When I wrote my first non-fiction book, Painting the Past: A Guide for Writing Historical Fiction, I was drawing on more than two decades of experience reading, writing, and publishing historical fiction. I enjoyed writing that book because I love sharing the lessons I’ve learned about writing. Painting the Past was published in 2021, five years ago now. I had a lot to say in the research section.
I’m one of those oddballs who actually likes research. I like research so much that I got a PhD, which is basically a research degree. During a recent reread of Painting the Past, I realized that I left out an important element when it comes to historical fiction research. Here’s what I left out: if you write historical fiction, no matter how careful or well-intentioned you are in your research, you will make mistakes. There’s no way around it.
I’m meticulous about my research, but I recently spotted a mistake in one of my books. I was ready to tear someone’s hair out (my own, actually) but then I realized that no matter how careful I am, mistakes will happen. When researching historical fiction, I read primary sources when available and cross-check dates. I get bruised from falling down research rabbit holes and emerge into the light with notebooks full of details. No matter how hard I try, some things will slip through. Sometimes we might use a word that wasn’t in use yet. Sometimes we might get our customs or world views wrong. Sometimes we mistake one garment for another. When I first realized the mistake, I was embarrassed, but since I’ve had time to think about it I realized that we historical novelists need some humility in that department.
The Illusion of Perfect Accuracy
I always begin a new historical novel with the hope that if I research enough then I’ll get everything just right. But research doesn’t work that way. There are simply too many sources to sift through to be certain that you’re using the most up-to-date information. Many historical records are incomplete, or they’re contradictory, or they’re filtered through the biases of those who recorded them or those who analyze them, such as biographers. Experts often disagree, and scholars are constantly revising their conclusions. What we consider an accepted fact today might change over time as new evidence emerges.
When we’re writing historical fiction, which is, at its heart, imagined lives placed inside real historical frameworks, we’re working with fragments. My lesson in research humility has included learning that perfection is not ever truly available no matter how hard I try.
Research is an Interpretation, Not a Replication
Just as scholars have to interpret information, so do we historical novelists. In fact, historical novels are acts of interpretation. When we’re writing, we have to decide which sources to trust and which details to emphasize that will bring our stories to life. Two writers can research the same era and produce radically different novels. We see this all the time. Look at the many novels written about Good Ol’ Henry and Anne Boleyn. They are all completely different from each other, and the authors chose different aspects of the era to focus on, which is a good thing.
The Difference Between Carelessness and Humanity
Another lesson I’ve learned is that there’s an important distinction between careless errors and human limitations. Carelessness, as in not checking dates, relying on stereotypes, or not bothering to research at all, is avoidable. Human limitation is not. I mean, hey, we’re just people here, and the fact is no one can know everything about a subject. Also, and this was my issue, sometimes sources conflict. Professor A over here says this and Professor B over there says that. Who is right? In that case, I have to make the choice that best fits the vision of the story I want to tell.
I have to remind myself that historical fiction is exactly that, fiction. I’m not writing a treatise about the Salem Witch Trials, the Oregon Trail, or Biblical Jerusalem. I’m telling a story using those historical moments as a lens. Sometimes I have to fudge the history a bit, but I think that most readers understand that they’re reading a novel and not a history book. My hope is always that readers become so interested in the times that I write about that they want to check out some nonfiction accounts from historians. A novel written with respect for its period can withstand small inaccuracies, and a novel with a boring plot and flat characters cannot be rescued by perfect facts. As a reader, I’ve caught mistakes in novels by other authors. It doesn’t stop me from enjoying the book. I notice it and move on. I bet other readers do the same.
My Fear of Getting It Wrong
When I caught the mistake in my own book, I froze because I was worried that one mistake would invalidate the whole book. I don’t read reviews of my own books, but I read reviews of other people’s books all the time, and the reality is that some readers do like to pounce if they spot a mistake. If they pounce, they pounce. There’s not much I can do about that. I realized that historical fiction is not about flawless reproduction of the past but about emotional truth. Historical fiction is also about helping modern readers understand those who lived under different rules, beliefs, and constraints while at the same time realizing that the more things change, the more things stay the same.
What Readers Are Looking For
As a longtime reader and writer of historical fiction, I believe that most readers of historical fiction aren’t searching for footnotes or citations. They’re searching for immersion in a good story that takes place in a believable world. They want to believe that the characters belong to their time, which means that when our research supports our characters, atmosphere, and theme, then it does its job.
As I said, I’m someone who loves research. I created a personal curriculum for myself specifically so I’d have something to research. And still, I’ve come to realize that I can research endlessly and still make mistakes. The positive side of this is that my book is still good. The story is still solid. While I was focused on my mistake (and I’m talking about the mistake I noticed; I’m sure there are many others I simply haven’t caught yet) I wasn’t giving myself credit for everything I got right.
We chose to write historical fiction because we wanted to tell stories. If we wanted to write non-fiction books with footnotes and citations, we could have done that. Instead, we chose to write a novel. At some point, research must give way to the story. Facts should serve our characters, not the other way around.
The goal is not to recreate the past flawlessly but to engage with it honestly. When I write my next novel, I’ll still need to research my topic deeply and I’ll still double-check and triple-check my sources. Historical novels are not fact-filled tomes. We don’t want to overwhelm our readers with an information dump. A well-written historical novel should be a conversation between the past and the present, and I, for one have never had a perfect conversation. Our writing will always be shaped by what we know, what we don’t know, and what we’re still learning. Readers will notice things you missed, but you’ll be okay. You’ll live to tell the tale, as I have.