Yesterday was the most perfect day. It should be Autumn but in fact it felt like early summer. Warm enough for rolled up jeans and short-sleeves. It would have been the hardest thing in the world to sit in the house with the laptop, reading through the track changes suggested by the editor. So of course I didn’t do it.
I am trying so hard to motivate self to click on my writing file and begin to re-read as much as I have written of The Shifu Cloth. The trouble is that I have a velvety voice in my ear right now. He’s telling me the story of Venetia and I am hard-put to think that reading my own un-edited prose would be better.
The idea of holding a blog event would have sounded quite odd to me twelve months ago. 
That long ago I was only just coming to terms with Facebook and LinkedIn, followed by the dreaded 140 characters of Twitter. But on the lookout for ways in which to reach a readership, I came across ‘how to make a book-trailer’ on Nathan Bransford’s blog. Of course I couldn’t on my own, because technology and I don’t speak in the same language and so my brother (who runs a production house) did it to my brief. After that I felt ‘challenge’ biting at my heels and on reading all my favourite historical fiction blogs, came across the amaaaaazzzing vvb32 who seems to run brilliant events on a weekly basis.
‘De Fleury!’
Percy’s shout cut through the mood of the tango, creating a tension that vibrated like a viola string. The music faded and people turned. Percy stood at the far end of the ballroom, his evening dress immaculate, dark and elegant and complete with a white jabot that frothed and creamed at his throat. His hands were behind his back and he was statue-like, one foot forward, the buckles on his shoes shining. I could see Marguarite with Bacigalupo, virtually in the position they had been as the tango bent her back and Bacigalupo lay over her, vulpine, almost salivating. She pushed at him, her eyes on Percy.
‘Excellencies, Honoured Guests, ladies and gentlemen . . . and charming Others of course,’ the Direttore’s lips gave that curious twist that was a contained smile and so very much his signature.
We are rapidly approaching the night of the famed Veniche Masked Ball and whilst some of the guests know the canal state well, there are those who have never been to Veniche and who barely know the world of Eirie as we know it. Just for a moment let me be your travel guide and take you on a journey that will give you an idea of where you shall be spending this glittering night.
Rebecca’s next chapter:
“Annabelle, my dear, how charming to see you again.” Sarina sank gracefully into a beautifully polished bergère covered in straw colored satin. Following her into the room, a footman deposited her package on a nearby table.
A quick post with an enticement to talk!
As we get the pre-ball notifications and nonsense under way, we invite you to click on the Masked Ball tab at the top of Mesmered’s home page and read away. We also want you to leave all coyness at the door and comment as much as possible prior to, through and after the Ball. The programme (subject to moving faster or slower as the case demands) will be posted for your edification in two days. Our stomachs are fluttering with excitement. I may need smelling salts as Mesmered, but as Lucia Brabante, writer and lover of Ser Niccolo de Fleury, I am fearless. Can’t speak for my co-conspirators!
Scribbler59’s entry in the backstory competition: read on and enjoy the romp!
“But, Marsie, it’s The Must Have Invitation of the Year,” I pouted. “And I toiled to persuade the Direttore of the Museo di Veniche to grant me an invitation … for the two of us, of course,” I added quickly as I squeezed close on the loveseat and caressed a lock of his blonde hair off his furrowed brow.
I am quite over the dramas of the moment. I am sick and tired of my heart flipping back and forth like a fish on the hook every time the door opens. I am seeking out Parthenope and Sarina because when we are together the three of us, we have many laughs and besides I want their advice on my gown. My dressmaker has completed it and it is divine. I was a little concerned that the white wouldn’t become me, but as my hair is chestnut coloured and my maid has streaked it with lemon juice to provide highlights, I am confident that this at least, I can pull off. As to the confidence of having de Fleury as my partner and having Blakeney stalking him like a hunter stalks deer . . . well that is a whole other thing.
