Writing novels set in the 1800s requires hours of research, if the author is to create a realistic, believable world. Although most readers are unaware of the work that goes on behind the scenes to produce a quality product, avid readers of historicals are well acquainted with the period. Anachronisms, at best, pull them out of the story and, at worst, make them put down the book.
Some of the countless questions that must be answered during the plotting and drafting phase are: Was that city a city yet or that state a state? Had ___ been invented? What garments and undergarments did people wear, and how did they fasten? How long did it take for a letter to get from point A to point B? How much was the postage, and who paid it? How far could someone travel on horseback in one day? What about in a covered wagon?
That barely scratches the surface, but you get the idea.
Next is character behavior. If characters don’t act according to the social mores of the time (or have a plausible excuse not to), we risk turning off readers. Of course, we must take our character’s background and circumstances into consideration, but generally speaking, people were rarely on a first name basis with each other as we are today, and they dressed very modestly. Conversations were rather formal. Many words that are commonplace now were not said in mixed company, e.g. the term ‘limb’ was used because ‘leg’ was considered vulgar.
Bottom line: If you plop a character into a historical setting then have him or her behave as if it’s the 21st century, you’re going to lose readers.
As should be obvious from the previous vocabulary example, we can’t assume that a word or phrase that is used today was used then. Once the writing begins, we must scrutinize every word. I check anything suspicious with an etymology dictionary. If it wasn’t coined yet, it almost always gets cut. Rare exceptions are creative license decisions, such as using ‘okay’ in place of the period-correct ‘O.K.,’ because the correct term would be more distracting to readers than the anachronism.
And then there’s
The Tiffany Problem to consider, when readers think a name or word that has been used correctly is a mistake. (Yes, ‘crepe’ really was spelled ‘crape’ in regard to mourning attire.) Oy.
My latest western historical romance, Battered Pride is set in southern Oregon Territory (early 1850s), in what is modern-day southwest Idaho. Prior to the opening scene, the heroine and her husband traveled west and registered for a land grant. The law required them to cultivate the grant for four years and build the necessary structures to gain ownership. By the time the hero encounters the heroine, she has been widowed and is struggling to do that on her own.
Obviously, I studied period farming practices and land grant laws for the story, but a large chunk of my research centered around the Mojave Indians. The hero in Battered Pride is half Mojave, half white and was raised among the clan. To write authentically from his POV, I had to learn all I could about that culture.
I read everything I could get my hands on. I studied the clan’s way of life, their religious beliefs and practices, and more. I was surprised to learn that some aspects of Mojave culture were different from other Native American tribes. They constructed permanent dwellings, and they had relaxed views on marriage and sexuality.
My best find was an English-Mojave dictionary in a UCLA paper on linguistics. Not only did that allow me to include some Mojave words and phrases in the story, but the definitions in the Mojave-to-English portion mentioned interesting details I did not find elsewhere—such as the fact the Mojave would bury hot coals under a woman’s bed mat to ease menstrual cramps.
The research aspect of writing historical novels is time consuming, but it’s also interesting, and even thrilling when you happen upon a hidden gem. Some of the best scenes in my western series were inspired by research.
