Category Archives: MY PODCAST

Blog episodes in conjuction with my podcast now available on Spotify, ITunes, and more!

A SOUTHERN GIRL WHOSE BRITISH ROOTS ARE SHOWING

So, this is a blog post I’ve been wanting to write for some time (and a podcast episode) and now that I am back on a roll with my postings, I thought, well, here it goes.

I mentioned a few days ago in a podcast episode that I did about who I am, the episode titled “Who’s the Chick?”, that I’ve been a huge Anglophile since I was very young.

That being said, I am now ready to admit that I used a large portion of my life defiantly wanting to ignore my Southern roots. Before you go off on a tangent and blast me for that, let me explain . . . let me do some ‘splainin’.

I don’t know if any of you are like me but my obsession with all things British had me craving to live there, speak with the accent, decorate my home in Georgia in a Tudor style, and read as many historical fiction books about England that I could possible absorb. I’ve taken three trips to Britain over the years and I cannot deny the overwhelming feeling that I belonged, somehow. I truly felt that the desire was more than an obsession. I felt at home walking down the streets of Windsor or Stratford or London, or riding the train to Salisbury, or simply sitting in Hyde Park to relax. I definitely could be an expatriate living in the UK.

I think of how Robert Browning felt in his poem “Home Thoughts, From Abroad”, even though he spoke of his homeland, the words resonate with me.

Oh, to be in England
Now that April’s there,
And whoever wakes in England
Sees, some morning, unaware,
That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf
Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf,
While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough
In England—now!

I think that is why I started writing historical fiction since I already read about Britain all the time, the next step made perfect sense. After all, writing and reading is an escape from our life (which I use to the fullest sense in my new novel awaiting publication – Kingfisher – which tells the life of a bibliophile obsessed with another time and place).

That being said, I must confess I have spent many years heckled by my husband over my desire that people not know of my Southern roots. Honestly, I hated my drawl, LOL, and I hated living in the South, which I know will cause all kinds of comments and opinions.

But before anyone says anything, this post is about my finally coming to terms and feeling comfortable about where I live and how I sound. I even created a podcast using my own voice so people can get to know the real me. A little bit of a disclaimer here: I used an actresses’ voice on a few opening podcast episodes just so I could get comfortable with the new medium and to see how podcasting works. From now on, you will hear me, the real me, without any filters or British inflections. In other words, I won’t talk like Jersey-born Madonna living in the UK and adopting a slight British speak.

The closest I ever got to that is a game my kids and I played. Sometimes when we were shopping, I would say ‘OK, today is talk like a Brit day’ and we would have to go around pretending we were British for the entire day. It was fun and I think with my Southern-twang accounts for some of the strange looks I received sometimes.

That used to bother me, now, however, I suppose due to age or resignation, I fully embrace my Southern heritage, my voice and where I live. I have written one historical book about my area called “Child of Love & Water” which involves the 18th-century history of Jekyll Island Georgia, but that is about as far as I’ve gone in writing about my home. I know they say that writers should write what they know, and perhaps I might one day, but while I am acknowledging and accepting my Southernness, I am not going to abandon those British roots that show ever day in who I am as a person and as a writer. After all, I really do have British roots, my family ancestry is from Wales and Scotland with very British surnames such as Jones, Talley, Wall, Wynn, and Wauchope.

Those early days of six and seven when I obsessively played the Beatles over and over again started me on the path of who I am. I was Alice in Wonderland then, and I am still her today.

So, here is my confession and my all-embracing post about being a true Southern girl with British roots. Yes, I talk with a twang, and yes, I love Britain. I hope you enjoy the combination!!

Curious Opinion about Writing Historical Fiction – What Do You Think?

Summary

So many people have opinions about writing historical fiction. Another blogger shared her view which swept across the historical fiction boards and groups I am a part of, and made me curious . . . what do you think?

This episode is also available as a blog post: https://histficchickie.com/2020/12/01/curious-opinion-about-writing-historical-fiction-what-do-you-think/

Transcription

BOOK REVIEW – HISTORICAL STORIES OF BETRAYAL

First and foremost, I must say I am privileged to know many of these phenomenal historical fiction authors and have shared and re-shared Twitter and FB posts for many years now. But knowing someone through social media and reading their words is quite a different experience.

In reading “Historical Stories of Betrayal” and noting the different aspects in style and voice, I truly hear their passion and soul in the stories.

This is a book not to be missed! Here you are given a sampling of short stories and excerpts spanning the globe from ancient Rome to the Tower of London; and through the eras from the 5th-century to the 19th-century – all with one basic premise known throughout time: BETRAYAL.

I do have my favourites among the twelve stories, all having to do with my own insatiable appetite for particular eras and locales, but for the sake of this review, I must say – each and every story is a pearl in this luscious historical jewelled necklace. You will not be disappointed and I highly recommend not only reading the short stories and excerpts of these authors, but grabbing up their novels, as well.

Here is the link to buy:

Quintessence of Dust

Sometimes as a writer the creative juices usually flowing onto the page are dammed by the realities of the world around you. Ambition and creativity sometimes suffer in this way when an artist of any form cannot function unless words or paint or music is flowing without the weight of problems around them. This makes me think of the character Hamlet, who for all his faults and cowardice, possessed a stilted ambition because of the happenings within the walls of Elsinore. Hamlet was a brilliant mind, a man of words who found himself imprisoned within Denmark through no fault of his own except his own need for creativity to reveal his father’s murderer instead of simply peaking up. Thus, does the character reveal a little something about the man who wrote the play? Perhaps, Shakespeare, as well, struggled with life as a writer and actor. Speaking as a writer myself, we live in a world of make-believe, a world of our own creation, and sometimes because of the world’s we create, the attention to detail and human suffering, our eyes appear more opened to the problems of the world around us.

     I don’t know, perhaps it is a curse of creativity. We are mere humans crawling between earth and heaven, striving for the clouds, ambitious creatures seeking fulfillment on a page and acceptance from the world; a world, in truth, that doesn’t care and can pass you by unless you are one of the fortunate ones, the one-in-a-million lottery-hitting authors who snag a huge contract with a big well-known publisher. Yet, even then, yes, even then, does that guarantee happiness and fulfillment?

     For some, I suppose so; yet, we have so many examples of those for whom success did not give them completion. Virginia Woolf clamored for something outside of herself, something that words could not fill. When I look into her sad eyes, I see myself; yet different, because I do cherish life, yet I understand the darkness she carried. She owned the sadness of the world that she carried like a grain sack on her shoulders and ultimately, weighed her down in those waters where she took her life. Hemingway, Rembrandt, Van Gogh, Kahlo, Sexton, all found solace in silence instead of the healing power of words and paint.

     There are times I can relate. I refer to the note written by Hunter S. Thompson, author of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, where he said, “No More Games. No More Bombs. No More Walking. No More Fun. No More Swimming. 67. That is 17 years past 50. 17 more than I needed or wanted. Boring. I am always bitchy. No Fun — for anybody. 67. You are getting Greedy. Act your old age. Relax — This won’t hurt.”

     Sometimes when you get to the point where you are facing mortality because of middle-age, you do become greedy, or ambitious, for more. And as a writer, especially a writer who has not seen success for the very thing you have strived for your entire life, there is a certain amount of vanity, disappointment and boredom that comes along with the weight of watching the world around you. A creative mind always wants more, more, more. Even for those successful, something lacks in their success. My personal feelings is that those of us of that nature, who find we cannot wake without thinking of words, are looking for a perfection that will never come, and when we finally come to that realization, we either take our own life or we settle into a creative retirement in which we find that the world is not worthy of what we have to say. Many authors disgusted with the world and the politics of publishing slip into a void of anonymity; ‘Bound in a nutshell’ and declaring themselves ‘the kings of infinite space.’

     I find myself greedy for words at this stage in my life, and as I am determined to not travel the path of Virginia, yet I wrestle with the idea of seclusion. Who of us has not considered this? Who of us, this quintessence of dust, has not struggled striving to reach a far off dream? Gloomy words for this wordy passage and this passage of life. Forgive me for these words, but they are the most valuable thing I possess and the only thing I have to share; if anyone is interested.

D. K. Marley

Book Review – “The Violinist of Auschwitz” by Ellie Midwood

RELEASE DATE: November 18, 2020

Is it possible to give a book ten stars? If so, this is one!!

Ellie Midwood is an expert wordsmith and brilliant storyteller. This story is a sumptuous feast of words amid the starving and bleak setting of Auschwitz, and she contrasts her main character’s angelic artistic abilities against the dark demonic depravity of the SS, especially when she introduces the characters such as Mengele, the notorious Doctor of Death.

Without giving too much away, since I am already telling the reader of this review to get this book as soon as possible for your next read, I will highlight some of my favorites lines – lines that broke my heart. I was immersed from the first paragraph and by chapter five, I was in tears. The tears never left and I read this in one sitting, not from the ease of the read, but from the sheer inability to put it down.

So many lines stood out for me, such as: “Hatred aged them just as fast as suffering aged their victims. Alma thought it to be a form of poetic justice.” or “Sensitivity doesn’t live long here. Sensitivity gets people killed.” or “Alma stepped outside the warehouse, a pillowcase bursting at the seams with dead people’s belongings, the bright August sun spilled its golden light onto her with astonishing insolence.” or, oh my, I could go on and on. This novel lacks nothing in the availability of highlighter-worthy passages and sentences – ones I will certainly go back and read again and again.

The immense skill of showing the contrast between the light airy beautiful music from a violin against the stark gruesome darkness of the realities of Auschwitz proved Ellie Midwood’s genius as a writer. Within one novel, she captured the essence of hope and despair, of life and death, of humanity and inhumanity, and of the sheer will and strength this incredible woman showed in the face of utter deplorable insanity.

Bravo, Ellie, Bravo! Your name is now added to my favourite author’s list!!

(This book review will be permanently posted on my “Nest of the Best” page!!)

Chickie’s Writing Tips #1

I am at a loss for words, and here I sit trying to write a post for this blog. I mean, I’m not really at a loss for words but you know how it goes when something moves you beyond anything you hoped for and you are dying to tell someone. That is where I am at after attending an online Zoom workshop from Free Expressions Seminars and Literary Services by Donald Maass and Lorin Oberweger.

I knew it, of course, that it would be exactly what I needed to bump up my writing for my new work-in-progress; after all, I attended a 10-day workshop over 14 years ago where Lorin was one of the instructors. The experience and the knowledge gained resonates even to this day.

So, I determined that this topic is the very first in my “Chickie’s Writing Tips”. As a writer we often do not do very many things for ourselves except sit in a room alone and type away at the keys to bring our story to life, maybe sipping our favorite coffee or tea with a pup or kitten at our feet. We push ourselves to flesh out the characters and scenes in our head like some Dr Frankenstein pulling the handle and praying a jolt of electricity will bring it all to life. What I have found is that sometimes that jolt comes in the form of a well-renowned workshop where you immerse yourself in learning before writing, or during your writing.

I say, well-renowned, since I have heard of workshops that just do not deliver and left some of their patrons feeling deflated about their prospects of being a writer; but, if you attend one under the tutelage of some high-profile names in the industry, I think it is a safe bet that you will come from that classroom refreshed and electrified.

Free Expressions offers online workshops via Zoom at the moment because of the Covid-19 pandemic known as the Weekly Writing Webinars, but in normal circumstances supports in-person workshops such as “The Breakout Novel Intensive” by Donald Maass and the “Boni Graduate Learning Retreat”, as well as the “Wake Up & Write Writer’s Retreat Workshop” (the one I attended in 2006). At Free Expressions, they even offer a two-year Story Lab that you can apply for where they help you bring your novel from idea to finished and revised draft, with a view toward big five publication! Ooo, if only my ship was approaching the dock . . . right? Still, if you can afford it, then why not do it for yourself and for the stories begging to be told? I know I would if I could, in a heartbeat!!

So, what do you learn? Well, let me give you an example. Yesterday, I listened to the workshop called “Emotional Tipping Points” given by Mr Maass since I was struggling to push my characters further in the story. Well, I shouldn’t say struggling, I actually need to say I knew there was more there and needed a little jolt to breathe some life into them. The workshop delivered more than what I needed. In just two and a half hours, Mr Maass was able to ask enough questions of me and my characters to flesh them out, as if he reached inside my protagonist’s heart and resuscitated her. Just in the first chapter alone, I discovered ways of turning up the emotional impact for the reader, after all, isn’t that what we are trying to do for them? If a reader cannot connect with your characters, especially with your main character, then how long will they stay with the story? Or even want to read another one of your stories?

I’d love to share some of his questions, but that sort of spoils the fun of the experience, does it not? My advice is to check it out for yourself. This one workshop was only $39, but you can get the whole series for $399.00! A steal!!

So, this is my writing tip #1 – do something for yourself as a writer, sign up for a workshop, and not just any workshop – get the best. To me, the best by far is the ones I mentioned above. You will never regret the investment in yourself and your career as a writer.

Where to sign up?

https://www.free-expressions.com/

Who they are?

Donald Maass founded the Donald Maass Literary Agency in New York in 1980. He is the author of The Career Novelist (1996),Writing the Breakout Novel (2001), Writing the Breakout Novel Workbook (2004), The Fire in Fiction (2009), The Breakout Novelist (2011), Writing 21st Century Fiction (2012) and The Emotional Craft of Fiction (2019).  He is a past president of the Association of Authors’ Representatives, Inc.

Lorin Oberweger is a highly sought-after independent book editor and ghostwriter with almost twenty-five years experience in publishing. Her company, Free Expressions, offers intensive, deep craft workshops nationwide. She’s also known for her one-on-one story mastermind session for writers of all genres of fiction and creative nonfiction.

Lorin’s students and clients have millions of books in print and have been published by HarperCollins, Penguin Random House, Scholastic, Simon and Schuster, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, Disney, and many other presses. They have also gained representation with some of the industry’s leading literary agents.

An award-winning author, Lorin has co-written and ghostwritten eight books, several for New York Times bestselling authors of fiction and nonfiction. Her work, commissioned by major publishers, has received glowing notices from the New York Times, Kirkus Reviews, NPR, and others.

With bestselling author Veronica Rossi, Lorin is the author of the New Adult books, BOOMERANG, REBOUND, and BOUNCE, published by Harper/William Morrow under the pen name Noelle August.  The novels were praised by Publishers Weekly and Library Journal, among others, and BOOMERANG was chosen as a “new and notable” selection for Target Stores across the US.

Kindness is Magic

While this doesn’t pertain to historical fiction, it did happen to a historical fiction author – me, and I just had to share.

With this year, the infamous 2020, we can expect anything to happen and so far, this late in the year, it has all been bad. I have heard the stories through the years of people doing amazing things for others, such as, paying for the person behind you while in line in a drive-thru or the guy on Tik Tok who walked up and paid for everybody in line at Wal-mart; but, as of yet, or I should say, as of today, it had never happened to me.

Over the past few months, I’ve tried myself in small ways. Since we have not been able to go far from our house, my granddaughter and I decided to make pies for our neighbors with a small little note to tell them we were thinking of them and hoped they were all right. On our street, that entails about four houses that we left the care package on their door.

But today, out of the blue, my husband and I decided to have a “date day” and go eat breakfast at a local eatery that is doing very well in social distancing and sanitizing. While sitting there for about fifteen minutes after ordering and just chit-chatting, a young woman sitting all by herself darted by our table and laid something on the napkin in front of me. I looked down, then back up at her as she smiled, waved, and said, “Enjoy your meal!!”

Needless to say, we were both shocked and pleasantly surprised at this small act of kindness from a stranger. She left some money for our meal on the table. I immediately got up and tracked her down at the cash register, my heart full, and when she saw me, she backed up and laughed as I did air-hugs toward her, shouting, “I wish I could hug you!!! Thank you so much!!”

My reasons for telling this story is what her act did for us after she left. Later on, after talking about this sweet person, this act motivated us to pass on the deed. Before we left the restaurant, I found a group of ladies sitting together across the restaurant, and did the same for them.

A single act of kindness spurs more acts of kindness in this mad mad world of 2020. And it makes you feel so good inside . . . I promise . . . you should give it a try!!

The Mysterious Agent 355 by Amber Leigh

She’s been fascinating people since 1948, when Long Island historian Morton Pennypacker first wrote about her.

The problem is, she might never have existed. Not as Pennypacker described her, that is. But I’ll explain.

We know Agent 355 was a real person…specifically, a woman who assisted George Washington’s Culper Spy Ring. Washington’s spymaster, Benjamin Tallmadge, devised a numerical code dictionary for the Culper spies to use when composing their intelligence letters.

And the code number for “lady” was 355.

These days, people often use the words woman and lady interchangeably. But in eighteenth-century parlance, a lady was distinct from a mere woman. Simply put, ladies were women from the upper classes…usually from the landed gentry or urban elites.

And ladies were very carefully brought up. They were educated in the feminine arts and social graces of the time. Not all ladies were wealthy, though; some lived in a state of what one might call “genteel poverty”.

In any case, we know 355 was real because Abraham Woodhull – that is, Samuel Culper, Senior – mentioned her in one of his intelligence letters. He didn’t say whether she was rich or poor or what exactly she did, only that she helped him in some way. Of her existence, this is the only real evidence we have.

But we don’t have any evidence at all when it comes to her actual identity. This is something historians have loved to speculate about.

Anna Smith Strong

If you haven’t yet read Washington’s Spies: The Story of America’s First Spy Ring by Alexander Rose, I highly recommend it. In my humble opinion, it’s the best (and probably the most accurate) book about the Culpers you’ll find out there.

Alexander Rose, by the way, was the co-writer and co-producer for the AMC series Turn: Washington’s Spies. The series was based on his book.

So…Rose puts forward Anna Smith Strong as 355. She was Woodhull’s neighbor in his hometown of Setauket, on eastern Long Island. On at least a few occasions, she traveled with him on his journeys to and from New York. Because the checkpoint guards were less likely to search men who traveled with their wives, she pretended to be Mrs. Woodhull, and the ruse succeeded.

Mary Underhill

Another candidate for 355 – though less likely, in my view – has been Woodhull’s sister, Mary Underhill. She lived in New York with her husband, where they ran a boardinghouse. Because Woodhull stayed there whenever he went to New York, Mary probably knew her brother was spying. Whether she ever helped him in his spying, though, is something we cannot know.

Sally Townsend

A more intriguing candidate for 355 is Robert Townsend’s sister, Sally. Morton Pennypacker strongly believed Sally shared important information with Robert – Culper, Junior – which he then passed on to George Washington.

Since then, the theory that Sally Townsend was a spy has been a popular one, though it appears Pennypacker never thought to identify her as the “lady” from Woodhull’s letter. Historian Paul R. Misencik, in Sally Townsend, George Washington’s Teenage Spy, explains why he believes Sally may have been 355.

The thing is, Sally would have had to be acquainted with Abraham Woodhull in order to be that lady. Perhaps they were acquainted, though there doesn’t seem to be any proof of that. And even if they did meet, it’s hard to say whether they knew each other well enough for the level of trust required to spy together.

So, as I do in the cases of Anna Strong and Mary Underhill, I have my doubts about Sally Townsend being 355.

Then who was she?

Woodhull’s word choice is key, as is the fact that he addressed all his intelligence letters to Benjamin Tallmadge, who later decoded them. In the letter I mentioned above, he told Tallmadge that “by the assistance of a 355 [lady] of my acquaintance, [I] shall be able to outwit them all.” Below is a caption of the sentence from that very same letter, written August 15, 1779:

From the George Washington Papers. Courtesy of the Library of Congress.

But Tallmadge, like Woodhull, was a Setauket native. He was close to Woodhull’s age, and they grew up together. And his connection to Anna Strong was as close as Woodhull’s, if not closer. His widowed father, the Reverend Benjamin Tallmadge, married Zipporah Strong on January 3, 1770. And Zipporah was the sister of Selah Strong, Anna’s husband.

Therefore, it seems strange that Woodhull, in addressing Tallmadge, would refer to Mrs. Strong as “a lady of my acquaintance [emphasis added].” That would infer that Woodhull knew her, and that Tallmadge did not.

But with Anna Strong, that couldn’t have been the case. Otherwise, he’d have written “a lady of our acquaintance” or “a lady we know.” Wouldn’t he?

Of course, Woodhull did know Mary Underhill much better, as she was his sister, and I’m sure Tallmadge knew her, too. But a close relative, with whom one grew up, is no mere “acquaintance.” So Mary Underhill was also probably not the mysterious unnamed lady.

Now it is very likely that Tallmadge never met Sally Townsend. And again, we don’t know for sure whether Woodhull ever met her or not. Even if he did, the odds are high that Robert Townsend would not have permitted Woodhull to stop off in Oyster Bay to glean secrets from his little sister.

That doesn’t mean Robert himself never gleaned a secret or two from Sally. But whether he did or not, the way Woodhull wrote the above sentence makes it sound as though he received direct assistance from this lady. That wouldn’t have been the case if Robert gathered the information from Sally and then shared it second-hand – and verbally – with Woodhull afterwards.

Like I said, the clue seems to lie in Woodhull’s word choice.

So…who, then, was 355?

This is a subject I will be returning to in the future!

Original post: https://amberleighauthor.com/2020/01/07/the-mysterious-agent-355/

Thank you to guest contributor, Amber Leigh!

D. K. Marley

Rabbit Holes

The path of writing is pocked with rabbit holes. I can remember each and every time the moment before the first fall, the peeking into the darkness, my hands wrapped over the edge and the grass tickling my fingers. There is something there, I would say, I can feel the eyes upon me. And then, without warning, the plunge; free-falling into those subconscious dreams as your fingers lay gently on the keys of your laptop. The miracle of the first line forming, spinning by you as you reach out and grab hold, while the sounds of ticking clocks and whistling teapots whirl in your ears. Sometimes you thud to the ground, that horrible feeling of being lost in a thought and not knowing where you are, the dreaded jabberwocky writer’s block. But you push forward, a small tasty morsel of inspiration settles in your jaw; you shrink down into your story, turn the key in the lock and open the door. What delights fill your eyes as a garden of characters greet you. The persistent flowers wanting to know what kind of writer you are, the intuitive caterpillar not resting until you answer his questions of ‘who,’ ‘what,’ ‘where,’ ‘how,’ and ‘why,’ the childish twins helping you remember things of your youth, those tidbits of memory adding to your tale, adding together a little madness, a little hare-brained concoctions of your own imagination, and “ta-da,” your story forms and weaves until the climax. All the while, the Cheshire cat in your heart smiles and moves you on. The climax stares down at you with an axe in her hand. She is the moment of ultimate revision when your story either collapses or succeeds. All the cards are in your hand. You play the game, you shuffle the stack, rearranging and reinventing until you stand tall over the creation of this dream. All your fears, all your passion, and all your days of winding down wordy paths, now complete and ready for the world. The jabberwocky is slain, your story has grown-up and the white rabbit waits for you a little ways down the trail. So, wake up to dream. Inspiration is right in front of your eyes. Come, follow me; I see another rabbit hole.

First Post? Shakespeare, of course!

Galileo said, “Facts which at first seem improbable will, even on scant explanation, drop the cloak which has hidden them and stand forth in naked and simple beauty.”

Simplicity often reveals truth, whereas there is confusion in an overabundance of words. I do not claim to be an academic, nor do I ascribe to the level of a scholar who spends her days wrangling with Stratfordians about the identity of “Mr. W.H.” or “the Dark Lady.” I am simply a writer who finds beauty in words, the way certain phrases roll off the tongue, the transcending feeling that a mere paragraph can invoke, or when a novel shows the commonality of the human condition. In that beauty, that naked and simple beauty, stands stark truth uncluttered by a convocation of words. At last, seeing the forest and not just the trees.

Facts that Stratfordians voice as improbable – the fact that Christopher Marlowe is the true writer of the plays and sonnets – even on scant explanation, such as I am able to produce being as I am just another common enthusiast, has indeed, to my mind, dropped the cloak which has hidden them and stands bared for all the world to see. Truth is simple. Truth is the one person shouting that the emperor is naked when all others shut their eyes, look away or refuse to believe. And the simplicity of it relates to the everyday ordinary person, which is the vast majority of the world.

If the world was able to be presented with the simple facts concerning Christopher Marlowe, as I was, there would be no more doubting. Even if the academic world can never produce solid evidence, we have more than reasonable doubt here that William Shakespeare had the skills, education, knowledge of languages, etc. to produce such profound verse. Simply put, he was an actor, not a playwright or poet.

Christopher “Kit” Marlowe, on the other hand, was gifted at an early age with skills that exceeded his years. Educated at the best schools and surrounded by those who prodded him, he travelled to the continent, he excelled in languages and proved himself a capable playwright and poet well before his twentieth year. Where was Shakespeare during those years? Still in Stratford, married with three children, with no evidence that he wrote a single thing.

Again, Galileo, an academic himself, revealed the answer in relation to these two men. Simple truth trumps pretentious fabrications any day. All you have to do is to remove the veil from your eyes, to stop gorging on the Shakespearean propaganda fed to you through the years, and hear the ring of truth sounded in Marlowe’s own words in Sonnet 76: “Why write I still all one, ever the same, and keep invention in a noted weed, that every word doth almost tell my name, showing their birth and where they did proceed?”

D.K. Marley