View of Belvedere Castle photographed in Central Park. Can’t you imagine the Lady of Shalott floating by on her way to Camelot? Extra points to those who can name the reference in the blog title.
Words to mull: this fortune was given me at a recent benefit for the Millay Colony for the Arts.
Thanks to everyone who participated and left such nice comments on my recent interview with novelist Jennifer Laam! Without further ado, the winner of the autographed copy of Jennifer’s THE SECRET DAUGHTER OF THE TSAR is….
Congratulations to Christi Craig! I’ve just sent you an email with information on how to claim your prize. I know you’re going to enjoy it!
For more information about THE SECRET DAUGHTER OF THE TSAR, Jennifer Laam’s official author site offers excerpts, reviews, and information about the historical events inspiring her novel. She can also be found online at Twitter, Facebook, Goodreads, and Pinterest.
Photographed recently at the American Wing of the Metropolitan Museum in New York City.
In other news, tomorrow marks your last chance to enter our book giveaway for Jennifer Laam’s fabulous new novel THE SECRET DAUGHTER OF THE TSAR. In it, Jennifer seamlessly braids together the stories of three women: Veronica, Lena, and Charlotte, and imagines an alternate history for the Romanov family—one in which a secret fifth daughter, smuggled out of Russia before the revolution, continues the royal lineage to dramatic and unexpected consequences.Learn more here.
With all my post-Salt Cay Writers Retreat frenzy of revision, I totally forgot that last Sunday was the first Sunday of the month, which is when I should have posted my Snippet Sunday for November. Time to make amends! Just in case you’ve missed previous months, here’s the deal: Snippet Sunday is a monthly meme organized by Stephanie Dray in which authors post six sentence snippets of their novels. You can read my previous snippets here.
The blue-tiled room we stepped into was perhaps the most peculiar place I’d ever seen. It was empty of all furniture except for an elaborately carved teak cabinet that took up the whole of one wall. Set within it was a gold cloisonné vase the height of a small child. There wasn’t anyplace to sit save for some beaded cushions, but one would have to lounge like a pasha. As for the room’s occupants, several clusters of expensively dressed ladies stared at us, their gentleman companions trailing them like shadows. Compared to myself and Mrs. Dulac’s aesthetic-style gowns, these women looked like upholstered sofas, draped and padded from their generous bustles to their ruched bodices.