Top Five Ways Historical Writers Go Wrong

Writing any book is tough enough, but stepping back in time to create characters from previous centuries presents a yawning trap for today's writers. As an author myself, I struggle with anachronisms -- for instance, I only recently learned that the term "grandfather clock" wasn't in common use until the late 1800s -- after an 1876 song called "My Grandfather's Clock" became popular. Before that, they were called "longcase clocks.")

But it isn't just material goods that create problems for historical writers. Here are the top five ways we all tend to get it wrong:

Using modern speech. We’re so used to our ordinary way of talking that modern expressions often slip into our characters’ dialogue and thoughts. While expressions like “Get a grip” and “I haven’t got a clue” are pretty obvious, others aren’t quite so easy to weed out. Like the nineteenth-century character who tells his grandson, “I don’t like the people you’re hanging around with.” Or the narrator of a novel set in 1066 who says, “They took off into the woods.” Or the Regency heroine who says the hero has derailed her train of thought – before trains and rails were commonplace. Or a hero from the 1820s who says, “I didn’t come here to be analyzed like some patient in a mental asylum” – 70 years before Sigmund Freud developed psychoanalysis. A more subtle (but still disconcerting) example is the heroine who says to the hero, “You think everything is all about you, Your Grace.” 

Including modern attitudes. Far too often in romance fiction, people who were supposedly born and reared in the 1300s or the 1500s or the 1800s think and talk and behave as though they just stepped out of Starbucks holding a latte. It’s true that in order to appeal to today’s reader, main characters tend to be more modern in outlook than their real life peers would have been. But when characters don’t even stop and think about it before they spout today’s perspectives on things like religion, lifestyles and women’s rights, or when they display today’s understanding of psychology, hygiene, nutrition, and medicine, it’s tough to make the reader believe they’re real.

Messing up titles. The most common error when it comes to using aristocratic titles is using the wrong form of address, or using multiple forms of address for the same person. Lady Sarah Winchester isn’t the same person as Lady Winchester is. (Lady Sarah is the daughter of a peer, Lady Winchester is Lord Winchester’s wife.) Lord Winchester isn’t the same person as Lord Randolph Winchester. (Lord Randolph Winchester is the younger son of a duke or a marquess, Lord Winchester is the big cheese himself.) Sir James Smythe is always Sir James, not Sir Smythe. When the author doesn’t realize there’s a big difference between variations which seem so small, it’s easy to dismiss the story entirely.

 Not understanding the rules of inheritance. In the eras most commonly used in historical fiction, illegitimate sons could not inherit titles – period. Oldest sons could not be bypassed in favor of younger ones. Daughters could not pass along titles, except for a very few cases by royal decree. Most often, all the land and money was left to the eldest son. I remember an author who made her heroine a duchess… but not by having her marry a duke, which would be the only way for her to achieve that rank. Instead, this heroine got her title because her grandmother, who was the previous duchess, abdicated and bypassed her daughter in favor of her granddaughter. That’s at least three kinds of impossible.

Just plain getting it wrong. Why bother to look it up when we can make it up? It’s tempting to assume that our vague recollection of the timeline is accurate, or figure that if some other historical author used it, we don’t need to check for ourselves.

A few prize-winning examples: The Regency hero and heroine who honeymooned on an ocean liner – decades before ocean travel started to be comfortable. The maid who says to her mistress, “It’s chilly; you should wear your wool kid gloves” – they can’t be both wool and leather. The hero and heroine who run away from a London ball to Gretna Green, arriving there early the next morning – but traveling 320 miles took at least 36 hours in those days. A Regency hero and heroine who get married at St. George’s Cathedral – St. George’s Hanover Square is a simple parish church, not a cathedral.

This trap yawns equally wide for authors writing in other historical periods. Take a Viking romance which refers to potatoes – five centuries before they were introduced to Europe. Or a story set in 1949 where the narrator says, “He passed out after we hit the interstate” – years before the interstate highway system was even proposed.

Some of these things sound pretty obvious when we look at them in a list. But beware – they can sneak up and attack us when we’re not paying attention.

This blog was first posted on Sitting on the Porch with Kelly, hosted by author Kelly Abell. 

Top Ten --Er, Six -- Pet Peeves in Historical Romances

I admit it, I'm a fan of historical romance. Always have been, even long before I started writing it. But I have to say there are some things that drive me straight round the bend and make me toss a book aside...

1. Getting the titles wrong. Lady Sarah Winchester isn't the same person as Lady Winchester is, and when the author gets it wrong, it's easy to dismiss the story entirely.

(Here's the skinny on how to handle dukes ... marquesses ... viscounts ... barons ... and baronets.) 

2. Getting the succession wrong. Inheritance of money is one thing, titles are another. Illegitimate sons could not inherit titles, period. Oldest sons could not be bypassed in favor of younger ones. Daughters could not pass along titles at all (there are a very few exceptions, by royal decree).

3. Getting the geography wrong. London to Gretna Green is 320 miles. Even if you figure an average speed of 10 miles per hour for a team of horses (and that would be tough to maintain over time, what with having to stop to change teams every few miles), it was impossible to do the trip in a day, much less overnight, during the Georgian or Regency eras. Which was the entire point, of course, since by the time a couple had been together and alone for such a long journey, the girl's reputation was ruined and irreparable. 

4. 21^st century characters who turn up in historical time periods. I don't mean modern-day characters who time travel. I mean people who were supposedly born and reared in the 1300s, or the 1500s, or the 1800s, but who think and act and talk and behave as though they just stepped out of Starbucks holding a latte and an iPhone, complete with modern sensibilities and politically-correct attitudes.

5. Magically-survivable injuries. Before modern antibiotics, being shot in the abdomen was pretty much a death sentence. There are real-life stories of survivors, yes, but they’re remembered because they were rare. Concussions were just as serious then as they are now, and being hit over the head hard enough to cause unconsciousness for a period of time is likely to lead to bleeding in the brain and death, not a nice long sleep and then waking up feeling just fine and remembering everything. (Author Eileen Dreyer, who was a trauma nurse before writing thrillers, does some great seminar sessions on medicine in historical eras and how authors get it wrong.)

6. Trusting other authors to get it right. I swear I’ve read a historical novel where the hero complained about the heroine feeding him pablum – but when I checked, I discovered that particular baby formula was invented in the 1930s instead. Oops.

What about you? What are your pet peeves, the things that make you toss a book aside? Please share!

All About Earls

Next in line of importance in the aristocracy, after dukes and marquesses, are earls. Most of them are the Earl OF something, but a few are like Earl Spencer, Princess Diana's father --who was not the Earl of Spencer. (And that's why a few American reporters have gotten all messed up when interviewing Diana's brother, the current holder of the title, thinking that his first name is Earl.)

In most cases, the earldom is the main and most prominent title that a gentleman holds, and it's inherited from a near male relative (father, brother, uncle). When the previous earl dies, then the new one succeeds to the rights and responsibilities and property of the title. Through most of history, that included a seat in the House of Lords, the upper chamber of Great Britain's Parliament.

Occasionally, a duke or a marquess is also an earl, and in that case his oldest son may use the title of Earl of Whatever as an honorary title.

An earl's wife is the Countess of Whatever. Why isn't she called ...I don't know, maybe an Earl-ess? (And that's probably enough of an answer right there! Who'd want to be known as an ear-less?) Actually it's because an earl and a count -- or in France, a comte -- are roughly equivalent. However, when William the Conqueror arrived from Normandy in 1066 to take over England, bringing a new order of aristocracy with him, the older Saxon title of Earl stuck.

The oldest son of an earl carries one of his father's lesser titles as an honorary title; he's generally a viscount or a baron. The younger sons are not titled and are formally referred to as The Honorable Firstname Lastname -- in person, they're called Mr. Lastname. This is one of the few times that being female carries an advantage, because all the daughters of an earl are referred to as Lady Firstname Lastname. And like the daughter of a duke, an earl's daughter maintains her rank as a lady even if she marries a commoner. If she marries someone with a title, then she generally uses the rank she acquires through marriage, rather than the one she has from birth.

(Which reminds me -- someday we really must take up the discussion of whether "Princess Diana" was ever her real title -- even before her divorce!)

Marquess Madness

Second in aristocratic rank to a duke is a marquess (occasionally marquis), and often the oldest son of a duke is known as the Marquess of Something because that's one of his father's lesser titles. But a marquess can also hold the title in his own right; in history when earls have provided great service to the sovereign they're often rewarded with a higher title -- sometimes they're made a marquess, and sometimes they're jumped all the way up to being a duke.

The wife of a Marquess is a Marchioness. Their eldest son uses one of his father's lesser titles as a courtesy, so the son of a marquess is sometimes an earl -- but one without personal power.

A Marquess is addressed as My Lord, or Your Lordship, and if he's the Marquess of Sheridan he's referred to as Lord Sheridan.

The younger sons of a marquess are -- like the sons of dukes -- known as Lord Firstname Lastname, and all the daughters of a marquess are Lady Firstname Lastname. They can be referred to in person as Lord Firstname or Lady Firstname.