A GUEST POST BY S. B. WATSON
I like historical fiction. I like reading it, I like writing it. As of this writing, I’ve published stories set in 1920’s England and Scotland, 1950’s Portland, 12th Century Normandy, the African Gold Coast in the 17th century, and have a few other distinct periods slated for publication later this year.
But as much as I love historical fiction, I am aware it has detractors. I was talking with a friend—another writer, a very good one—who told me he rarely ‘gets into’ historical fiction. Such stories don’t grab him. He finds them hard to finish. Even short stories. Another friend—not a writer—told me he doesn’t like ‘old’ settings. If it isn’t current, he said, it doesn’t feel relevant.
Why is this? What’s going on with historical fiction that makes it harder for some readers to enjoy? Is it an intrinsic curse, baked into the very concept of setting a story in another era? An unavoidable risk a writer takes when deciding to place his detective in ancient Greece, or Napoleonic Europe, or 1930’s Manchuria? Or is it something mechanical, something technical, that writers could manipulate to their advantage while constructing their stories if they knew what to watch out for?
And, on the other hand, those who do like historical fiction often enjoy it on a level more akin to an amateur hobbyist than a casual reader. There’s a bit of obsession, there—the lure of the exotic commanding readers like moths to a porch light. Why is this, and could the writer capture this mysterious allure to use in his work?
I’d like to break this down into two rough concepts—1) ‘problems’ with historical fiction, that can push a reader away if not carefully dealt with, and 2) ‘profiles’ of readers who actually get through these historical things, and somehow enjoy them. Up front, a warning—this is intended as a technical discussion on the writing craft. If you’re looking for a casual read, this may not be for you. If, however, you’ve been toying with the idea of setting that next mystery, or romance, or horror story in an ancient Greek taverna, but are a bit intimidated by the historicity of it, read on.
Six Problems with Historical Fiction
Jargon
The most tangible deterrent to a casual reader’s enjoyment, often found in spades in historical fiction, is jargon—technical terms of another time, or place, or profession. A good example of this is found in Nautical Fiction. Wind directions, ship types, rigging systems, sail names, crew ranks and duties… The list goes on and on. The problem is, if you want to write an accurate story set on a Napoleonic naval vessel, you’ll have to use some of these, to some extent.
When you use jargon in a story, it’s comparable to using words from a foreign language, but even worse—you’ve presented the reader with something completely indecipherable, often even with the help of a dictionary. Unless the reader already has technical knowledge of the terms you’re using, you run the risk of pushing them out of the story.
Caricatures, not Characters
Another pitfall I often see is writers leaning too heavily on historical stereotypes without breathing real depth into their work. A pirate story I recently read, in a big-name drugstore crime magazine, fell prey to this trap. Every character was presented like something from a Disney pirate movie, in broad strokes with stereotypical affectations, shallow motivations, and grandiose actions. The story lacked any real depth of character and so felt pale and disingenuous.
This is alarmingly easy to do, especially if you approach the historical setting as a mere trapping for your story, as opposed to a real place your characters have grown up in and inhabit.
Too Much History, Not Enough Story
While treating your setting too generally can be problematic, the opposite can also be true when you concentrate so heavily on the historical setting that you bend the purity of your story around the facts of the past. An example of this is shoe-horning in historical events, places, or people that add little to no substance to the story itself. In the aforementioned pirate story, multiple locales and historical events were included which quite literally had nothing to do with the story itself. Did they add ambiance or atmosphere? Not enough to offset the damage they inflicted on the narrative pace.
Too much Time-Period, Not Enough People
Times change, people don’t. Bad historical fiction often concentrates too much on the time period itself at the expense of highlighting the relatability of its characters. If a story puts too much emphasis on the historical period but neglects building empathetic, human characters, it risks losing relatability. Unrelatable fiction will bore a reader, regardless of how cool the setting is, and produce a feeling if irrelevance.
Lack of ‘Thisness’
Good writing will include elements of a weird little thing (some of) us writers call ‘thisness,’ subtle details anchoring a description with individuality. Elements of ‘thisness’ are what make that car unique from that make of car, or this person individual from his identical twin brother. In writing, ‘thisness’ can be used to root a description in apparent reality, differentiating this particular briefcase (the old tattered one, made of scarred Moroccan leather with a twine-wrapped handle) from every other, generic briefcase.
In historical fiction, getting the unique ‘thisness’ of your chosen time period correct can be the difference between overwriting every passage with technical jargon and pedantic details and setting a scene that sings with historical flavor and flair without the period-atmosphere getting in the way of the story.
Imagery Whiplash and Misleading Connotations
Another sure-fire way to anger your reader is a lack of control over your imagery. Take this opening scene, for example:
“She threw the book into the room, watching it tumble across the carpet. Penelope’s teacher would surely have scolded her, seeing her handle a book that way—but she didn’t care. She turned and leaned into the open casement, surveying the castle grounds beneath her parapet window with satisfaction…”
The problem here is that most readers would start that description and assume—quite reasonably—that this is a modern girl, in a modern room, with a modern teacher, only to find out, a few words later, that she’s in some medieval setting. And in a castle, no less.
This sort of confusing imagery is easy to unintentionally produce. Once or twice, you might get away with—sometimes it can even be used for effect, to startle your reader deeper into your story—but done without control, repeatedly, and you’ll disenfranchise your reader. Simply put, they’ll leave your story and look for something that gives them a more controlled image.
Four Types of Historical Fiction Readers
So, considering all these stumbling blocks that commonly get in the way of enjoying historical fiction, just who are the mad readers who like this stuff? To my way of thinking, here are the four main types of people who actively sit down and dig into a historical piece.
The Time Period Enthusiast
Every genre has a few hobbyists that are more dedicated than the casual reader. The Time Period Enthusiast is akin to a literary steam-engine buff, American Civil War afficionado, ham radio hobbyist, or WWII airplane nut. They read specific time periods simply because their imaginations are captivated by them—often, they won’t even mind if the story itself is lacking the usual elements of narrative consistency, so long as it gets the details right. These are the guys who love jargon. They feed on technical knowledge and historical details, and find absurd comfort in knowing their way around the dense literature of their interests.
The Escapist
The Escapist reads historical fiction because they never ‘got into’ Fantasy. It presents an alternative world, something more tangible than magic and dragons, but still with a twinge of the unfamiliar and a touch of mystique. Historical fiction allows them to escape from the daily pressures of modern life by porting them far away from their present sensibilities.
The Exotic Junky
The Exotic Junky doesn’t really care what they’re reading, provided it feels distinctive and thrilling. Historical fiction is uniquely positioned to provide this because of the wide variety of periods, settings, and themes it can provide. The Junky isn’t overly worried about historical accuracy, just so long as the story can keep surprising them and introducing them to new things.
The Catholic Reader
‘Catholic,’ as in ‘open-minded.’ The Catholic Reader represents all the readers who wouldn’t label themselves as ‘enjoying historical fiction,’ but read it anyway. They’re the normal readers, the everyday Joes, who pick up a story and just accept it for what it is, hoping for a well-written and narratively rewarding experience. If it’s set in Byzantium, or the Roman sack of Carthage, who cares? It’s all fine with them, so long as the story is solid and doesn’t push them away with egregious details.
Tools for the Writer
So, now that we’ve discussed some historical white-waters and the intrepid readers who navigate them, we return to the question: How do you write engaging historical fiction?
The first step is one that we often ignore when writing ‘regular’ fiction—be brutally honest about your target audience. If you plan to dig deep into the nitty-gritty of steam locomotive production and design, and also somehow tell a story, you probably aren’t catering to the Catholic Reader (it’ll disappoint their need for a good narrative), the Exotic Junky (it will become too technical to satisfy their thirst for thrilling scenes), or the Escapist (too much engineering, not enough fantasy). You’re writing for the Enthusiast. Likewise, if you envision your story with romance, and daring do, and a bit of swashbuckling, and maybe an extra-dimensional monster or two—this sounds more up the Exotic Junky’s alley than the others.
If your story would only be enjoyed by a small niche of Enthusiast readers, you should consider what makes it so. By simply removing some of the jargon, and some of the emphasis on details, you might be able to broaden that audience to include the Exotic Junky as well. Or, by concentrating on the human element and the story, putting the historical facts to the background, you could get the everyday Catholic Readers along with the Escapists.
Once you’ve had an honest talk with yourself about where you want your story to land, you can get down to the nuts and bolts—those first Six Problems I went over.
The trick is, each of these ‘problems’ can be used to your benefit. Jargon can be the very salt that adds ‘thisness,’ and cleverly misleading connotations or suspiciously modern imagery can be the color that captures your modern readers with the illusion of relevancy.
The truth is, all these elements must be used in proper moderation. Too much Jargon, and you’ve disenfranchised any Catholic Reader who may pick your story up. Too many caricatures and you’ll offend the Enthusiasts, too much politics and you may bore the Junkies who want exotic set-pieces. Too heavy an emphasis on the history, and contemporary minds may balk at finding a reason to care for your antiquated characters.
For every story I write in a historical setting, I first consider who I want the story to appeal to. Then, once I’ve determined that, I begin to develop a mental plan to deal with each of the Six Problems. My personal goals are almost always to appeal to a modern audience while drawing them into the ambiance of the past, before they know what’s hit them. For me, that often produces a formula like this—less jargon; a greater emphasis on people, using the history as a backdrop; subtle historical references used to add period-feel and ‘thisness;’ judicious use of caricatures, keeping my main characters as real as possible; and NO imagery whiplash.
In summary: To write engaging historical fiction, determine your target audience, then tailor your story around the Six Problems to ensure you don’t disenfranchise them, but rather draw them into your story.
So, the next time you get the ill-begotten urge to set your zombie-romance in tsarist Russia, I hope this article will give you the courage, and some tools, to start your historical writing journey into the past.
Keizer, OR, March 2025
