Don't Diss a Decade!

(as seen on Lady Scribes today)

Whenever ‘outsiders’ ask about what period my historical romances are set in, they are always fascinated to learn that the Regency was such a short period of time. “Only 1811 to 1820? What makes such a short span of time so special?”

And I have to admit, I am tempted to respond:

What makes a ten year span of time so special? Look at it this way. I am a child of the eighties. I lived in the last great era before cell phones came on the scene, or even call waiting. I knew my parents wanted me home because the sun touched the horizon—not because I got a text.

My days were filled with CareBears, My Little Pony, and She-Ra. I traded Garbage Pail Kid cards and friendship bracelets, listened to New Kids on the Block and wore enough neon to light a skating rink. And I did—light a skating rink, that is. I rocked the side ponytail and teased my bangs to stand straight up on end.

I can, to this day, recite every word of Ice, Ice, Baby, and can pull a Hammer Time like nobody’s business. I thought my brother was the coolest person ever for wearing parachute pants—not that I would have EVER told him as much. 

I cried at ET, stared in wide-eyed wonder at The Goonies (STILL want to go down that water slide into the cavern that held the pirate ship!), and nodded sagely at the wisdom of wax on, wax off. I lived for the trips to my grandparents, where their magical cable box tuned into the glory of MTV, and the Dukes of Hazard came through with crystal clear clarity. 

I can clearly recall the moment my father brought home the Atari, then later the VCR, and greatest of all, the Nintendo. To this day, I will go into 10 year old game addict mode when I hear the Super Mario Brothers theme song.  Back then, if you had a monstrous big screen TV—and the living room space to dedicate to it—you had made it in life.

Neon, scrunchie, & a hoola hoop? I am awesome!

As a child of the eighties, I still wonder who shot JR (I was way too young to watch the show, and no one ever told me!), where’s the beef, and where the heck Waldo got off to. I do, however, know exactly what Willis was talking about, and how to walk like an Egyptian (on roller skates – how rad is that?)

So, as far as I’m concerned, it’s easy to see how a decade can be a Big Deal. A lot can happen in that short amount of time—just look at the thousands of books that have been set in that golden moment in history. When manners were king, the prince regent had a taste for decadence, and the waltz was nearly as scandalous as it was titillating.  The tensions with France gave rise to the possibility of sexy spies and deadly intrigue, and provided endless possibilities for tortured war heroes returning home. It was Britain in its heyday, with opulence like we can hardly imagine—glittering balls, gorgeous gowns, sporty conveyances, and just enough darkened alcoves to get into a bit trouble.

So what do you think—can a decade make all the difference?  Which decade do you consider ‘home’ – either in real life, or in your reading preference?

And on a side note, if you are a fan of the magical time that was the Regency, I hope you'll check out my Christmas novella, Miss Mistletoe, which goes on sale on election day! If you ask me, there will be no better day to escape into a fun, happy read ;)  

Finn, Viscount Edgerton, has avoided the London scene to focus solely on digging out from under the pile of debt his father left behind. A decent dowry could make things a hell of a lot easier for the estate, but he hasn’t met the right woman. And he never would have expected her to come in the form of “Miss Mistletoe”—the young woman who stole a kiss at a ball in front of the ton and caused a scandal.

On the eve of her cousin’s wedding, Cece McCrea hardly expects to run into the man who inspired her indiscretion five years ago. This time, she resolves to put aside her childish crush and avoid him altogether. Her will is tested, however, when he pursues her….