Ian Smith, ERWA Flasher Gallery editor

I recently read an entertaining-enough adult romance story which provides a good example of the need to do some research, even in fiction.

No, I won’t name the book or author, as I don’t think that would be fair, but I did e-mail some constructive comments to the author.

Firstly, let me say I thought it was a perfectly reasonable adult romance, a variation on the “bad-start-to-happy-ever-after” theme. The main male character was British, the main female was American. They were both actors who met while working on a production in the UK, and a large proportion of the story took place in London. It had all the usual elements, a bad start on first meeting, then becoming friendlier, working through misunderstandings, nearly splitting up and then their happy ending. The steamy bits were nicely done, and came at a perfectly reasonable point in the development of their relationship.

But it struck me that the (American) author hadn’t thought about the setting. There were a number of things which made me think “not the Brtain I know”, and these rather irritated me. As the saying goes, the devil’s in the details.

The American character was described using what sounded like a modern smart phone at the same time that the British character was using a “brick-like” one. No matter how tempting it might be to make a joke about “backward Brits”, we’ve always had much the same range of mobile phones as the US. And they’ve NEVER been “cellular phones” in the UK, always “mobile phones”.

A passing reference was made to “foggy London streets”. London hasn’t been notably foggy for decades. The Clean Air Act 1956 was a response to London’s “Great Smog” of 1952, and fog is now rare in major cities. The popular idea of a foggy London in fiction probably dates back to the Sherlock Holmes stories, which were set in the late 19^th and early 20^th centuries.

At one point, the female character was looking at all the unfamiliar pound notes in her purse. Being pedantic, we’ve not had pound notes since 1988. If you want to bemuse a contemporary character with unfamiliar British money, we have dual-colour £1 and £2 coins, and have had plastic £5 notes since 2016 and plastic £10 notes since 2017. These are a bit annoying, as they slide past each other very readily. Paper pound notes are still legal tender in Scotland and the Isle of Man, but these wouldn’t be recognised in England and Wales. As in the US, card payments are about as common as cash ones.

The script used the word “chippie” as a slang term for a young woman. For most Brits, that’s where we buy our take-away fish and chips, but it’s also used as an informal reference to a carpenter. Female bus conductors and ticket collectors were sometimes referred to as “clippies” in the 1960’s and 1970’s, and I suppose that could easily be mispronounced.

The characters referred to each other as “dear” in conversations. We don’t generally do that, outside some regional and/or social groups, and many Brits would actually find it pretty patronising. We have quite a range of regional accents and dialects across the UK, and these can be a minefield to British writers, let alone ones from other countries. Quite a lot of people in Britain are puzzled by dialogue from time to time when watching episodes of “Shetland” or “Vera”, TV drama shows where the characters have strong regional accents.

When the two main characters were making friends, he took her to a pub and bought her a pint of Guinness, his favourite tipple. Guinness is certainly a popular drink in Britain, but I thought it highly unlikely that a British man would buy an American woman a pint of it by default, even if it’s his drink of choice. Maybe a half-pint, but he’d be far more likely to offer her wine or lager. She might taste his, out of curiosity, and probably pull a face. Most pubs will offer a range of beers, lagers and ciders, often ranging from mass-produced brews to craft beers. Women typically drink half-pints, but plenty now drink pints, and, if they try to match the guys drink-for-drink, probably spend a fair proportion of their evening visiting the ladies loo.

See how I snuck in some genuine British slang, “loo” for toilet? Sneaky, eh? It’s also commonly used in Australia and New Zealand, according to wikipedia.

The character also referred to Guinness being better direct from the brewery, which is widely accepted as a fact. But the brewery is in Dublin, the capital of Ireland, so not exactly convenient for anyone in London to pop out for a quick pint.

The male character was “throwing darts” in the pub with his mates. We “play darts”, not “throw darts”. Yes, we obviously throw darts, but that’s the verb, not the expression for the game.

He stopped off at a liqor store for some alcoholic drinks. We don’t have retail outlets called “liqor stores”, and rarely refer to it as “liquor” in everyday English. We usually buy alcoholic drinks from supermarkets or “off-licences”, shops which sell alcohol for consumption off the premises. The term relates to our licencing law for alcoholic drinks. Some off-licences are essentially supermarkets for wine.

He also ordered some food to take away from a pub. It’s pretty unusual for pubs to do take-away food, especially in towns and cities with lots of fast-food outlets. They often make a better profit on the drinks customers have with food they eat in the pub than on the food itself. If he wanted to pre-order take-away food, he’d contact a particular outlet. In reality, I guess he’d be likely to use one of the popular app-based services to order food to be delivered to his home.

There are some differences between UK and US English which can trip up writers from both sides of the Atlantic. For example, Brits would not say they were pushing things “off of” or taking things from “inside of” something. We push things off, or take things out. Little details, yes, but silly mistakes can make a reader pause and mentally leave the story for a second or two.

So, what can we do?

Research, that’s what!

Google really is the writer’s friend, so get stuck in and use it.

Social media is such an easy way for writers to ask their “friends” in other countries for information, facts or advice. Recruit a few as beta-readers and pay close attention to their feedback, especially about details. You could join an international constructive critiquing group for more private sharing of drafts and comments.

Watch British productions on TV or British films (movies in the US) for research purposes, and pay attention to the props, the locations, the way the characters talk. It isn’t always “accurate”, but it’s usually pretty reasonable. Read books or listen to audiobooks written by British authors set in modern-day Britain.

Want to look around the real, modern-day Britain from the comfort of your own home? Just use streetview.

If an American was reading a story I’d written in which an American character didn’t ring true for them, or I described something “American” which struck them as incongruous or even plain wrong, I’d appreciate being told about it, ideally politely.

How else can I learn to write better?

Two of the questions I see frequently posted in some Facebook groups for writers run along the lines of:

1 – I’ve written my story, now what?

2 – How will I know when I’ve finished editing?

My answers, which are much the same as those offered by many others, are:

1 – Revise it.

2 – You never do – you get to an “it’ll do” stage.

Questions like these are far more common in the groups for those with less experience of writing, and I phrase my responses in what I hope is an encouraging way. Let’s face it, every writer appreciates motivation to revise a story they’ve just spent weeks, months or even years working on. And are quite possibly a little fed up with…

I like the quote “the first draft is just you telling yourself the story”, attributed to the late Terry Pratchett, a writer notable for producing rather a lot of very popular books. When I’m working on a story, it certainly feels like that to me, as if I’m trying to write out something I already know, but can’t quite remember.

The participants in the ERWA “storytime” workshop have probably got used to my way of working on longer stories, typically writing and posting one chapter a week for comments anyone is willing to offer. I’m more of a pantser than a plotter, and I find it really helpful to have the discipline of a self-imposed target. Yes, sometimes I realise I really needed to have introduced something in one of the earlier chapters. I recently finished the first draft of a 57,000-word story and only realised something important about my two main characters while writing the final chapter. So, something to work on during revision.

Once I’ve finished, I find it useful to wait a few weeks before starting on revisions. It’s always provided me with a slight “detachment” from the story, which seems to help me be rather more objective about it. For me, revision is about trying to tell the story to readers as well as possible. I pay attention to things like the time frame and chronology; consistency of locations, descriptions and characters (“continuity issues”); trying to make action scenes clear; clarifying who “her” and “she” are in scenes involving two or more women, and so on.

For me, character development is important; how do my main characters change as a result of their experiences, and how do I show that in my telling of their story?

My working practice is to work away and frequently save the new versions with different file names. There’s little issue with disc space these days – my current draft of a 49,000 word story is only 3.5 MBytes. And once I reach the end, I’ll review and revise it again, usually three or four times in total. Eventually, I reach a point where I feel I’ve done as much as I can, even though I’m sure it could be better. Or maybe I just reach the point where I’ve simply had enough of the story?

Before I submit a story, I want it to be in a good shape. I’d like the editors to think I’ve adopted a “professional” approach to my writing, as that might help them feel confident I’ll have the same attitude while working with them.

When a story’s been accepted, every editor I’ve worked with has helped me tell it better than I could have done on my own. Yes, of course I feel anxious when I got the first e-mail from an editor with their annotated copy of my story. But every time, the comments and suggestions were helpful and constructive.

Self-editing (or revising) is one thing, but editing someone else’s work is quite another. I’ve offered detailed constructive comments as a beta-reader, but never tried to edit even a short story. I think that anyone willing to invest that much time and effort into helping another writer develop their own story deserves our gratitude and admiration, as well as fair payment.

Even when the editor and I have agreed that it’s “done”, there are still things we could have changed. I don’t suppose many writers are ever completely happy with their published stories. As their experience grows, no doubt they realise they could have written things differently, added a few more scenes to give more depth to the story, and so on.

As my publisher recently gave up the struggle and returned my rights, I’m revising the three novellas involved to submit to another publisher. These were the first three in a planned series of five, and the first draft of the fourth is ready for revision, too. It’s interesting to look back on stories I wrote three or four years ago, now that these characters and their stories have developed in my own mind. It’s a chance for me to think how they and their relationships develop across the series, how things move on from one book to the next, and address anything I think isn’t as good as I can make it.

So, you’ve written your story? Great, that’s an achievement in itself – most people don’t finish books they set out to write.

You’ve told yourself the story.

Now revise it.

And revise the revision.

And maybe revise that revision.

Then you’re ready to let other people read your story.

If they’re beta-readers, you may find it helpful to ask for comments on specific things, like characters, dialogue, or the development of relations, as well as general feedback. Read and think about their comments, and revise the story as you think is necessary.

If an editor’s the next person to read it, you can expect to produce another revision or two… But at the end, you’ll have a better telling of your story.

As an aside, I’ve not tracked down the source of Terry’s quote, but I found this interesting article, a transcript of Terry Pratchett and Gerald Seymour in conversation with David Freeman at the 2001 Cheltenham Literary Festival. Clearly, Terry’s way of writing wasn’t quite what you might guess from the quote, and it neatly illustrates the contrasting ways these two authors found worked for them.

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2001/nov/08/fiction.terrypratchett

Ian Smith

ERWA Flasher and Quickie Editor

I recently tried writing something new for me, a historical story. In fact, an early medieval story, set in the twelfth century.

In all my writing, I try hard to set the scene in my readers’ minds (yes, revealing my naked ambition by aspiring to multiple readers) by “painting” in what I hope is enough detail for their imaginations to fill in everything else they need to see the scene in their mind.

I blame being exposed to Len Deighton’s The Ipcress File at an impressionable age. But it’s a style I like for being economical and usually engaging.

But how can I imagine being there, watching my characters do their twelfth century … stuff?

Research? As a leisure-time writer with no access to academic libraries, opportunities for “proper” research are a bit restricted.

Yes, of course I used google for some things, but you need to have a good idea of what your real question is before you can figure out which hits are helpful answers.

Some answers are just pretty simple, of course, assuming we remember to ask ourselves “is this right?”

Not long ago, I read a novel set in the 1920’s, in which the main character produced a Glock pistol. A fine choice of weapon for self defence, I’m sure, but an implausible one… Glock wasn’t founded until 1963.

Want to set a scene in a fast-food restaurant in London in say 1970? McDonalds won’t open their first branch there for another four years.

Sometimes it’s kind of convenient to rely on other people’s research, particularly if you’re confident it’s reliable enough, and it looks pretty good.

I found a lot of helpful information in Ian Mortimer’s The Time Traveller’s Guide to Medieval England. He’s a professional academic historian as well as an historical fiction writer, so has access to the right resources, and can probably even read Latin and Middle English. He wrote this book to help readers see the past as real rather than as history, describing what you might see and experience as a visitor to the period. It gave me some insight into how people lived, what they ate and wore, and about their world. He’s since written two similar books, covering the Elizabethan and Restoration periods.

And of course Dr Mortimer isn’t the only writer whose work we can benefit from, if only for some ideas and scene-dressing.

A few examples? Umberto Eco’s The Name of the Rose paints a vivid picture of a 14^th century Italian monastery. Edith Pargeter (aka Ellis Peters) set her well-known Brother Cadfael murder mysteries in early 12th century Shrewsbury, in western England. Sarah Woodbury’s Gareth and Gwen mysteries are set in 12^th century Wales, when it was still a separate country from Norman-ruled England, and Dublin was a Viking city. Or there are the Stanton and Barling mysteries, by EM Powell, again set in the 12^th century, where the two main characters were the nearest thing the English justice system had to detectives.

There are factual TV shows and series which can help us “see” the past a little more clearly as a real time and place, particularly the “re-enacting” ones. There were several excellent British TV series about agricultural life in the past – the Tudor Monastery Farm, the Victorian Farm, the Edwardian Farm and the Wartime Farm (ie 1939-1945). The “supersizers” series by Giles Coren and Sue Perkins were factual entertainment about the history of food, including the two of them trying out things from the period, like clothing and historically accurate meals. It’s worth remembering our ancestors ate a far wider range of animals, birds and fish than we do. That wasn’t because these were notably tasty, more of an “eat it or go hungry” choice. I’ve read that swan tastes pretty awful.

I’ve read plenty of books (or listened to the audiobooks) which conveyed the period nicely for me. The Sherlock Holmes stories, written between 1887 and 1927, mentioned telegrams, daily postal services, messenger services, the introduction of telephones, and using frequent train services. The unrestricted access to opium and cocaine is surprising to modern readers, but both were readily available at the time, when it’s been estimated that a quarter of doctors were addicted to opium.

Other books I’ve enjoyed which were set in the early 1950’s in Britain described a time of post-war austerity, limited private car ownership, commonplace use of trains with helpful station staff (including porters), and, in some areas, telephone calls still connected via operators who might just be listening in.

On the other hand, books actually written in earlier periods may not be that helpful, as the authors expected their readers to at least be familiar with the world the characters lived in (eg Fielding, Austen, Hardy or Dickens).

What about old TV shows and films, from the 1920’s on? These might show regular life in the US before air conditioning – wiping the back of your neck with a handkerchief in summer – everyone wearing hats and other period fashions, steam engines in widespread use on the railways, horses and steam traction engines being used on farms, manual typewriters, rotary dial telephones, telex machines, card index systems, hot metal newspaper printing…

Some modern shows and movies made a big effort to create realistic-looking settings, and I thought Versailles, The Musketeers, Taboo, and Poldark certainly gave the impression of being true to period. The 2005 film adaptation of Pride and Prejudice with Matthew Macfadeyn and Keira Knightly was a notable hatchet job of the book which had some fabulous background details about life for the rural “comfortably-off” around 1800.

Although it’s primarily fantasy, there’s a lot of historical accuracy in the Game of Thrones world. Not the dragons, obviously, but the background details of life in a castle and so on.

The TV series Britannia ran rings around historical accuracy and even plausibility. But what the heck, it’s only a story.

I watched Die Hard the other night (my go-to Christmas film), made in 1988 complete with women’s “big hair” styles, clumsy-looking computer systems, CB radios, but no mobile phones. Richard Gere’s character in Pretty Woman (1990) had a mobile phone, which looks hilariously clunky today, like two house bricks. Even Dirty Dancing had a wealth of background detail you could study – the idea of annual month-long stays at the same stuffy resort centre, the entertainment, fashions, and manners.

It’s probably wise to resist overdoing your scene-setting. While you might be tempted to include things in the narrative like books or albums popular at the time, unless these are subjects discussed by the characters, it might come across as “telling”. Perfect incidental visual details in a TV show or film, though.

We may be fortunate in Britain with our long history, as we have some great places to visit which can help our imaginations. Neolithic constructions, iron-age hill forts, Roman forts and buildings, assorted castles and historic houses, and some decent museums…

The Weald and Downland Museum has more than forty historic buildings representing a thousand years of history. Blists Hill Victorian Town, operated by the Ironbridge Gorge Museum Trust, recreates a Victorian town for visitors, complete with a cast of re-enactors. The Beamish Open-Air Museum lets you glimpse industrial life in the northeast of England during the 19th and 20th centuries. I know the US has something similar at Colonial Williamsburg.

A lot of historic buildings and sites in Britain run events where visitors can meet re-enactors and get a brief glimpse of a version of the past, such as a medieval camp, or a Victorian mill or kitchen.

And then there are jousting displays and re-enacted battles and skirmishes, typically Viking or English Civil War. There are groups of enthiasts who do Roman, Napoleonic, Victorian and WW1 or WW2 military displays.

How about the large-scale annual Battle of Hastings rematch? Somehow, the bloody Normans always win, but maybe one year…

One thing we can’t get from these museums are some of the grim realities of even our recent past, which can be invaluable for the historical fiction writer. Dreadful poverty. The feudal system. Insanitary living conditions. A monotonous and limited diet. Frequent poor years for farming, with not infrequent famines. Thousands of people affected by ergotism. Half of children dying before the age of twenty-one. Huge numbers dying and suffering from disease, with no health or dental care, aggravated by malnutrition. Lives ruled by superstition and religion. The acceptance that the rich and noble were more important simply by right of birth. An almost matter-of-fact indifference to cruelty and suffering. Crusades, literal witch-hunts, wars, revolts and uprisings. The high death toll on long sea-journeys from disease, including an expected 50% from scurvy.

Or how about a disaster story set during one of the many fires which destroyed or severely damaged largely-wooden medieval European cities and towns? London had three great fires (1135, 1212 and 1666) and twelve major ones (two in Roman times, then in 675, 798, 892, 1087, 1130, 1132, 1220, 1227, 1299 and 1633). Lots of other towns and cities had similar incidents: google “list of town and city fires” and feel relief for modern building codes and well-equipped professional firefighters.

The past has all sorts of “detail” things which can help or hinder a writer, too. These are often overlooked for convenience in fiction.

Clothing

Between the thirteenth and seventeenth centuries, various European countries and the Massachusetts Bay Colony in America had “sumptuary laws”, restricting people’s choice of clothing. And fashions changed in the past almost as rapidly as today.

Religion and religious practices

In England, until the fifteenth century reformation, fast days (or meat-free days) occupied almost half the year – including every Wednesday, Friday, Saturday, and all of Lent. Vegetables, or if you were lucky, fish. The selection of vegetables available was surprisingly limited, too. And don’t forget that people then were generally incredibly devout and very superstitious compared to us.

Language

As an example, for 200 years after the Norman Conquest of England, the general population spoke English, the ruling classes spoke Anglo-Norman and French, and very few of either group spoke the other’s language. Church services were conducted in Latin, of course. Legal cases could only be conducted in English from 1362, and the court switched to English by the end of the fourteenth century. By English I mean Middle English – check out Chaucer’s “Canterbury Tales” in the original text for a written form in the modern alphabet. And language use changed as fast in the past as it does today. There were also a wealth of local accents and dialects in all languages, some even more strikingly different from the norm than we have now.

Actually, language raises another question – dialogue. How closely do we follow what we think the speech styles would be in that period? It might sound perfect to someone from that time, but seems at best flowery and roundabout to us. How “realistic” does it need to be in order to convey a sense of the period? At the time, it was everyday language, after all.

Inevitably, there are a few books available to help those keen to write historical fiction.

Medieval Underpants and Other Blunders caught my attention when I perused Amazon, if only for the title. Historical Fiction Writing – A Practical Guide and Tool-Kit by Myfanwy Cook and Bernard Knight looks like a useful book, based on popular workshops Myfanwy has run. She’s a successful writer herself.

As with all other aspects of writing, there are no hard rules, only conventions. Even spelling’s just a convention, after all.

Readers who enjoy lots of historical fiction may well have expectations, so it’s probably worth becoming familiar with the genre or sub-genre you’re writing in.

Unless you’re writing an alternative history or steampunk, if you include significant factual details, do check them as best you can.

Other than that, well, have fun developing your ideas and writing your stories.

Oh, and do keep an eye open for intriguing historical discoveries. Spotting a mention of medieval underpants in a story might not actually be something to snigger about…

Oh, by the way, the comments I had back on my story from some of my collaborative critiquing group certainly left me feeling I’d got the “feel” right, which was rather nice to know. I’ve got some revisions to do, then I’ll see if I can get the story published.