Adding Truth to Fiction Might Cause Hair Loss

demotivational posters - THE DIFFERENCE

Truly. How many times have you woven in cool tidbits from your research only to be slammed by your beta readers or agents/editors that it doesn’t sound believable?

And you splutter, “But… but… that really happened!”

We’ve all heard that truth is stranger than fiction, and that’s, well, that’s true. The problem is when you want to weave in those bits you’ve picked up, or even base your whole plot around a real life incident.

For instance, if you read about Victorian women dueling with swords while topless in a novel, would you scoff? Read on…

(How’s that for a teaser?)

But first, let’s back up a bit. Monday, author Amy Corwin wrote a post called Truth is Too Far-fetched for Fiction. In it she talks about how she got the inspiration for her book, The Bricklayer’s Daughter, from a real figure in history, Catherine Wilson, who chose to dress as a man. When she wanted to have her character marry, her editor drew the line and said it wouldn’t be believable. The irony was that Miss Wilson actually did marry to keep her identity secret.

Her post dovetailed with a draft I’ve had sitting in my blog dashboard on just this topic, so I decided to flesh it out for today’s post. Last month, I participated in a hashtag chat on writing historical fiction, and historical romance writer Isobel Carr brought up an interesting fact that would be hard to make believable in fiction, topless Victorian women dueling. But it really happened. I circled back with Isobel for this post and she said, “I do think that real history that doesn’t fit modern ‘beliefs’ about the past can be hard to pull off in books… Of course, I can’t help trying anyway…”

I’ve run into this issue too. Critique partners or beta readers marked parts of my WIP as not being plausible or flat out unbelievable. And nine times out of ten, it’s an actual historical fact. A lot of times it’s because readers improperly assign the sensibilities of the Victorian era to the Georgian era. I was able to get around this sometimes because I’m writing about a modern woman going back in time, so she acts as a surrogate for the modern reader. So when I got flack from critiquers about her riding alone in a carriage in 1834 with a man, I had her wonder the same and then remember that Jane Austen had a character do just that, etc. and have her reflect several times that things wouldn’t start getting prudish until later.

I’ve also heard people think everyone was short or that people didn’t live on average past 30 or something. They’ll see a statement like this in their textbooks in school:  life expectancy at birth in Medieval Britain was 30, and jump to the conclusion that people died on average around the age of 30. The problem with the last assumption is that it’s based on statistical averages from time of birth. Why is that significant? Because infant mortality rates were much higher back in the day and if you factored in all those deaths, yes, it brought the average life expectancy waaaay down. But if you lived past five, you had a decent shot of living into your 60s or 70s.  Now that infant mortality rates have dropped in some parts of the world, and sweeping epidemics like the Black Plague aren’t wiping out huge swaths of adults, the statistical average has risen.  I don’t want to turn this post into a rant on this specific topic, so I’ll cut this short. The point is, what you think you may know about history might not be true.

Another anecdote: I have a cousin who published a literary novel set in the past. It was well received, but the one bad review I remember well because the reviewer was hung up on the fact that some of the events described were just too unbelievable to swallow. The book was based in the South, the reviewer was a Northerner, and the things he objected to were actual incidents in our family. We’re wacky down here like that…

As a writer of historical fiction, it’s enough to make you want to tear your hair out, or bang your head against a wall until it bleeds. Especially if you get ripped by a reviewer who doesn’t know better. While you can have a dialog with your critiquers and tell them it’s true, you don’t have that luxury with a reader/reviewer. But yet you want to do your part to weave in some historical facts.

So, what to do? I don’t really have the magic answer as I’m not experienced enough of a writer. I’m going to share some ideas and then leave the floor to commenters…

1. Work extra hard with motivations.

One thing I did read from a writing book though has stuck with me: that when you weave in real life events (whether they’re incidents from your own life or historical tidbits) you have to work extra hard to setup the motivations of the characters in order to make the reader believe it.

Why is this? It seems to run counter to logic. But what happens is that in your mind, you know it’s true, so you inadvertently skip the steps you’d normally take in your writing of setting up the motivations for your characters. You don’t set it up as diligently as you would something you imagined, because after all, it really happened. I am so guilty of this. Right now I’m still having readers find it hard to believe that Ada Lovelace as a child never saw a portrait of her famous father Lord Byron. According to my sources, it was covered by a large swatch of cloth, so I added that little bit. However, beta readers and critiquers are marking it, saying this didn’t sound believable– wouldn’t she have tried to peek? Apparently she didn’t in real life. However, I need to come up with some kind of explanation for this to make this believable.

Another temptation for skipping motivation is because in real life it happened randomly so as a writer, you have it happen that way too. But in fiction, everything has a purpose and a reason to be there, and so it has to tie into that. It needs to be grounded in your plot and be a realistic action on the part of the character. Remember your motivation reaction units (MRUs) and ensure that this new event has a firm basis in motivation.

2. Perhaps take some world-building tips from paranormal and fantasy writers?

By definition, these folks are asking readers to believe in things that are fantastical. How do they do it? Recently, paranormal author Jami Gold explored how to make readers believe and she touched upon how romance novels are perceived as unrealistic. She countered with:

The romance novels I’ve found to be the least believable were those where the author didn’t do enough with motivations and/or actions to show why the hero and heroine were perfect for each other.

This corresponds with the advice I’d read about weaving in real life events. She lists some other solutions to help keep a reader believing and I think this can apply to historical oddities you’d like to include. A great discussion followed in the comments as well.

3. Make your character believe

One point I brought up in Jami’s comments was making your character believe. I used this tactic when I had early readers say it was too unbelievable to have two female mathematicians in that time period, but both of the characters were real historical figures (Ada Byron Lovelace and Mary Somerville). So I had my main character express her own surprise and acceptance, etc. We’ll see if that works…

What about you? What are some historical assumptions that drive you crazy as a writer? How do you weave them in/make them believable?

Research Can Add Rich Detail: The British Museum

Left to Right: Montagu House, Townley Gallery and Sir Robert Smirke‘s west wing under construction (July 1828)

My main character works at the British Museum in present day, but finds herself in 1834 London. I thought it would be fun for her to visit the museum while she’s in 1834 to see her reaction.

When I wrote my first draft, I knew I needed to do research on the museum, but waited until I was polishing my third draft. I wondered if the current building was even around in 1834, and sure enough, it wasn’t. But, it was right during the time it was being built. It took some digging to find out which wing was built when, and which was yet open for the public, but I discovered that in 1834, she would be visiting the previous museum’s lodgings, Montagu House. The British Museum’s website has some very helpful history posted. This initial led me to many more on their history, with photos and drawings, and even a history of each wing.

Be Humble: Fact Check, Or Why I Thought I Knew This Fact About Jane Austen

When I originally conceived this blog post, it was to use Jane Austen’s anonymity as an example of fact-checking. It still is, but with a little twist. The point turned back on me waving its index finger.

When reading historical romances, I get frustrated by anachronistic words or events. Or just completely not understanding a word’s usage in context to the time (thinking a conservatory in a house was a place where they listened to music, not where they kept their plants). I won’t name any names because that would be mean, but also because I know I’m not immune to this. Thank God my critique partners have caught the ones they have and I shudder to think how many others linger unnoticed in my manuscript. Everyone has their own little pockets of expertise and there’s no way a writer can know all. So double-check your assumptions and have others knowledgeable in your subject read it.

My Jane Austen beef in romance novels has always been when the Regency heroine in some country village or manor house mentions they are reading one of Miss Austen’s works. That, I have no problem with, in fact I love it because I’d go all fan girl on her if I was able to meet her. Anyway, my problem is when they actually name her as the author. While she lived, her published works were all published anonymously. Only her intimate friends, family, publisher and the Prince Regent (and presumably his inner circle) knew she was the author. So if your heroine is a country miss in Kent, she would not know Jane Austen was the author.

If I am wrong on this assumption, please, please, please tell me so that I can stop having this as my pet peeve!

Now to the twist back at me. For some reason I had it in my head that it was the 1833 edition published by Bentley that first had her name listed as the author and so I was going to caution folks to not have your heroine name Miss Austen prior to 1833. However, in preparation for this post, I thought I should double-check that assumption and found out that her brother listed his sister as the author when he printed Persuasion and Northanger Abbey in December 1817, five months after she died. Oops! *Scurrying back to my manuscript to change that little fact about my heroine when she’s drooling over the 1833 edition*

So, if your heroine is having small talk in the parlor before 1817, you shouldn’t have her name Miss Austen’s name.

I think the lesson for me is that it’s even more dangerous to make assumptions when you’re writing about something you think you know pretty well. Double check anyway. I’m also prepared for this to be unintentional irony, pointing out that I didn’t fact check enough and got something wrong. Please let me know. I think that’s the point of this post. I wanted to write a post about fact-checking but am running late for work, so posting… and in my haste probably committed some errors or misstatement of fact.