A Castle was a (Noble)Man’s (and Woman’s) Home (Medieval Mondays #3a)

Remnants of the keep and curtain wall of Peveril Castle in Derbyshire, England

Remnants of the keep and curtain wall of Peveril Castle in Derbyshire, England

As a child, I used to like drawing pictures of medieval castles.

These drawings always took a similar form: a large square in the middle of the paper, two taller turrets on either side, and a wall that extended the remaining length of the page on either side.  I even owned a stencil that had a guide for making square waves that I used on the upper edges of each part of the picture.

For a frontal, ground level representation by an eight-year-old, I actually think I did pretty well, having depicted the three key components of the average medieval English castle: the keep, the tower, and the curtain wall.

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Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner in the Middle Ages? (Medieval Mondays #2c)

Dinner scene from the Luttrell Psalter (c.1320-1340, Lincolnshire, England)

Dinner scene from the Luttrell Psalter (c.1320-1340, Lincolnshire, England)

I first began this series on medieval food by questioning what sort of experience one would have if transported back in time to a 13th century dinner table.

The time has now come to take a seat at said table and finish finding out.

The very first point of difference one might encounter relates to the time of day “dinner” was actually served.  One might expect that turning up anywhere between 6:00 and 8:00pm as is common for modern dinners (particularly in North America) would also apply to the 13th century.

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How I’m Spending My Summer, 2015 Edition

It’s that time of year again.

Summer is the best season there is.  This may be my personal opinion on the matter, but I do believe there’s some degree of universal truth to it as well: the weather is warm, the days are long, people are friendlier and happier, and the clothing is less encumbering.

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Medieval Meals Made Not-So-Easy (Medieval Mondays #2b)

Cooking scene from the Luttrell Psalter (c.1320-1340)

Cooking scene from the Luttrell Psalter (c.1320-1340, Lincolnshire, England)

In the medieval times, our modern emphasis on easy, speedy meals would’ve been an inconceivably foreign concept to a noble family.

In my previous post on medieval food, I discussed the raw ingredients that comprised medieval cookery.

In turning now to discuss how that cookery was done and what recipes often resulted, a key point made by Margaret Wade Labarge, author of Mistress, Maids and Men: Baronial Life in the Thirteenth Century, is as follows:

The medieval baron liked a complicated and highly seasoned dish. (p.118).

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What’s On the Menu in the Middle Ages? (Medieval Mondays #2a)

Kitchen scene from the Luttrell Psalter (c.1320-40)

Kitchen scene from the Luttrell Psalter (c.1320-1340, Lincolnshire, England)

If you were magically transported back to early 13th century England and invited to dinner in a noble household, what sort of experience would await you?

An experience so different, it will be the subject of three separate posts in this blog series, the first of which (today’s) focuses on the raw ingredients of medieval cuisine.

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Clothing Made the Medieval Man, Woman & Child (Medieval Mondays #1)

Three versions of Maid Marion (a 13th century character), of which the fox's outfit comes closest.

Three versions of Maid Marian (a 13th century character associated with Robin Hood), of which the more authentic outfit is that of the fox.

If there’s one aspect of medieval history I love most, it’s the clothing, especially women’s clothing.

The clothing, incidentally, is one of the aspects Hollywood most often get wrong.

Typically, this occurs through clothing styles from one century being mis-attributing to another.  This despite what author Mary G. Houston writes in Medieval Costume in England and France: The 13th, 14th and 15th Centuries:

What can be more diverse than the noble simplicity of construction and natural silhouette of the thirteenth century, compared with the slender elegance of the fourteenth, and the riot of variety and exaggeration in the fifteenth century. (pp. v-vi)

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Is Writing What You Know Holding You Back?

Cracked earth lightbulb

How the hell did “write what you know become” the most opt-repeated piece of writing advice anyway?

Maybe it’s because it’s the first advice many of us ever received.  Certainly it seems like it should be beginner advice.

I can see it perfectly: a student of sixteen or seventeen hunched over his/her desk at school, pencil in hand poised above a sheet of three-hole-punched, lined loose leaf.

(Am I totally dating myself with this memory in longhand?  Do high school students even write by hand  in school anymore?  The pencil in this vision isn’t even mechanical).

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On the Responsibility of Writers

What responsibility, if any, does a writer have to society?

This was the question I posted to the message board of the writer’s group I run to be the discussion topic for our next meeting.

I knew at the time of writing it that it was a provocative question – one that different people might interpret in different ways.  Regardless, I was sure it would result in a lively, interesting discussion as my writer’s group meetings always are.

What I didn’t expect, however, was the overwrought response on the message board from an out-of-nowhere, aggrieved and impassioned troll.

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How I’m Spending My Summer

Summer

No, it doesn’t involve an awesome vacation, but more on that in a bit.

I’m having a “working summer” this year. This isn’t unlike how I often have “working weekends”, during which I get caught up on all the errands, chores, and other adult-life necessaries I didn’t do during the week because I was busy writing.

Full-time jobs are hell on both writing time and fun, relaxing weekend time, though I guess we all need to suffer a bit for our art.

But I’ve currently got some BIG tasks that need doing.

Hence the working summer.

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In Case of Fire, Save Writing!

In case of fire

A few weekends ago, on a rainy Saturday afternoon, the fire alarm rang in my apartment.

I was dressed typically for me on a rainy Saturday, which is a step up from still being in my pajamas, although an admittedly small step.

In this case: fleece pants, a faded tank top, and merino wool lumberjack socks, with my hair, inasmuch as my dreads are always “done” since they don’t really change, hanging lank down my back from an earlier shower rather than pulled back or pinned up as I normally wear it.

Needless to say, I hadn’t been planning to go outside anytime soon, let alone to stand huddled amongst my neighbours while my building potentially burned to the ground.

And my building has had a fire in during the time I’ve lived here … the very night I moved in, no less.

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