writing not only meticulously knowledgeable but full of enthusiasm.

As I couldn’t quite remember how much it cost to enter a theatre or rent a cushion for those hard oak benches in the upper galleries, that was the perfect excuse to consult Rebuilding Shakespeare’s Globe by Andrew Gurr. This remarkable book is a wonderful guide by the architectural historians engaged in excavating the original Globe theatre. They aimed to reconstruct Shakespeare’s playhouse on London’s Southbank, completed in the 1990s. So the book has fantastic illustrations that bring the Elizabethan theatre-going experience to life.

Finally, from my over-stuffed bookshelves, I could pick one of my very favourite books, Roaring Boys by Judith Cook. It is a fascinating and hugely entertaining insight into the writers, actors and managers of the London theatres of that time. 

Whenever I have a student in their early teens who is utterly baffled by their first reading of Shakespeare in English class, this is my go-to resource. The Prologue has a colourful description of the bustling streets of Southwark in the 1590s. It begins with a depiction of the playwright Robert Greene, strutting along Bankside. He wears a doublet in the trendsetting colour of “goose turd green,” and sports a fashionable pointed beard. Despite his swagger, Cook portrays him trying to avoid bumping into Phillip Henslowe, manager of The Rose Theatre. Greene has tricked him into paying a sum for a play he promised was entirely new. As it’s already been performed, this explains the avoidance tactics. By the time I’ve read this vibrant extract out loud, then shown the student the drawings of a packed house at the original theatre in Rebuilding Shakespeare’s Globe, they are hooked!

In terms of characters for this story, it was easy to imagine a stage-struck Londoner in Stephen, using his spare time away from his humdrum work as a clerk to cross the river for the excitements of Southwark and lose himself in a play. As the major actors were the equivalent of movie stars today, and beyond the aspirations of ordinary folk, it made sense to make his love interest, Ioan, a jobbing player and a newcomer to London and the theatre scene.

Ioan might be handsome and dashing but is attracted by Stephen’s genuine sincerity and steadiness. In this way, I wanted to focus on the growing connection between two young men who are slightly adrift until they find each other. It was such a joy to have the lively, rollicking, and sometimes risky background of the theatres of Southwark to contrast with the sweetness of soul mates as my two heroes meet and fall in love.

Stage Struck

Stage Struck by Ellie Thomas

As a humble scribe living out a humdrum existence in the City of London in Elizabethan times, Stephen finds his escape across the river amongst the crowds of the teeming theatres where he is transported by the spectacle.

But poetry isn’t everything. When a young Welsh actor called Ioan catches his eye, he’s tempted to overcome his shyness and make his acquaintance. Is Stephen out of his depth in this colourful world with its undertones of danger? Or might there be a slim chance that Ioan can return his feelings?

Preorder Stage Struck from JMS Books

Extract

“That’s my cousin Beth,” Ioan said in explanation. “I stay here with her and her husband, William.” He grinned. “I came to London to help out when William fell off a ladder and broke his leg and an extra pair of hands was needed urgently. Quite a few players drink here and I got to know them. Once Will had recovered, rather than going home, I got my chance to act.”

“How did that happen?” Stephen asked, intrigued.

“Oh, the usual thing,” Ioan said laconically. “One of the bit-players was in a drunken brawl and got himself stabbed. Not in here, thank the Good Lord,” he added quickly, “and not fatally either. The Lord Admiral’s Men needed a hasty replacement and since I was in the habit of hanging around backstage at The Rose when I wasn’t needed here, I had a good idea of what to do. So I got hired on the spot by Mr. Henslowe. Not that I have to say much, just get on and off the stage at the right time,” he added modestly.

“That sounds exciting,” said Stephen, wistfully.

“Beats helping my father sell leather goods in Abergavenny,” laughed Ioan. “I’ve had some good fortune, so I’m making the best of it while I can. What about you? What do you do?” He asked with genuine interest.

“Oh, I’m just a scribe,” Stephen said dismissively.

Those dark eyebrows raised, “Skilled work,” Ioan commented as if impressed. “Copyists are always needed.”

“I’m only a scrivener and not even apprenticed to a notary as yet,” Stephen explained, “although I hope to be, and then eventually be promoted as a notary in time, with luck.”

Ioan smiled, “A man with ambition.”

“A man with not enough coin to fulfil his ambitions,” Stephen said, grinning, starting to relax.

As Ioan opened his mouth to remark further, both men heard his name called across the crowded room and turned to see Beth beckoning.

“Time to earn my keep,” Ioan said with a rueful grin. As he rose, Stephen started to gulp down his ale, swallowing his regret that they could not talk further. He was surprised when Ioan laid a hand on his arm. “Don’t rush, unless you have to? The food’s good here and I can join you for supper later.”

Stephen looked up at him in surprise and saw warmth and a hint of promise in those dark brown eyes. “I can stay,” he said almost hoarsely and was awarded a dazzling grin.

Preorder Stage Struck from JMS Books

About Ellie

Ellie Thomas lives by the sea. She comes from a teaching background and goes for long seaside walks where she daydreams about history. She is a voracious reader especially about anything historical. She mainly writes historical gay romance.

Ellie also writes historical erotic romance as L. E. Thomas.

Find Ellie on Facebook : Ellie’s Website

The Fog of War, out today!

And…we’re off! The Fog of War is live today! I am so grateful to everyone who has reviewed and let me drop in to their blogs with posts and such-like. It’s a sapphic, historical, paranormal, romantic mystery set in rural England in 1920.

To celebrate today, I’m hosting a party at the Lester Towers facebook group with lots of friends dropping in to say hi and offer giveaways.

I’ve also got a Rafflecopter draw running from the 13th-17th of August with a chance to win a $10 Amazon gift-card if you fancy throwing your hat into the ring.

Finally, I’m doing a bit of a blog-tour talking about the characters, settings and the history behind it and you’ll be able to find the other posts listed on my website as they come out this week. I’ve already visited Anne Barwell’s blog to talk about the village of Bradfield, Elizabeth Noble’s blog to talk about where I’d go if I could time travel and The Sapphic Bookclub to talk about the women-led hospitals in WW1.

The Fog of War

The Fog of War by A. L. Lester, First in the Bradfield Trilogy, part of the Border Magic Universe
  • Publisher: JMS Books LLC
  • Editor: Lourenza Adlem
  • Release date: 14 Aug 2014
  • Word Count: 50,000 words
  • Genre: Sapphic, found-family, historical, paranormal romantic mystery set in 1920s England.
  • Content Warning: Mention of domestic violence.

The quiet village of Bradfield should offer Dr Sylvia Marks the refuge she seeks when she returns home from her time in a field hospital in France in 1918. However, she is still haunted by the disappearance of her ambulance-driver lover two years previously ,and settling down as a village doctor is more difficult than she realised it would be after the excitement of front-line medicine. Then curious events at a local farm, mysterious lights and a hallucinating patient’s strange illness make her revisit her assessment of Anna’s death on the battlefield.

Lucille Hall-Bridges is at a loose end now her nursing work is finished. She felt useful as a nurse and now she really doesn’t know what to do with her life. She hopes going to stay with her friend Sylvia for a while will help her find a way forward. And if that involves staying at Bradfield with Sylvia…then that’s fine with her.

Will the arrival of Lucy at Bradfield be the catalyst that allows both women to lay their wartime stresses to rest? Can Sylvia move on from her love affair with Anna and find happiness with Lucy, or is she still too entwined in the unresolved endings of the past?

The first in the Bradfield trilogy, set in the Border Magic universe.

Publisher buy-link : Buy everywhere elseAdd on Goodreads

Fog of War banner

Excerpt

It was a beautiful late August day when Sylvia motored down to Taunton to collect Lucy from the railway station. The sun shone through the trees as she followed the lane down the hill from the village and the sky above was a beautiful summer blue. She had left the all-weather hood of the Austin down and wore a scarf and gloves against the wind, topping her trouser outfit off with her new hat, which she pinned firmly to the neat coil of her long hair.

Walter had watched her fussing with her appearance in the hall mirror, stuffing his pipe. “Are you sweet on her?” he asked, somewhat acerbically.

“It’ll be cold with the hood down,” she said, crushingly.

“Yes, yes, so it will be.” He turned his attention back to his tobacco, face straight. “Be careful on the bends.”

“I will,” she said. “She’s a beast to drive, smooth on the straights and handles well on the corners, but I’ve no desire to end up in the ditch.”

The Fog of War. Historical, paranormal, 1920s England

She’d bought the big Austin coupe late last winter when she’d got fed up riding her motorcycle out to some of the more remote houses she was called to in the dreadful weather. It was huge, far bigger than she needed really, although the back seat was useful to transport a patient if she had to. She still preferred her ‘cycle, but it wasn’t exactly suitable as a doctor’s vehicle. Not very staid at all. The Austin wasn’t very staid either, in that it was huge and expensive; but one of the benefits of a private income was that she could afford it; and so why not be comfortable?

She pondered all this and more on the drive down to Taunton, mind floating along with no real purpose. She loved to drive and for some reason it calmed her thoughts and allowed them to drift.

It would be lovely to see Lucy again. As Walt had said, she was a sweet little thing. Although Sylvia didn’t want to revisit the grim minutiae of some of the worst times at Royaumont, it would be lovely to reminisce about some of their happier moments of camaraderie. It had been four years of extreme stress and grim terror lightened with moments of laughter and fun. Working with a team of competent women all pulling together for one purpose had been extraordinary. She’d never experienced anything like it before and she doubted she would again. She was delighted some of the staff had set up a regular newsletter so they could all  stay connected.

And so what if Lucy was sweet on her. Sylvia wasn’t interested in that kind of complication anymore. She didn’t want to cause gossip in the village for a start…although she supposed people wouldn’t make any assumptions about two women living together these days after so many men hadn’t come home from France. But anyway, even if it wouldn’t cause gossip, she didn’t think about Lucy like that. And she doubted Lucy thought about Sylvia like that, despite Walter’s teasing. He was stirring the pot a little to see what bubbled up, that was all.

Those musings took her to the station.

The train was on time and was just pulling in as she got out of the car. She walked out onto the platform as the smoke was clearing and through the clouds, she made out Lucy.

She was beside the guard’s van, directing the guard and porters to what seemed like an unnecessarily large pile of luggage. Despite the clement August weather, she was wearing an extremely smart velvet coat with a fur collar over a beautiful travelling suit that hung to mid calf, topped with an extraordinary confection of a hat.

She looked competent and sophisticated and exceptionally beautiful. Not at all the slightly scapegrace young person of 1916 who had persuaded the hospital powers-that-be she was a suitable candidate for France, although she’d been only twenty-one and inexperienced as a nurse.

Well. Gosh.

Publisher buy-link : Buy everywhere elseAdd on Goodreads

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Why ‘The Fog of War’?

As I may have mentioned, just in passing, The Fog of War is out tomorrow. One or two people have pointed out that it’s a slightly peculiar title juxtaposed with the 1920s art-deco cover and what the heck is going on?

The Fog of War. Historical, paranormal, 1920s Englandl

I have a confession, then.

Mr AL named it.

I mean, of course I thought it was a good title and went with it, he didn’t elbow me out of the way to fill in the PUT TITLE HERE bit on the submission form or anything. But he came up with it. He did the same for a couple of my other stories, too–he seems to have a bit of a gift for it. He doesn’t read my books or beta for me or anything, we write in very different genres. But he does listen patiently as I whine about plot-holes and helps me tighten up my blurbs. I do the same for him and it works quite well, I think.

When he came up with it, just throwing potential titles out at me at lightening speed, it immediately struck home.

It’s an evocative phrase first used exactly in the 1890s, although fog, twilight, moonlight and similar concepts had been used earlier in the century by a chap called Carl Von Clausewitz. It describes the confusion of battle, how uncertainty about capability and action on the battlefield are a hindrance or can be used to ones advantage.

It immediately resonated for me because Sylvia and Lucy and their friends are drifting round trying to work out what happened to Anna without having enough information to understand the bigger picture. In retrospect I think it probably clashes terribly with the cartoon cover; but I love the title and I love the artwork, so here we are!

Remember tomorrow there’s a release-party in my facebook group to celebrate the book going live. Lots of author friends are popping in the say hi and both they and I have giveaways and games galore. Do pop in and join in! I also have a Rafflecopter draw going to win a $10 Amazon gift card that you can join today.

The Fog of War Release Party

Author expectations versus reality

person riding kayak
Photo by Aleksey Kuprikov on Pexels.com

I’ve been writing one way and another since Miss Lowe told me off for using ‘again and again’ repetitively in my story about a man climbing a mountain circa 1978. I don’t think I’ve ever really thought of myself as ‘a writer’ or an ‘author’. It was always something I was going to become in my future.

I’m fifty-one now and my first book was published about four years ago with JMS Books. I now have a dozen books and short stories out in the wild. The future is here… but I still don’t really feel like a ‘proper’ writer. It’s a strange sort of disconnection. I’m published, people bough the first book and presumably quite liked it because they went on to buy more. But I still don’t feel like a real author. Not that being published or not published is a distinction, at all- if you write, you are a writer. But for me it’s a confidence issue.

It’s not that I expected to lay on a chaise in a negligee a la Barbara Cartland and have a crowd of beautiful persons of all genders peel grapes to hand-feed me whilst I dictated to my pug. But somehow, I expected that by this point I would feel more at ease with the idea that people like my work.

I didn’t expect to spend so much of the time writing-but-not-writing. My non-family time is carved out with a pickaxe around medical and education appointments and the care of a severely disabled child. My own health limitations compound that. So sometimes I have three hours in the day to work, sometimes I have none.

The thing that has really amazed me, naively probably, is that I spend as much time on social media, marketing and networking as I do writing. I blog and I have Facebook, Instagram and Twitter presences that need keeping fresh. I don’t think there’s much point having them if you’re set on transmit the whole time and don’t interact. And I like interacting. I make graphics using Canva for my social media. I write my newsletter. I’ve just started experimenting with tiktok. I use Facebook mostly to chat with other genre authors rather than reader groups and I use Twitter to ramble about life in general rather than having a closely curated online personality.

Sometimes I feel spread very thin. On the other hand, if I don’t have enough head space for writing or for research, still being able to write and schedule a blog post feels like I have achieved something, even if it’s not another thousand words of my work in progress. For example, I’m writing this with a child sat beside me attempting to deconstruct my glasses and get me to watch Mr Tumble on her iPad. It’s unlikely I’ll manage many actual words, but a post like this I can pick up and put down as required.

A lot of my support network is online, particularly in these COVID-times. That was something I expected- I’ve had an online presence one way or another since the mid-nineties and as far as I’m concerned there’s not much difference between online friends and real friends. But sometimes it’s nice to sit in a room with actual warm bodies and kick ideas around.

I perhaps didn’t expect there to be such a community feel to writing. The first group I ever joined was a Goodreads writer group and I got such a lot of support from there that it really did give me the confidence to submit for publication. I don’t think I would have if they hadn’t been so supportive. (Thank you, if any of you read this). I think QRI and groups like it are a fantastic resource for authors to support each other.

We are essentially lone wolves, but it’s nice to have a pack when you need one.

adventure backlit dawn dusk
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Interview: Change of Plans by Addison Albright

Addison Albright is visiting today to talk about her new release, please give her a warm welcome!

Addison Albright's extremely spiffy rainbow logo!

Thank you so much, Ally, for having me here on your wonderful blog today! (Hello Addison, thank you so much for visiting!) Hello, Ally’s lovely readers! I’ve got a new release out—my first in over a year—and I appreciate the opportunity to share a little bit about my story.

First of all, I should point out that this story completes a trilogy. I carefully inserted enough background information so that a random reader picking it up would not be completely lost, so the story can stand alone, but it is definitely not written as a standalone.

Since my new novella, Change of Plans, contains a few of my favorite tropes, I’ve written a trio of guest posts for fellow JMS Books writer-friend’s blogs, each highlighting one of those tropes. Today let’s discuss Arranged Marriage.

Hard to say why I love the Arranged Marriage trope in stories when the idea horrifies me in real life. I suppose it’s because, at least in romance stories, it’s pretty much guaranteed to work out. It’s often paired with enemies-to-lovers, which can also be fun, although I’ve yet to dabble in that trope myself.

In the Plans Trilogy, the arranged marriage between naïve young Prince Marcelo of Sheburat and Efren, the crown prince of Zioneven is only enemies-to-lovers in a very superficial way. The two of them were unacquainted before their unexpected and sudden wedding ceremony in book one. Their marriage took place only because The Contingency Plan was activated in a treaty between realms that were former enemies. So they had no personal enmity for each other.

After getting over his initial shock and accepting that his life is about to be turned upside down, Marcelo is reasonable, responsible, and hopeful of a happy future. So the story avoids the oft-seen MC running from his marriage (or even sabotaging or otherwise fighting it), and instead we have our MC working through his doubts and fears in what is ultimately a meet-cute novelette that spawned a trilogy.

Our heroes run into danger on their way to Efren’s homeland in the novella, The Best-Laid Plans, then the Arranged Marriage trope comes into play again in my new novella, Change of Plans, when the princes are dosed with a mind-wiping toxin and Marcelo must once again come to terms with the fact he’s already established in an arranged marriage that he’s forgotten, while at the same time solving the mystery of what’s behind this fresh attack as well as the drama in the earlier stories.

What are some of your favorite Arranged Marriage stories? Why do you enjoy them?

Look for my discussion on the Hurt/Comfort trope on Nell Iris’s blog back on July 17, and look for my upcoming discussion on the Memory Loss trope on Ofelia Grand’s blog on August 13.

Once upon a time, two handsome young princes fell in love, faced down adversity and lived happily ever after... until one romantic evening they unwittingly ate a confection laced with a mind-wiping toxin. Change of Plans by Addison Albright.
Excerpt

(From Chapter 8)

Marcelo, present day

Why, oh why, with all that was going on, was Marcelo finding it so difficult to focus on anything other than Efren’s fingers as he manipulated his utensils? And Efren’s mouth as he opened it to take bites then slowly chew?

Deliberately slowly chew his food, if Marcelo wasn’t mistaken.

Had Marcelo been obvious in his observations? Were Efren’s actions in response to Marcelo’s interest? Or had Efren purposely drawn Marcelo’s attention in the first place?

Or was Marcelo reading too much into Efren’s simple movements?

Marcelo swallowed a bite of his own and told himself the reason he was so distracted was because the royal family had ceased to talk about the drama going on in the castle since it was their policy not to discuss politics at the table, and there was nothing more to do other than baselessly speculate until they gained more intelligence from the people out making inquiries anyway. Attending to the everyday chitchat between Rolland, Merewina, and Tristan as they attempted to maintain a sense of normalcy didn’t take too much concentration.

Sure, that was all it was. Marcelo’s newfound obsession with another man’s hands and eating process had nothing at all to do with memory flashes of Efren’s unshaven skin rasping tantalizingly around Marcelo’s mouth when they’d kissed in the not-dream. Marcelo stilled his hand that had started toward his mouth to rub a phantom tingle and suppressed a self-depreciating snort.

“You are each enamored with the other.” Once again, Erich’s words echoed through Marcelo’s mind, and despite everyone’s assurances that Marcelo had previously conducted himself in some kind of brave, heroic manner, regret churned in his belly that he hadn’t had the courage to open his eyes during that kiss.

Or better, to have tossed caution to the wind and embraced the moment…and Efren.

But to be fair to himself, not being able to ascertain how he’d come to be in a stranger’s arms in an unknown place was what had been so terrifying, rather than the situation itself. Surely thinking one had somehow lost their mind would be spine-chilling to most.

When Merewina’s ill-disguised snicker broke his reverie, Marcelo’s fork slipped from his fingers and landed with a clink that seemed unnaturally loud.

“Really, Efren,” she said, “it’s all I can do not to break all semblance of decorum to toss a sticky bun at you.”

“Do I want to know why?” The deepening lines around Efren’s eyes answered his own question. If Marcelo was reading his husband correctly, he already knew why, yet had no objection to hearing his sister’s explanation.

Marcelo turned his gaze to Merewina.

Her eyes narrowed at her brother. “You are utterly merciless.”

Efren’s eyes widened theatrically. “Me?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. You are shameless, teasing poor Marcelo like that.”

Marcelo’s face warmed. Yet a thrill coursed through his veins. He’d been right about Efren’s actions, and just as Erich had said, this handsome and powerful man was also drawn to him.

Efren’s lips quirked into a smile that curled Marcelo’s toes. “Dear sister, I assure you”—he winked at Marcelo—“I’m detecting no displeasure from my lovely young husband.”

Marcelo’s cheeks had to be flaming red, they felt so hot, but he held Efren’s gaze, and his own lips twitched into a sheepish grin.

Change of Plans
Addison Albright, Change of Plans, cover.

Fantasy Romance, 32,026-word (108 page) novella

Once upon a time, two handsome young princes fell in love, faced down adversity, and lived happily-ever-after … until one romantic evening, they unwittingly ate a confection laced with a mind-wiping toxin.

Crown Prince Efren of Zioneven blindsided Prince Marcelo of Sheburat when he used The Contingency Plan embedded in a peace treaty to marry the naïve young prince. Now, Marcelo is shocked again when he awakens in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar land, in the arms of a stranger who’s taking such liberties!

Will that ignominious new beginning to their relationship doom their chances at rekindling their love? Or will Efren’s giddiness and the less formal surroundings of Zioneven propel them toward a more teasingly fun rapport?

Marcelo and Efren have forgotten more than their love. On their journey home to Zioneven, their Best-Laid Plans went awry when Marcelo was abducted. Now, neither remembers the unexpected strength of character and ingenuity Marcelo manifested to survive his harrowing ordeal, or Efren’s frantic search for his new husband.

Were Marcelo and Efren specifically targeted for the Forget-Me-Not poisoning, or were they the victims of a random assault? Is this new attack related to Marcelo’s abduction and his sister’s death? Will Marcelo revert to his old mild-mannered, unassuming self, or will he step up to prove he’s the same brave man his new family claims he is amid the fresh danger swirling around them?

Buy the series! : Book 1: The Contingency Plan : Book 2: The Best-Laid Plans : Book 3: Change of Plans
About Addison

Addison Albright is a writer living in the middle of the USA. Her stories are gay romance in contemporary, fantasy, paranormal, and science fiction genres. She generally adds a subtle touch of humor, a dash of drama/angst, and a sprinkle of slice-of-life to her stories. Her education includes a BS in Education with a major in mathematics and a minor in chemistry. Addison loves spending time with her family, reading, popcorn, boating, French fries, “open window weather,” cats, math, and anything chocolate. She loves to read pretty much anything and everything, anytime and anywhere.

Website : Facebook Page : Facebook Profile : Twitter (@AddisonAlbright) : BookBub : Amazon