people take 'Write about what you know' to mean only write about what is in your immediate experience,

I don't know about anyone else on WW, but if I did that mine would be a very dull book.

When people begin to write, and they're not used to imagining things far away (in all senses) from themselves, then it's sensible to use their own living, breathing experience as a source of living-and-breathing writing. It's a good place to acquire that judgement about what's alive in writing and what's dead. Later on, it should go on simply as a measure: 'is this as alive as it would be if I was writing about my own experience?' Which is why I think I'll go on thinking (and wittering on in forums) about 'write about what you can make real' because that definition stretches outwards as you get better.

Which is really what you're saying, I think, Jon - in research, what you come to 'know' in the true sense expands.

Emma

A recent example of a book I read which was meticulously researched was Saturday by Ian McEwan. It follows a day in the life of a neurosurgeon - in my opinion, there is a lot of info dump in this novel but he gets away with it with the strong ideas pushing the novel forward. He spent two years following a neurosurgeon around - now my question is - is such a degree of research really necessary to create a realistic believable character? Who the hell is going to pop up and say - ah, a neurosurgeon wouldn't have approved that particular piece of surgery? Why the obsession with getting the facts right if it does not add to the plot? I don't understand it. If that's what makes a good novel, then I might as well spend two years following a builder around and studying his life and making a character out of him...Am I making sense?

Why the obsession with getting the facts right if it does not add to the plot? I don't understand it.

I don't know about McEwan, but it's one form that procrastination can take which feels more like writing than redecorating the house does, without actually having to do it.

Emma

Hi Traveller,

I have not read Saturday, but when I saw the reviews and subsequent interview, where McEwen revealed that he had spent two years following a neurosurgeon around, I reacted with visceral distaste. McEwen's approach is akin to an extreme form of method acting. Here I think Olivier's put down of Hoffman's method acting comes into play: "Try acting, dear boy". In this case it would need to be recast as: "Try using your imagination, dear boy".

Still, I suppose the research was not too painful: lots of agreeable dinner parties with agreeable professional types. I would respect McEwen much more if he ever wrote about subjects beyond his upper-middle class circle and what he can see from his metropolitan study window. The demonstration in Saturday - the one in Feb 2003 against the imminent Iraq war - was a matter of deadly importance to those who participated in it; even more so to those unfortunates on the receiving end of 'Shock and Awe' and all the terrible consequences that followed from it. I despair sometimes when I see writers of his calibre studying the colour of their own navel fluff; meanwhile the world around them is in flames.

Ahem…seem to have lost my composure there. You’ll gather I’m not a fan of obsessive research.

Tony


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Got so carried away I even misspelled McEwan.

Tony, thanks for bringing up method acting - it was something I was considering a mention earlier on.

Emma, that is indeed my point - you can only write about what you know because otherwise the cracks show. Whether you know it before the plot arrives or come to know it through research is largely by the by. That said, I'm pretty certain that phrase is usually meant as 'write about what you're familiar with from your own life' so this analysis may be a little devious

Jon

Yep for one second I thought I had misspelled his name - almost asked my colleague to fish out a copy of Saturday!
That's an interesting perspective - I totally agree. It's so easy for him to come from his middle-class perspective and I think this is what publishes love to publish - anything that mirrors their own cosy lifestyle.

It's so easy for him to come from his middle-class perspective and I think this is what publishes love to publish - anything that mirrors their own cosy lifestyle.

You might say this was a powerful argument against the write-what-you-know school of thought.

I haven't read Saturday, but I have read Atonement, and cosy is fairly close to the last the word that I'd use to describe it.

Emma

Emma,

The 'English' longbow originated in South Wales where it was made of elm. The bowmen from North Wales were said to be the better marksmen.

The 'men of Kent' were regarded as the 'bowmen of England' and the longbow material changed to yew; but English yew was found to be inferior to that imported from Spain and Italy.

Cymro, The last thing you want to do is to show readers that 'you have done your research'. You need to create images, pictures, impression of the period you are writing about, enough to draw your readers into those times. to make it all real and authentic to them. Your readers should not have to question any research unless, as Fredegonde mentions, facts, points and observations from the writer's reearch are used to illustrate how clever or accurate the writer has been, by which time you will have lost your reader.

Wonderful sources of research have been mentioned. I would just add, don't forget the picture libraries, Newspapers and Magazines of the decades you mention, 'Picture Post' would be an invaluable source. It all depends on what you want to find out.

Len

Len, I'm impressed! I did know that about the bows from South and many of the archers from North Wales, and the other county that the most came from was apparently Cumbria (who were still pretty Welsh at that date anyway). According to John Keegan, as the bow is a 'very demanding technology', the most skilled users of it tend to come from from pastoral rather than agricultural societies, as keeping an eye on the animals leaves more leisure for practicing than plouging fields does.

Emma

Thanks for the title, Emma! The book sounds very interesting. Is it very big, though? (Just wondering about the postage, as it would obviously be a bit more abroad.)

We're about making a world - any world - real, and a story compelling, and whatever it takes, and whatever it doesn't need, is right for it.

Wise words -- couldn't agree more! 'Would I put the equivalent in, if the story were contemporary?' is a good criterion, and that's more or less what I ask myself, too. (I'm especially relieved to hear that a published historical novelist feels the way I do about this )

But as we're speaking of research and its results, what do you think about changing facts, not out of ignorance but, well, wilfully? I'm thinking of the film Elizabeth -- I was prepared to like it, with such a great cast and fine production values, but I ended up wondering why they bothered to pretend it was about Elizabeth at all. What I find especially odd is that the known facts are so much more dramatic and interesting than this meandering mess of a storyline. Of course I can understand certain types of changes, like condensing the time frame, and I'm not looking for complete realism (I would prefer not to see rotten teeth on a romantic hero, for example ). But historical fiction and especially (Hollywood) films often take strange liberties that seem to have a point of some kind, but I confess I've never discovered what the point is, as I've always found more drama and human interest in the facts behind the distortion. So I suppose what I'm trying to ask here is, Is there a point? And if so, could someone please tell me what it is? (However, I'm not talking about well thought-out 'what if' scenarios, like Shakespeare in Love.)

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(And speaking of Atonement -- I just read that it's going to be filmed -- with Keira Knightley as Briony! I admit I can't really see that, but then I couldn't see Knightley as Elizabeth Bennet either, and I was pleasantly surprised there, so I'm keeping an open mind...)

Fredegonde, the book isn't huge - biggish but not particularly thick and 700g by the kitchen scales.

The business of the relationship of historical fiction writers to historical fact is probably what my PhD dissertation is going to be about. I think it's insoluble, but the more you know about a period, I suspect the less happpy you'll be with versions about it, but the difficulty is that different things jar on different people - you mind the politics being wrong, someone else will mind about the horse harnesses, or the language. I actually loved Elizabeth because the atmosphere was so electric and Kate Blanchett was brilliant, and it wasn't your usual take on the period, though I absolutely agree that they took huge liberties with the facts, (and I'm hampered by the fact that I can't bear Joseph Fiennes - who's the only thing wrong with Shakespeare in Love, too. If it had been Ralph, now...) Is it significant that apparently the director hadn't heard of her when he read the script?

I went to the Historical Novel Society conference and was suprised and slightly horrified by how strongly everyone felt that everything must be dead accurate, to the point where I felt there'd be no room for imagination. Whereas I write history because that's where my imagination works best. So many of the readers were obviously getting their history fix (having been put off the real thing at school) by having it moulded into a palatable form with more pretty frocks and gory battles than you get in a text book. Now that, to me, is what historical fiction shouldn't be.

Emma

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Now that, to me, is what historical fiction shouldn't be.

Sorry, that's much to prescriptive, and I didn't mean to be so dogmatic. What I meant was, that's not what I'm trying to do, and not a kind of hist. fic. that I'm interested in reading.

Emma

James,
I recently went to see the writer Sara Waters talking about her latest book, The Night Watch, which is set during WW2.
She talked very interestingly about the fact that with her previous Victorian novels, she couldn't be 'caught out' by people who lived in that era and was terrified about getting anything wrong in this one. Aside from talking to people, she said one thing she found helpful was to read lots of novels written in the 1940s. These didn't so much give her facts and details, but more a flavour of how people were feeling then. She came away with the impression that there was often a very low-key,unemotional style, as though the real life horrors were just too awful to be used in fiction. Was wondering if 1950s novels and of course films would help?
Emma - I like your point that it's not history to the people in the book! Very true and important.
And just on the Saturday discussion, I think I have banged on tediously about this before but I'm usually a fan of his and I loathed that book. I definitely felt he had learned lots about neurosurgery and was bloody well getting it in there, thanks very much. Frankly, I got to the stage when I just thought, 'Oh stop wittering you boring, posh git.'
BTW - anyone else read the Waters book? I thought it was incredibly involving and moving.

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James, sorry, misread that your book was only in the 50s.

I definitely felt he had learned lots about neurosurgery and was bloody well getting it in there, thanks very much.

I loved Atonement, though it's very flawed, but even there he occasionally teetered on the edge of too much info dump.

This kind of thing makes you wonder if he's being edited toughly enough. With someone who's as prestigious and as sure-fire a seller as him, it must be hard for an editor - specially maybe a new one - to face up to him and say, 'sorry, it's not just the odd tweak it needs; far too much of this really doesn't work at the moment'. On the other hand his agent should.

Emma

Emma
I know Saturday got plenty of criticism, but I've come across several people who loved it. I find this baffling, which probably doesn't come as a great surprise!

got plenty of criticism, but I've come across several people who loved it

Anyone who's had one of those 'it's absolutely great but I personally didn't love it quite enough' rejections should (but is raging/weeping too hard to) remember just how wide a range of reactions any given book can receive. I suppose we shouldn't be surprised when agents are like that too.

The Night Watch is on my list for when I've finished my own - even the thought makes my mouth water. Her point about people still being alive is an interesting one. Half of TMOL is set in 1976, when I was a not very grown-up 12, and I was surprised how much I had to research on behalf of my very grown-up 15yr old MC. I know Helen Dunmore felt with The Siege that she must tread very carefully, because it was real people's lives that she was dealing with, even if they're dead (and some weren't when she was researching it)

Emma