I like to consider myself a very versatile writer, at least in terms of genre. But cannot deny that I have a favorite—one that I write in most often and feel the most comfortable writing in. That genre is historical fiction.
There’s something of a satisfying challenge in writing about the past, at least for me. Problems in the past (illness, crime, transportation, or even just simple communication) were not as easily solved as they are today. It was a more difficult time, which makes, I think, for much more interesting stories. But writing in the historical fiction genre sometimes proves more difficult than one might think. First there is the question of historical accuracy; if one’s story isn’t accurate to the time period, it can come off as unbelievable—or worse, as sloppy writing. But this can be easily fixed with a little bit of research. What’s more difficult to pin down, however, is writing effective dialogue for a piece of historical fiction.
I first encountered this problem in a junior year creative writing class. I was discussing a draft of a historical piece with my instructor, and she said to me: “I think you need to be a little more careful with your dialogue. There are a lot of contractions here. Your characters sound out-of-place.” She suggested that I eliminate contractions (like I’m, I’ll, won’t, etc.) from my dialogue and from my historical writing as a whole. And for a while, I took that advice as law. But as I continued to avoid contractions, something about my writing started seeming off to me. The dialogue didn’t sound real to me. It sounded stinted and forced.
Sometimes it didn’t really matter. There’s no huge difference between a character saying “Very well, I’ll go,” and “Very well, I will go.” Similarly, the difference between “Perhaps it doesn’t suit me” and “Perhaps it does not suit me” is very small. But when one looks at a sentence like “Yes sir, I promise I will go, although I do not understand” as compared to “Yes sir, I promise I’ll go, although I don’t understand” the difference in flow and tone is fairly obvious. The language sounds more formal, yes, and perhaps a little more dated without contractions. But it also makes the speaker sound like a robot. Whether my characters live in the year 1814 or in 2014, they are still people, and sometimes people shorten their words up a bit. And because I think that realism is important in dialogue (in any genre, not just historical fiction), I figured I needed to include contractions, if only just a little. The trick I’ve found is not to eliminate contractions entirely, but to balance them out in the dialogue with un-contracted words.
I say this like it’s an easy thing, but I assure you it’s not. I still sometimes tiptoe my way through period dialogue, worriedly wondering to myself are there too many contractions in this thing? But the struggle is worth the effect. Besides, I’ve found that a lack of contractions is not the only way to establish that historical feeling– throwing in a well-placed, archaic word here and there can also do the trick! And even though there’s no way to back in time to see how people of the past really talked (and how many contractions they used per sentence), we authors have the advantage of living in an age full of literature, film, and other media from many different time periods to clue us in on how characters from the past might speak. These are just a few ways to figure out what works*. In my much less than expert opinion, a combination of research and intuition can give an author a feel of accuracy when writing historical fiction.
**If anyone else has any methods that work for them, feel free to leave a comment! I’d be happy to hear it and to discuss!
The Stylish C 