Happy New Year, everyone! It's the first day of a new calendar, and as such, of course I scurried happily to my computer this morning to see how The Ravenna Evans Series was doing thus far. Had I sold more books? Had I received any reviews?
In fact I did receive an Amazon review overnight, and a negative one at that. Now don't get me wrong: I appreciate any review, good or bad, because everyone is entitled to their opinion, and reviews are meant for potential readers, not authors.
But there were two little things in this review which irked me. I'll explain.
Firstly, it has been said that my heroine, Ravenna, is too virginal for a modern girl in her mid-twenties. Well, allow me to introduce myself: My name is J. Jay Kamp, and I am in fact the world's oldest living virgin at 45 years and counting. When I wrote the character of Ravenna, I was writing from personal experience; it was 1990 or so when I began penning The Last Killiney, and my brushes with boys (or anyone for that matter) had been limited to a handful of kisses and two embarrassing almost-sexual encounters. As a writer, I seek to imbue my work with as much realism and emotion as I can, and Ravenna was based almost entirely upon my own past. So to be told that no one could possibly be as virginal as Ravenna...that hurts. I was. I am. It happens to some girls, believe it or not, that they cannot find a man who rocks their world enough to give up their most precious of possessions: their first intimacy with another person.
The other minor detail mentioned in this review: the reviewer points out that I have committed a spelling error by naming a room in Wolvesfield House "the Saloon." Please understand this was not an error on my part. I did not mean to say "salon." Wolvesfield House was inspired by many English country houses, one of them being the very famous Saltram in Devonshire (now owned by the National Trust). There was a time when "saloon" was the proper term for a large great room (for more, see Life in the English Country House by Mark Girouard). Of course if there really are spelling errors in my books, I would be delighted to hear about them, so I can set the dogs on them and quietly exterminate the bejesus out if them, then re-upload the corrected document so no one else must suffer a novel full of typos. But when an error isn't really an error...that is a creature of a different color entirely.
Your comments -- and reviews -- are enthusiastically welcomed. :)
Showing posts with label past lives. Show all posts
Showing posts with label past lives. Show all posts
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Johnny Depp, etc.
It's no secret that I adore Johnny Depp. I've been a fan ever since the opening moments of the first Pirates movie, when Jack Sparrow sashayed down the dock with that endearing wobbliness we've all come to know and love. In fact, that's when I began writing The Wager -- on the very night I returned from my first showing of Pirates in July of 2003.
So back in 1986 I had not yet discovered the unique and quirky charms of Mr. Depp. The television show that launched his stardom, 21 Jump Street, had not yet aired, and his movie debut, A Nightmare on Elm Street, was the type of film I avoided. Johnny was completely unknown to me when I made my first trip to England in late 1986, and it was then I began to recall a past life -- a life in which I was the loving wife of a handsome eighteenth-century Irish musician.
You see, much like my character, Ravenna Evans, in The Last Killiney, I remember my past life in Georgian London. I wrote a book about it (The Singer's Wife: The Reincarnation of Mary Carter), so I won't go into detail here, but suffice it to say that I've spent nearly twenty-five years proving to myself that my memories of that past life are real. I've kept notes, drawn pictures, and traveled extensively all over the UK, researching the husband that I remember. His name was Thomas Carter.
What does this have to do with Johnny Depp? Well, just this:
On the left is a poster for Johnny's 2006 movie, The Libertine. On the right is a poor likeness of Thomas Carter (my husband from the past life I remember) which I sketched in 1986. The drawing does not resemble Thomas Carter much, but there are certainly similarities with The Libertine press photo. One has to wonder if part of the reason I'm enamoured of Johnny in the first place is because of some resemblance in the cheekbones between past-life husband and modern inspiration. Thomas Carter's bone structure was pretty nice.
So back in 1986 I had not yet discovered the unique and quirky charms of Mr. Depp. The television show that launched his stardom, 21 Jump Street, had not yet aired, and his movie debut, A Nightmare on Elm Street, was the type of film I avoided. Johnny was completely unknown to me when I made my first trip to England in late 1986, and it was then I began to recall a past life -- a life in which I was the loving wife of a handsome eighteenth-century Irish musician.
You see, much like my character, Ravenna Evans, in The Last Killiney, I remember my past life in Georgian London. I wrote a book about it (The Singer's Wife: The Reincarnation of Mary Carter), so I won't go into detail here, but suffice it to say that I've spent nearly twenty-five years proving to myself that my memories of that past life are real. I've kept notes, drawn pictures, and traveled extensively all over the UK, researching the husband that I remember. His name was Thomas Carter.
What does this have to do with Johnny Depp? Well, just this:
On the left is a poster for Johnny's 2006 movie, The Libertine. On the right is a poor likeness of Thomas Carter (my husband from the past life I remember) which I sketched in 1986. The drawing does not resemble Thomas Carter much, but there are certainly similarities with The Libertine press photo. One has to wonder if part of the reason I'm enamoured of Johnny in the first place is because of some resemblance in the cheekbones between past-life husband and modern inspiration. Thomas Carter's bone structure was pretty nice.
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