After spending decades unable to settle on one period of history or even one country to write about, I have apparently settled into a niche I enjoy (without using the tarot deck there, thank you!). I suppose it makes sense, if I think about it. I’m a character-driven writer. So instead of creating a career in the history of Regency or Victorian England or the American west or whatever, I have apparently taken root in writing about two distinctly different families through the generations and across continents. This way I don’t feel confined by their environment, and I can explore anywhere I like.
As a lover of Georgian and Regency history, I’ve always been fascinated by Edinburgh. The image of an ancient city crushed together between a fort castle on a hill and a palace a mile away, with the New City slowly forming beneath it, has made me crazy until I could actually see it for myself. And now that I have, I’m dying to write about it. The wynds and the university across the bridge and a towering fortress and a palace are like something out of Pratchett.
The area around modern Edinburgh has been occupied since the early Middle Ages, thanks to the promontories that make for excellent lookouts and secure settlements. By the middle of the 14th century, the old town was already being called the capital of Scotland. New Town was established about mid 18th century, just about the time my first Malcolms showed up in my authorial universe.