Writing an historic novel
Writing an historic novel
Margaret McAllister, author of High Crag Linn tells how she combines facts, legends and storytelling to create her historical novels
I am drafting this article for www.history.uk.com on a train. It's the Manchester train that isn't going to Manchester, because the York train wasn't going to York. I don't know why that happened, but I expect to end up in York eventually. History, research, trains. They take you the long way round, and not always to where you intended to go.
Don't forget York – we'll go back there presently. But my new novel for Lion – High Crag Linn – isn't set in York at all, it's in Northumberland. High Crag Linn has a chequered history.
Something that fascinates me about the past is that we have such limited glimpses into it. We only know what we're told, what has been handed down to us in written or verbal forms, and these might be flawed or partial, or have become changed in the telling. Haven't we all heard married couples correcting each other over stories of events within the last thirty years?
We were on the way to Edinburgh… no, dear, it was Perth, it was the year Chloe broke her arm… and Jane came with us… it was Katie… no, it was Jane, she was wearing that scarf…
if conversations like that take place all the time, with both participants convinced of their own accuracy, how can we be completely sure about what happened hundreds of years ago, especially in communities where few contemporary written records were kept? We can't.
Getting started
Originally, I started from the idea of two contemporary girls who have grown up always knowing the local legend, the story of High Crag Linn, but begin to suspect that it didn't really happen like that at all. They look behind the meaning of the rhyme of High Crag Linn, which has been passed on for five hundred years, and finally work out the truth while their own lives reflect the relationship of two girls in the story, Anna and Thomasin.
That version of the book didn't work. Their was no way the girls could have found any evidence for their theory and there were too many layers in the story. But I always felt that there was a strong story in there, if I could find both the story and the way to tell it.
In between all the other things I was writing, I kept returning to High Crag Linn. Finally, after at least six attempts, the packaging was cleared away and I was left with the story of Anna, Thomasin, Jankin and Falcon, with its conflicts, betrayal, and need to forgive.
I didn't choose the time or the setting. Though I don't live there now I am Northumbrian born and bred, and I grew up with its history, its legends, its atmosphere. Over the river, I took Durham Cathedral for granted. On a day out, castles were part of the landscape. (So was the Roman wall, but I could take or leave that.)
On family days out I explored crumbling castles, and was dragged protesting up Cheviot at an early age. I was steeped in our story, from Aidan of Lindisfarne onwards. High Crag Linn felt Northumbrian. And – and this is always a good guideline for writing an historical story – it could only have happened where and when it did.
High Crag Linn takes place in an area far from the seats of power, in a remote area of the country where the law couldn't always be upheld, and in a time of national upheaval – the end of the Wars of the Roses. The castles of minor local knights could be left poorly defended, and enemies could take advantage.
Any historical story needs to be true to its time and place, or it won't ring true
I'd already researched the history of Northumberland and Durham at a later date, early 17th century, for a previous novel, Hold My Hand and Run. After that there was an as-yet- unpublished novel set at the court of Edward VI, about the king's great friend, Barnaby Fitzpatrick.
It's comparatively easy to research the lives of the wealthy and privileged in the Home Counties, and a lot harder to find out about lowlier communties in the north. It's a question of knowing where to look.
Hold my hand and run is set in the 1600s. This work of historical fiction begins as 13-year-old Kazy and her younger sister, Beth, run away from home. Kazy has decided that their aunt's beatings and abuse have become too much. Their father has been ignoring the situation because he is mourning the death of their mother. Kazy tries to take care of Beth as they run to their mother's family.
Local archives are a treasure chest. Not only are they crammed with information about the local area, I have generally found them to be staffed by knowledgeable people who are in the job because they are even more passionate about the past than you are. It's useful to phone in advance, and tell them what you're looking for – they'll not only tell you whether they have the sort of information you want, they may ask you to let them know when you can come in and they'll have the appropriate books/ records ready for you. Durham Cathedral and Hexham Old Gaol Museum were wonderful.
There is a golden rule, and I can't remember where I heard it – check every fact from at least three different sources (assuming you can find three.) I came upon a story about a 16th century abbot who defied Henry the Eighth's soldiers when they came to demand the abbey for the king. He was hanged at his abbey gate. That story turned up in any number of sources. Then I came across another which claimed that, contrary to the popular story, the abbot wasn't hanged at all. Like many other senior monastics, he was pensioned off, and the writer of this source quoted contemporary records of where he was retired to and what his pension was.
There are two ways of looking at this. Firstly, check and re-check your facts. Secondly, however diligently you check, you may still have a sharp-eyed reader telling you you're wrong. But are you? Remember, history isn't an exact science. Show me an historian and I'll show you a theory.
Research is fascinating. The more you do, the more you'll want to do, so try to keep a focus. Set a date when you'll start writing your story. That doesn't mean that you stop researching – you can write at the same time. It's easier to amass facts than to jump into a story, so you must motivate yourself to start. It may be heresy to say this, but you don't need every detail in place before you start writing. You'll go on learning as you progress, finding out what you still need to know.
You've just written a scene in which your mediaeval boy hero sits down to a meal. You know that he has his own knife to cut up the food, but then you wonder what he does with it when he's finished? Does he clean it? On what? Does he stick it in his belt or does it have a sheath? Make a note in the margin to find out, and go on writing. Then, on your next research session, see if you can find out about cleaning a greasy knife. If you absolutely can't find out, what do you think he would do? And remember, you're inviting the reader into a story, not impressing with your great historical knowledge. Be wary of slipping in references that aren't relevant to the book.
It's not enough to know about your characters' world. You must step into it. Be in their setting. As you write, be aware of their dark, draughty house. What's on the floor – earth, rushes, floorboards, carpet? What do the clothes feel like – heavy, itchy, tight? Immerse yourself in writing. After some time, you need to put the light on/get a drink/go to the loo. If you find yourself looking for a rushlight/a servant/a chamberpot, you're getting it right.
When you've finished, re-read with a sharp eye for detail. If possible, get somebody else who knows the period to check it, too. It's easy to slip in anachronisms. I'm ashamed to say I recently caught one of my characters drinking from a glass when he wouldn't have had one – fortunately I spotted it in time to change it.
Some reader may tell you your facts are all wrong. I repeat – my researches indicate that history isn't an exact science. Remember the bickering couple. Was the abbot hanged, or was he pensioned off? Does the train go to Manchester, or to York? The only records we have are the ones we're allowed to have. Bonfires have crackled on vital documents none of us were ever intended to see.
Yes, the train knows the way to York. What does York mean to you? The Minster, the Railway Museum, the Shambles? Tea Rooms? Margaret Clitheroe, Guy Fawkes, Archbishop Sentamu? Vikings? All very different strands, all stories, and more history than you can shake a crozier at. Good place to start. All the best for your novel.
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