Fridays at Ofelia’s | Stage Struck by Ellie Thomas

Guest-Post

Thank you so much, Ofelia, for having me as your guest again! 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 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.

Blurb:

stagestruckAs 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?

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.

Buy link:

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.

Website :: Facebook

Fridays at Ofelia’s | Wandering a Luminous Sea

Interview

Today, Kayleigh Sky is here on a visit, and she’s gonna answer some questions for us 😀 Welcome, Kayleigh!

Which writers inspire you and why?

Off the top of my head, I can name Cormac McCarthy and Ernest Hemingway. Both use a spare, clear prose that just sings to me. Ernest Hemingway has one of the most exquisite first paragraphs (in A Farewell to Arms) I’ve ever read, and Cormac McCarthy has one of the most emotional and heartbreaking last paragraphs (in The Road) I’ve ever read. Both wrote down to the bone in terms of the truth about the human experience. Neither one shied away from the hard stuff, and I love both their works.

What do you like to do when you’re not writing?

So many things! Lol. Most of what I do actually fuels my writing in one way or another. I love to meditate and practice yoga, and I’m a huge advocate of walking. I also really love photography, and I read tarot. I don’t think I could function without my bullet journal. Other times, I enjoy getting together with family or friends, playing with my cats, and reading, of course!

As a writer, what would choose as your mascot/spirit animal?

My forever cat, Sammy. I lost him two and a half years ago, but he was with me day and night as I wrote. And he was the sweetest, happiest, most loving animal I’ve ever known. I write to him everyday in my journal, so I like to think he’s still a part of my journey.

How do you select the names of your characters?

Mostly by osmosis. I’m only half joking. If I don’t get the name right, the character won’t speak to me clearly. I wrote the first draft of A Vampire’s Heart with the wrong name for Jessa. I just couldn’t get his character down. I kept looking through books and online for the right name, and then I saw Jessamine, and thought, yes! I rewrote all his parts, and he just came alive in all his sunny sweetness. For Doll Baby, I instantly knew the character’s initials, but not their full names, so I had to go looking again. Sometimes the name just comes to me without any problems. Jody in Wandering a Luminous Sea was Jody right away. In my WIP, I had so much trouble with one of MC’s names, I finally just said, fine, be a dick. In fact, that’s what I’ll call you. Dick. So I did and realized not far into the story, that that was his name! So anyway, it’s always a challenge, and I come to their names in many different ways.

Wandering a Luminous Sea

Wandering a Luminous Sea

Happy ever after, pearls, and murder—what else is true love made of?

After escaping his cold fish of an ex, Jody Knox had everything—a new career, his goofy dog, and the love of his life, Merik. He couldn’t believe his luck…

Until it changed. In the worst way.

After stumbling onto the love of his life, Merik Lighthouse had a dilemna—solve the mystery of the missing mer and return to the sea, or confess his secret identity and risk losing Jody. He couldn’t decide…

Until someone decided for him. Permanently.

Or maybe not…

Wandering a Luminous Sea is for you if you love paranormal contemporary fantasy, gay love stories, fairytales, and suspense.

Oh… and a loveable poodle named Ellery Queen.

Buy now or read on Kindle Unlimited today!

Please note: this is an intense love story with a happy ending, but it is not a traditional romance. It is a paranormal fantasy with a central love story.

Excerpt:

Soft kisses dragged sparks across his jaw, glowing like hot coals against his neck. He groaned and hugged the strong body in his arms.

Why not believe in magic and happy endings? What if all it took was Jody opening his eyes and letting the pixie dust be real? Not telling himself it wasn’t? Not playing along with what everybody else said?

What if he believed?

And Merik’s words were as though Jody had written them. “I came back for you.” From the ends of the earth. From the deeps of the sea. From across time. “For you.”

For me.

Buy link:

https://smarturl.it/LuminousSea

Fridays @ Ofelia’s | Magician by K.L. Noone

Guest-Post

Today, I’m glad to say that K.L. Noone is back for a visit. Welcome!

Hi, I’m K.L. Noone, and I write LGBTQ romance—everything from contemporary to historical to paranormal, often m/m but sometimes f/f, or m/f with bisexual characters, or even m/m/m superheroes! Ofelia has been kind enough to let me drop by to introduce my upcoming novel, Magician, available from JMS Books July 24!

Magician is high fantasy, in a sort of early modern world—there’re printed novels and merchant ships alongside magicians and princes, but we haven’t quite got up to steam-power yet. It’s m/m, with bisexual main characters—or at least Gareth is cheerfully bi, and Lorre is, well, whatever he wants to be, being both an ancient magician and a shapeshifter, on occasion. (He’s historically been and done quite a lot…) It’s very much about guilt, and redemption, and trying to hide from the world on a deserted tropical island (because one might as well hide and feel guilty for one’s past mistakes in comfort!), and then it’s about what happens when an optimistic young prince shows up on one’s island and believes with all his heart that the world’s last legendary magician has to help with his quest, because that’s how quests go, isn’t it…

It’s also got cinnamon-blackberry scones, and an older-brother king who bakes as stress relief, and a bard singing a terrible ballad in a tavern. Plus a few bandits. And some hurt/comfort, because I do love a good hurt/comfort scene. And also a good amount of tea.

I’m so excited to share this one with the world, because Magician is a novel that’s very close to my heart—in some ways I’ve been working on it, or not-working on it, for over ten years! It began, in fact, as a spin-off story from my first-ever published (m/f, bi main characters) romance short story! (You don’t need to have read it first, I promise!) That short story, “Sorceress,” had a villain, or at least a Reckless and Problematic Magician, that required our sorceress to deal with—I always knew the sequel would be his story, and I even wrote two scenes of it back then, both of which are still in the final version, almost word for word. (One’s about halfway through, about true faces and magic. One’s the conversation near the end, about their future.) And then things got busy, and other stories wanted to be written…but then it woke back up, this past year. Loudly, too, shouting about optimism and hope and second chances.

So, a decade later, here it is. I hope you enjoy it—I loved writing it, and seeing Gareth and Lorre find what they want, and each other, and a happy ending, at last.

Here are some purchase links, and an opening excerpt!

Buy links:

JMS Books :: Amazon

Opening Excerpt:

The world’s greatest living magician, lying on his back on a rocky ledge halfway up a cliff and bathed in sunshine, felt the boat’s arrival on the island shore below like an uninvited knock at a private door. He did not enjoy it.

He didn’t move for a moment. He did not feel like it, and there’d be no rush. Nobody’d get past his wards.

He kept both eyes closed. Sun streaked red behind his eyelids; gold warmed his skin, his hair. His body soaked in the sensations of strong heated stone, sank into stone, became stone: learning how the rock felt when bathed in lush late-morning light. His edges blurred, softened: time slowed, thrummed, grew earthen and deep, salt-lapped and wind-etched. He might’ve been here for centuries, unhurried. Equilibrium and erosion, solidity and reshaping: a balance.

He had needed balance. Something he’d thought he’d known, once. Something he no longer understood.

He’d thought the island might help. Being rock for a while, or the wind, or the seaspray: being suspended amid them all. Being alone, because he was not sure he recalled how to be human, not well enough.

The island was warm—Lorre had always shamelessly adored being warm—and far enough from the mainland that he’d been mostly undisturbed, and close enough to trade routes that he could occasionally walk on water out to a boat and barter some repairs or some healing for some news of the Middle Lands and King Henry’s court at Averene and the Grand Sorceress Liliana. Lorre had promised not to magically check in on Lily or their daughter; he was attempting to keep that promise.

Equilibrium. Difficult. Sunlight was easier. Sunbeams were weightless. Stones did not have to think about human promises. Human perceptions.

The knock came again. It was not physical, or not entirely. It was a presence, an unexpected intruder standing below, shuffling feet in the sand and no doubt wondering where precisely a magician could be found, being faced with a towering blank cliff and no visible habitation.

Lorre sighed, pulled himself back from frayed edges and heavy sleepy light, and sat up, pulling a robe on in an unfussy tumble of blue and gold, mostly just because he liked the caress of silky fabric on bare skin. His senses shifted, dwindled: more human, though not entirely. He’d been a magician too long to not feel the threads of brilliance—cliff, vines, fish, grains of sand, sea-glass polished by waves—all around.

He peeked over the side of the ledge. Behind him the cave yawned lazily, reminding him of sanctuary: he could simply walk back inside, the way he had for several years now, and ignore the new arrival. That generally worked.

He was rather surprised someone’d found him at all. He wasn’t exactly hiding—oh yes you are, said a tart little voice in his head, one that sounded like Lily’s—but the island, after a bit of work on his part, nearly always concealed itself from maps and navigation charts. At the beginning a few enterprising adventurers had managed to track it down, young heroes on quests or proving their worth by daring an enchanter’s lair or begging for Lorre’s assistance in some revenge or inheritance or magical artifact retrieval scheme.

He’d ignored all but two of them. The illusion-wall kept everyone out, simple and baffling; the island had fresh water but little in the way of food. Mostly the adventurers’d given up and gone home, years ago; he couldn’t in fact recall the face of the last one. Two had become nuisances, loud and shouting; one of those had actually threatened to drink poison, melodramatically demanding Lorre’s assistance in collecting a promised bride from a glass mountain, claiming he’d die without her.

The young man currently standing on the beach was neither loud nor melodramatic. In fact, he was calmly considering the sheer cliff-face, which revealed nothing; he stepped back across the small curve of beach, shaded his eyes, seemed to be measuring. After a second he put a hand up, obviously checking the edge of the cliff: having noticed the very slight discrepancy where sea-birds dropped behind the illusion-wall a fraction sooner than they should vanish in reality.

Intelligent, this one. Lorre dangled himself over the ledge at an angle which would’ve been dangerous for anyone else, and watched.

The young man had dark reddish-brown hair, the color of autumn; he wore it tied back, though a few wisps were escaping. He’d dressed for travel, not in shiny armor the way some knights and princes had: sturdy boots and comfortable trousers, a shirt in nicely woven but also practical fabric, a well-worn pack which he’d swung down to the sand. He wasn’t particularly tall, but not short: average, with nicely shaped shoulders and an air of straightforward competence, not trying for impressive or intimidating.

Lorre, despite annoyance at the interruption, couldn’t help but approve. At least this one had some sense, and didn’t walk around clanking in metal under the shimmering sun.

The young man called up, “Hello?” His voice was quite nice as well, not demanding, lightly accented with the burr of the Mountain Marches but in the way of someone who’d been carefully sent to the best schools down South. “Grand Sorcerer?”

Lorre mentally snorted. He didn’t have a proper title, not any longer; if anyone did, it’d be Lily. His former lover, now wife of the brother of the King of Averene, was by default the last Grand Sorceress of the Middle Lands; she’d started up the old magician’s school again, welcoming and training apprentices. Lily always had been better with people. Lorre was not precisely welcome in Averene.

The young man said mildly, “I expect this is a test; I thought you would do that, you know,” as if he thought that Lorre might answer, as if they were having a conversation; and looked around. “I’m meant to find you, is that it?”

That was the opposite of it. Lorre on a good day barely recalled how to be human, and certainly wasn’t fit to interact with them. He’d lost his temper with the melodramatic poison-carrying prince, strolled invisibly onto the shore, asked the poison to turn itself into a sleeping draught, and then poured it into the idiot’s water flask. Then he’d found a passing ship and dumped the snoring body onto its deck. He hadn’t known the destination, and hadn’t bothered to find out.

His current young man was looking at driftwood. Lorre wondered why. He was getting a bit dizzy from leaning nearly upside down; he considered the sensation with some surprise. A swoop of gold swung into his eyes, distracting and momentarily baffling; he pushed the strands of his hair back with magic.

The young man found a stick, one that evidently met his standards for length and strength. He kept it in front of himself; he walked deliberately toward the cliff, and the illusion.

Oh. Clever. Avoiding traps. Testing a theory. Lorre found himself impressed, particularly when the young man watched the tip of the driftwood vanish and nodded to himself and then set rocks down to neatly mark the spot.

The island was not large, and the beach even smaller: a jut of cliff, a tangle of vines, a small lagoon and a trickle of water down to the shore. The illusion hid the cave-opening, but there wasn’t really anywhere else for someone to be; the young man figured that out within an hour or so of methodical exploration, and returned to the shore, and looked thoughtfully at the cliffs. He’d rolled up his sleeves and undone the ties of his shirt, given the heat; he had a vine-leaf in his hair, along with a hint of sweat.

Lorre, in some ways still very much human, couldn’t not stare. Something about those forearms under rolled-up sleeves. That hint of well-muscled chest. The casual ripple of motion, broad shoulders, heroic thighs.

I suppose,” the young man said, very wry, still looking at the cliff as if perfectly aware Lorre was watching, “I should introduce myself. I think I forgot to, earlier.”

I suppose you should, Lorre agreed silently. Since you’re here. Disrupting my life.

He ignored the fact that he’d had no real plans. Meditation. Quiet. A hope for calm.

A hint of dragon-fire slid through his veins, under his skin. A memory. Restless. Beckoning. Dangerous.

Blurb:

magician

A magician in need of redemption. A loyal hero on a quest. And only one bed at the inn.

Once the world’s most legendary sorcerer, Lorre fled the Middle Lands after his own curiosity — and a misguided transformation spell—turned him into a dragon and nearly killed a king. He isn’t a dragon anymore, but he is hiding alone on a tropical island, avoiding people, politics, and his own reputation.

But now a hero has found him. And not just any hero. Prince Gareth’s full of patience, intelligence, a kind heart…and unfairly attractive muscles. And he needs Lorre’s help: his tiny mountain kingdom is under attack from ice magic, and Gareth hopes the world’s last great magician will save his people.

Lorre’s very much done with quests and princes and trying to change the world. But Gareth might tempt him to believe again…in heroes, in himself, and in magic.

Author Bio:

K.L. Noone employs her academic research for writing romance, usually LGBTQ+ and often paranormal, fantasy, or historical! Her full-length romance novels include the Character Bleed trilogy (Seaworthy, Stalwart, and Steadfast), Cadence and the Pearl, and A Demon for Midwinter, available from JMS Books, and A Prophecy for Two, available from Inkshares. She’s also the author of multiple romance novellas and short stories with JMS Books, and previously with Less Than Three Press, Circlet Press, and Ellora’s Cave. Her non-romance fantasy fiction has appeared in Marion Zimmer Bradley’s Sword and Sorceress and the magazine Aoife’s Kiss.

With the Professor Hat on, she’s published scholarly work on romance, fantasy, and folklore, including a book on Welsh mythology in popular culture and a book on ethics in Terry Pratchett’s fantasy. She is happily bisexual, married to the marvelous Awesome Husband, and currently owned by a long-legged black cat named Merlyn.

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