I’ve mentioned before how much I love Becky Levine’s book, The Writing & Critique Group Survival Guide. If you just joined a group, if you’re thinking of starting your own group, or if you’re wondering why the writing group you’re in works (or doesn’t), you should read this book.
Becky Levine’s expertise stretches well beyond writing groups. She’s an editor and freelance writer who also writes picture books and young adult fiction. When she speaks, I pay attention. Not long ago, she posted on Facebook about one of her current projects, a historical fiction, and I asked if she’d be willing to stop by and talk about research for such a project. I’m thrilled and honored she said yes.
Welcome, Becky!
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When Christi asked me if I’d write a guest post about research in historical fiction, my first reaction was pretty much: “But I SO haven’t figured that out yet.” Then I remembered that a lot of my favorite posts are ones where I sort of think things through, so I checked with Christi if that would work. Luckily (?!), she said, “Yes.”
The first thing you should know is that I am a fan of historical fiction that does not cover the page with heavy layers of historical detail. I much prefer books that use as few words as possible and still manage to give me a strong sense of time and place. (For some examples, see Sherrie L. Smith’s Flygirl, Joyce Moyer Hostetter’s Healing Water, and Kathryn Fitzmaurice’s A Diamond in the Desert.) Basically, I want more story than history.
The second thing you should know is that writing a historical-fiction novel that stays light on details does not, as far as I can tell, cut down the amount of research you have to do. Obviously, you can’t know which details are the perfect ones until you’ve found them. Which, on some days, makes me sigh.
Because, honestly, I have a love-hate relationship with research.
I love falling in love with my world. My current WIP is set in 1910ish Chicago, with threads of Hull-House, a possible cameo from Jane Addams, and questions about carving out a life in America as the daughter of immigrants, especially an immigrant mother who lives in constant fear of that world out there. Let me tell you, Chicago at the turn of the last century was an amazing place. If something was happening in America, it was happening in Chicago. And, probably, it was happening at Hull-House. Change was thick in the air, and, yet, when I stand at a distance and look at 1912 and 2012, it seems to me that too little has changed.
What’s the hate part? Okay, hate is probably too strong a word. Confusion? Lost-in-the-maze-itis? A strong feeling of Not-in-Kansas, anymore? Research can be a matter of looking for one specific fact that you’re sure you need to know. (Should I tell you how many pages I read trying to figure out whether, if you went to Hull-House, you knocked on the door or just walked in?) It can be a process of reading an entire book about one narrow subject. (Hey, I’ve got a great read for you on how electricity came to Chicago!) It can be trips to the library, browsing through their catalog, tapping your neighbor’s shoulder, and asking them if they can think up another keyword for your search on hospitals in 1910. (Forget cellphones: how did you get hold of an ambulance before there was at least a payphone on every corner?) There are days, truly, that the research is overwhelming.
So why do it? Because you never know what you’re going to find. (That’s the love and the hate part!) I’ve read several books on Hull-House and Jane Addams, and the details I can choose from are plenty. Hopefully I’ll use the right ones. They’re not, however, the most important thing I’ve learned from all that reading. What is? The feeling of the settlement house, the sense of women who really cared; who pushed their own limits to find a job where they could be useful; who made sacrifices so they could surround themselves with like-minded, intelligent, creative thinkers. The sense of a place where, if you did knock on that door, someone was going to open it, draw you inside, put you to work, and give you a home. A better one than the one you’d left behind.
So you turn pages, you browse the Internet, you read letters and diaries, you talk to people at museums. Gradually, piece-by-piece, you come to an understanding of the world you’re writing about. An understanding that I think, I hope, will seep into the pages of your story and create that feeling of a distinct, unique world. Without burying your reader in detail after detail after detail.
Yes, it’s important for me to know the facts about what happens at the Hull-House door. It’s even more important for me, and my reader, to feel the energy and excitement that was going on behind it. And research—whether you love it, hate it, or (most likely) both—is the path to it all.
Becky Levine is a writer living in California’s Santa Cruz mountains. She’s currently working on a young-adult historical novel, as well as her first picture book. Becky is the author of The Writing & Critique Group Survival Guide (Writer’s Digest, 2010) and works part-time as a grant writer for a local art and history museum.
*Blog photo credits: Dru Bloomfield on flickr.com and Cohdra on morgueFile.com
Christi, thanks for introducting us to Becky.
Becky, I am so glad I did not read the “bio” part of this post until I had read all your thoughts. The reason? I was an executive director of a children’s agency in one of the most controversial neighborhoods in Manhattan … Washington Heights. I was reponsible for all grants and contracts, budgets and program development. My life in college and until I retired was centered around social services and my training was in research. I have had a love affair with libraries and librarians and I love the new techno research possibilities we have in cyber space. YES … the flavor, the tone and the real feel of any subject can only be defined once we have the entire picture.
Of course, being a New Yorker and living the history of their settlement houses, being fortunate enough to work with some of the oldest and revered of those settlement houses, like Henry Street Settlement House (over 100 years and counting) … gives me a deep understanding … not only of the immigration patters from Ellis Island to the “houses” … not only of the differences in groups and their amazing stories of survival … but of the spirit of what this new world meant to millions. BTW I am first generation Italian, born and bred in Brooklyn, grew up in the Bush Terminal Factory District and have a different take. My dad refused to risk Ellis Island and as an Italian merchant seaman decided to “jump ship.” Thus, I am the product of an illegal allien, who when my older brother was twelve became a naturalized citizen and taught me all about American politics and football 🙂
I wish you much success and applaud your work both in fiction and in your day-job … gotta love the challenge of the grant “searches,” those dozens of RFP’s … repeating the demographics so many times you dream about them. I am sure this gives you insights that can bring the light touch of historical fiction to the deeper sensitivity of those who lived the history you study. Thanks so very much 🙂
Florence, wow–what a story you have! Thanks for reading and commenting. 🙂
Florence,
What a wealth of experience, in research and life. Sometime, when I make it to New York, we should definitely have coffee! Thanks for stopping by.
“Gradually, piece-by-piece, you come to an understanding of the world you’re writing about. An understanding that I think, I hope, will seep into the pages of your story and create that feeling of a distinct, unique world. Without burying your reader in detail after detail after detail.”
So true. I’ve had to let go of many fabulously fascinating details. (And I’m sure there are others I should’ve let go of!)
Seep – such an appropriate word to describe what happens when the writer knows that other world.
Thanks for the mention, Becky!
Joyce, you know I love your books! 🙂 Glad you liked that passage-I think, for me, it’s the big goal. Don’t know that I’m QUITE there yet. 🙂
Joyce,
I just requested your book from our library. It sounds amazing; I’m looking forward to reading it!
Oh Christi, I’m so happy to hear that. Hope you enjoy.
Becky,
What I love so much about this post is the reminder that the details help shape the story and give life to the setting of the novel, but they do not have to run the story. I keep thinking about this.
I am writing and researching (researching and writing) about a place in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, and just last night, I reconsidered the timing of a fire that took place in May 1883. While the fire is still significant in my story, moving it around on the timeline better serves the pacing of the novel.
Now that I write that, I wonder if such significant details have to be kept in line?
Christi, that’s one of my big questions. I feel like I want to be as accurate as I can–I do get frustrated when I read a book and something’s been shifted. But I know there are authors who do that and mention it in the notes, so it may just be my taste. In my first rendition of this book (a story that may well be a second book someday!), I had an event that I needed to build the story around. I felt like, yes, I needed to keep it when it was. Does it have to be THIS fire, for your story? Or could it be A fire?
Becky,
You make a good point, that if I do change the timing of it, I definitely need to note that later. But, to answer your question, definitely it has to be “this” fire. Good thing I’m still in the early stages of this first draft, and that my scene cards are easy to move around 🙂
Wonderful post! I’m always amazed by the sheer amount of research historical novelists must put into the process. In my own fiction writing (of the non-historical variety), I’m finding that I’ve done months’ worth of research myself – though of a different nature: visiting ranchers, greenhouses, talking to botanical experts, funeral directors, reading about behavioral institutions for young children… It’s been terribly exciting. But as Becky says, the challenge is not to info-dump on your readers. Thanks for the inspiring post.
Melissa, it’s so true. Even contemporary stories require loads of research. Good for you for putting in the time. Hope you’re loving all that!
Melissa,
I agree with you and Joyce, it doesn’t matter if you write historical fiction or current fiction, research is a part of the process. And, yes, it is fun, especially when you get to delve into areas you might never have visited before. Like funeral homes and directors. I bet there’s a great story there!