charlie_cochrane (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
charlie_cochrane) wrote2010-07-28 12:40 pm
charlie_cochrane) wrote2010-07-28 12:40 pm
Entry tags:
Writing historical stories part the first
Last year I ran a workshop about writing historical fiction. I'm reproducing it here over the next few weeks.
1. Why ‘Chariots of Fire’ works and ‘The Vikings’ doesn’t
From the moment we see those young men running along the sands in their old-fashioned costumes, we know that we’re in another time and another place. Subtle details and broad strokes – costumes, dialogue, the sporting jackets and the cut glass accents – all combine to produce an atmosphere which suggests we’re actually looking back in time. We know it can’t be so, we know that outside the studio sets it’s the end of the 1970’s, but our minds have been transported back to just after WWI. ‘Chariots of Fire’ works its magic.
What about ‘The Vikings’? Well, I certainly know where I am when I watch that film. Hollywood. And if not in Tinsel Town itself then out with a location crew. No Viking ever talked or looked like Tony Curtis or Kirk Douglas, I’d bet my shirt on that; they’re too clean, too American, too implausible. It’s an amusing romp, but convincing it isn’t.
Now, granted, films have a great advantage over books in that they paint a setting and era within seconds, giving visual and audio clues to where and when we’re supposed to be (we’ll come to how books do it later) but the same truth holds. If you want to create a convincing setting you have to work hard at both the bigger canvas and the little details. An excellent example would be the Sherlock Homes TV series starring Jeremy Brett or some of the wonderful portrayals of late Victorian/Edwardian/pre-WW1 life that the BBC turns out.
Handy Tip Number 1: I’d go so far as saying that watching a good UK produced series set in the era you want to portray would be a great place to start creating the right atmosphere. (Think BBC or a Merchant Ivory film.) Drink in those sumptuous costumes and the old fashioned architecture. Notice the layout of the buildings and rooms (many of these productions are made in authentic locations and give a pretty good representation of contemporary styles). Start to create a world in your head which your characters can inhabit – put them there, see how they look, what they wear, how they talk and what they do. Let the story roll out as a movie and then put that movie into words.
Another thing books and films have in common is that, no matter how hard you work to create an authentic world, a couple of whacking great anachronisms will destroy that world entirely. I don’t mean little details (like whether Cambridge railway station has a bridge or a tunnel to connect the platforms) I mean those Norman style castles in ‘The Vikings’, which pop up hundreds of years too early. Or having your English Edwardian gentleman out in the street using language which sounds like it comes from modern day New York, then swearing like a trooper in front of the ladies. It wouldn’t have been done. Alright, maybe that’s stating the obvious, but if that same gentleman hadn’t been wearing his hat in public and hadn’t raised it to said ladies, it would probably have been just as shocking. Manners were different in the past and portraying those different manners immediately adds to the ambience.
Time for a practical example. It wasn’t just manners which were different, so were social mores and even the sanitation arrangements.
Imagine – in your latest tale - that an English Edwardian wicked squire has cornered the local schoolmistress in the cottage she shares with her bedridden mother. This plucky girl locks herself in the toilet to escape his attentions, but how does she get there? If you’ve written that she ran along the hall and through the door then you’ve got it wrong. Most small houses had outside toilets in those days (my aunt and uncle still did in the 1970’s) so she would have had to run along the garden path. A little point, but getting it right adds greatly to the correct atmosphere of your story; it’s the details which matter. Get them wrong at your peril.
This would be a good time to break for any questions you might have, although I’ll ask you one first. What’s the anachronism in this? Your Regency heroine is crossing Westminster Bridge over the Thames when she hears Big Ben strike the hour.
1. Why ‘Chariots of Fire’ works and ‘The Vikings’ doesn’t
From the moment we see those young men running along the sands in their old-fashioned costumes, we know that we’re in another time and another place. Subtle details and broad strokes – costumes, dialogue, the sporting jackets and the cut glass accents – all combine to produce an atmosphere which suggests we’re actually looking back in time. We know it can’t be so, we know that outside the studio sets it’s the end of the 1970’s, but our minds have been transported back to just after WWI. ‘Chariots of Fire’ works its magic.
What about ‘The Vikings’? Well, I certainly know where I am when I watch that film. Hollywood. And if not in Tinsel Town itself then out with a location crew. No Viking ever talked or looked like Tony Curtis or Kirk Douglas, I’d bet my shirt on that; they’re too clean, too American, too implausible. It’s an amusing romp, but convincing it isn’t.
Now, granted, films have a great advantage over books in that they paint a setting and era within seconds, giving visual and audio clues to where and when we’re supposed to be (we’ll come to how books do it later) but the same truth holds. If you want to create a convincing setting you have to work hard at both the bigger canvas and the little details. An excellent example would be the Sherlock Homes TV series starring Jeremy Brett or some of the wonderful portrayals of late Victorian/Edwardian/pre-WW1 life that the BBC turns out.
Handy Tip Number 1: I’d go so far as saying that watching a good UK produced series set in the era you want to portray would be a great place to start creating the right atmosphere. (Think BBC or a Merchant Ivory film.) Drink in those sumptuous costumes and the old fashioned architecture. Notice the layout of the buildings and rooms (many of these productions are made in authentic locations and give a pretty good representation of contemporary styles). Start to create a world in your head which your characters can inhabit – put them there, see how they look, what they wear, how they talk and what they do. Let the story roll out as a movie and then put that movie into words.
Another thing books and films have in common is that, no matter how hard you work to create an authentic world, a couple of whacking great anachronisms will destroy that world entirely. I don’t mean little details (like whether Cambridge railway station has a bridge or a tunnel to connect the platforms) I mean those Norman style castles in ‘The Vikings’, which pop up hundreds of years too early. Or having your English Edwardian gentleman out in the street using language which sounds like it comes from modern day New York, then swearing like a trooper in front of the ladies. It wouldn’t have been done. Alright, maybe that’s stating the obvious, but if that same gentleman hadn’t been wearing his hat in public and hadn’t raised it to said ladies, it would probably have been just as shocking. Manners were different in the past and portraying those different manners immediately adds to the ambience.
Time for a practical example. It wasn’t just manners which were different, so were social mores and even the sanitation arrangements.
Imagine – in your latest tale - that an English Edwardian wicked squire has cornered the local schoolmistress in the cottage she shares with her bedridden mother. This plucky girl locks herself in the toilet to escape his attentions, but how does she get there? If you’ve written that she ran along the hall and through the door then you’ve got it wrong. Most small houses had outside toilets in those days (my aunt and uncle still did in the 1970’s) so she would have had to run along the garden path. A little point, but getting it right adds greatly to the correct atmosphere of your story; it’s the details which matter. Get them wrong at your peril.
This would be a good time to break for any questions you might have, although I’ll ask you one first. What’s the anachronism in this? Your Regency heroine is crossing Westminster Bridge over the Thames when she hears Big Ben strike the hour.