You’ve finished writing your novel and are excited to share it with readers, but before you look for reviews, bloggers, podcasts, or book clubs to get the word out, take time to consider your cover. A great design will entice readers to click on it or pick it up whether the book sits on a shelf or is displayed on a website.

I’d like to suggest you think about your book as an invitation to a wonderful shared meal. The cover serves as a door to the party, giving readers a feeling about what they’ll find inside—a formal do with candles and aperitifs, a raucous music-filled soiree, or a casual back-yard barbecue.

As to the actual design, preparation can make your vision concrete. For those self-publishing, that vision will guide you or your designer; for those with a traditional publisher, you will have less control. However, it can’t hurt to communicate with the design team about the cover of your dreams.

Before we look at six aspects of your cover, a small assignment to focus your thoughts. Jot down five adjectives that describe your book and tape them on the wall where you can see them. Then give yourself a new mantra: three seconds. That is the amount of time readers scanning for a new book spend on each cover. Three seconds to catch an eye, to be memorable.

Image

While you were writing, you may have imagined your main character on the cover, a historical figure perhaps, or a woman comforting a child or a suave man in a tuxedo. Or perhaps you pictured an important object like a queen’s seal or a bent fork.

First ideas can be the best, but before deciding, take some time to explore.

In your browser, search for books like yours, i.e. “Renaissance novels” or “Historical Romance.” Copy the covers you love and paste them into a document. Now scan the display, asking yourself these questions.

Does a visual theme stand out? For historical fiction, the figure of a woman in period dress facing away into the book’s location has been popular. The popularity indicates that it sells, so you may want to join the crowd. Or you may choose a different path. Either can be right. One note: if you search online for a perfect image, keep in mind the copyright. A little care can save you heartache.

Do you like faces or objects? Abstract images or reality? Allusive or direct? There’s no right or wrong, just a sense of what makes visible your story.

Note, it’s perhaps best to avoid AI generated images. Many readers sense them and will find them inauthentic.

Write down your answers, then compare them to your list of adjectives.

Color

Now go a step further. The next time you’re in a bookstore (that’s often, right?), take a look at the spines. Are they all black? Hard to read? Because chances are your book will be shelved at some point, spine out. Don’t lose your advantage.

Choose two colors, write them down, and compare them to your adjectives.

Font

Match the various looks to your adjectives. If you don’t see any fonts that suit, repeat the exercise, adding books to your list.

Movement

Your story isn’t static. There’s tension, the characters change, events propel the plot forward. So the cover should likewise move.

If your chosen image has inherent motion—a dancing flapper, a warrior with a sword—lucky you. If it’s a face, tension can be inserted by pushing the face close, partially screening features, or angling and cropping the image. A swipe of unusual color can also add tension, as can the placement of the title.

You may want to add a couple of cover examples to your page to express this.

Size

Instagram’s sizing can be difficult, and if you want an audible book, those designs are square. Being aware can save later difficulties.

Back

Make it delicious. Easy to digest. In other words succinct and colorful. Start with your best elevator speech—a descriptive couple of sentences you’d use to hook a reader in a brief encounter between floors.

Add praise and/or reviews. Despite the recent decision by Simon and Schuster to forego blurbs, they can be helpful if well chosen.

Finally, spice up all the verbiage with a couple of small images that reflect the front. A tuxedo tie; a graceful silhouette.

Your time has been well spent; you now have a list of adjectives, sample book covers, image types, colors, fonts, and verbiage to give your designer. Or to use yourself. These are merely guidelines. Let creativity flow.

Wishing you excellent sales.

All historical novels, perhaps all novels, blur the edges of fact and fiction. Our characters inhabit places and periods defined by known geography and history, sometimes in very specific ways (say mediaeval York, or the reign of a particular monarch). But why do so many fiction-writers (including some very big names; Mantel, Chevalier, Harris) choose to create a novel out of an existing life story?

Mostly I think because we see something in that story that hasn’t been told before, something to explore, to uncover or to celebrate. Maybe you have some personal connection to the subject or are party to something that other people don’t know, or you glimpse an unsung character on the fringes of that life who may have exerted unknown power or influence. At any rate, once that subject has caught your eye, you want to bring this story not to readers of biography or history, but to your particular audience, fans of historical fiction.

Pleasure

So, you have your inspiration and you’re off to a flying start. I can predict, for fairly obvious reasons, that the first few chapters, maybe the first draft, will be plain sailing:

• This is a ‘found story’ with characters, settings and plot ready-made.
• Research is a joy: there may well be extensive primary sources to mine, maybe even surviving eyewitnesses to contact, as well as published biographies and other research, all directly relevant.
• Even if your subject is more obscure (with extra freedom to be creative!) there will almost certainly be some group of enthusiasts you can join. Instead of toiling alone, you’re suddenly part of a family who share your obsession (something I’ve written about here).
• Our research contacts form the backbone of our intended audience. We may have a readymade readership that could be huge and possibly international. Publishers are likely to take note.

Pain

Almost as soon as you fire up the keyboard, you step into the hornet’s nest of daring to write fiction ‘based on’ fact. Worries of this kind occur at every level:

• Very few life stories are tailormade for fiction. You know your subject is worthy of a novel, but what if that narrative arc fails to emerge? What is this story exactly, and how much freedom can you exercise to produce a satisfying reader experience without compromising ‘history’?
• On a smaller scale, your ongoing research (once you have started how can you ever give up?) may throw up the unexpected; dates, places, events are not as you thought. Do you ignore these googlies or redraft to stay true to the facts?
• In the end, when our book is published, that interested audience may withdraw their support, leaving historical experts, fellow fans or even surviving relatives lining up to challenge your account.

Suddenly this biographical project doesn’t feel like such a good idea!

Sensible precautions

If you still want to do this, what steps can you take to avoid disaster? First of all, I would recommend you choose your subject(s) carefully. I personally would avoid those with close relatives still around, unless they have sanctioned the project or you are very confident of your sources.

I would go so far as to say, be mindful of people’s feelings. In a note to his literary successors, Robert Louis Stevenson said , ‘it is never worthwhile to inflict pain upon a snail for any literary purpose.’ Readers might justifiably take your version as fact. Imagine if your book were the new The Crown. Would it inflict any pain? Could you justify it?

The closer we come to the present day, the more likely we are to offend, and in the case of recent history or current affairs, it’s common to differentiate between people who lived in the public spotlight (fair game for exposing or debunking?) and those who’ve lived more private lives, but while this could hold good for more distant history, let’s not forget that historical figures, famous or obscure, aren’t around to defend themselves. You’ll have to decide on the ethics of putting someone in the spotlight, for better or for worse.

Here are some more practical tips:

• Be transparent! Historical notes are your friends. Here you explain the history and where you have deviated from it. I was impressed by a recent read which put all of this at the front of the book rather than the back, giving transparency from the outset (assuming you can do this without spoilers!)
• Create a diversion! Suppose everything is just too complicated and worrying, or the story doesn’t quite work? Would it be better to change the character names and abandon your biographical intention for something that tells the same story without referencing your real hero/heroine directly? An excellent example of this is Tom Crewe’s The New Life, where character names are changed only slightly to allow creative freedom.

A balancing act

On the other hand, I have read biographical novels that feel clunky because too much history shows through. By pleasing the cognoscenti you may end up losing sight of your story, and a story is what readers of fiction want.

It comes down, I suppose, (and this applies to all of historical fiction) to the scale and significance of the changes made. I don’t think anyone objects in principle to our playing with might-have-beens, the detail of scenes and conversations which history has failed to relay to us. Changing a verifiable date or the known outcome of a major event, on the other hand, would feel wrong, unless of course we’re writing alternate history (in which case see above re transparency!)

Of course, between these two easily definable extremes, there will be grey areas. I confess to the odd sin of omission in ignoring an inconvenient character (usually minor). I might even use some elasticity in the timing of known meetings, journeys or conversations to improve the narrative flow. I have definitely inserted fictional characters into my historical cast. So, yes, I have written things I know did not take place. But I would argue only little things, and nothing that I think would bother Mr Stevenson’s snail.

Whose story is it anyway?

Here’s an anecdote which I hope illustrates a point. Over a year after publication of In the Blink of an Eye, I was alerted by a friend and expert to something in the life of my hero that neither of us had been aware of up to that point.

This wasn’t a matter of world history, but something that had I known about it, would probably have changed the ending of my novel if not its entire shape. I had got things wrong. I had unwittingly disrespected my subject.

But on reflection I put aside my vexation. In writing fiction we don’t just recreate characters, we create new ones. There are as many Henry VIIIs or Winston Churchills as we see on the page or the screen. My hero from nineteenth century Edinburgh has gained another life in the pages of my novel.

If I were to reissue the book, I might add a note, but I wouldn’t change it. This is ‘my’ D. O. Hill, this is my story now.

Stick or twist?

But once you’ve committed to this fascinating and challenging task, enjoy the ride, it’s sure to be fun. And there is a lot of satisfaction to be derived from amassing knowledge. Just think, if you don’t write a best-seller, you’re ready to take Mastermind by storm!

One of the hardest parts of being a writer of historical fiction (after writing the book, obviously) is deciding how to get your work in front of your readers.

For most, there will be the pull of traditional publishing; of having your work accepted by a storied agent who submits it to legendary editors, of cover designs and copy edits, pub dates and advances.

Yet while there is still a certain cachet in having your work accepted for publication by a traditional publisher, other models might suit individual writers better.

The most obvious alternatives are self and hybrid publishing, where more of the non-writing work – the editing, marketing, sales, publicity and distribution – is the sole responsibility of the author.

Self-publishing in particular is often considered a relatively new phenomenon, but it’s actually been around for longer than most people realise. Mark Twain famously self-published The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn when he wasn’t happy with the profit margins he was getting from his publisher.

But it is also fair to say that these approaches have enjoyed a shot in the army thanks to the advent of technology. Ebooks and their associated marketplaces have made it much easier for anyone to turn a manuscript into a finished book and get it out into the world.

What’s often overlooked, however, is how other forms of distribution are enjoying a resurgence thanks to technology.

Subscriptions, memberships and crowdfunding are all offering alternative routes for writers. And while all are much easier to set up and launch nowadays, they too are much older than many people think.

Following Dickens and Dumas into serials

Take serialised subscriptions. Charles Dickens and Alexandre Dumas both began their careers with serialised novels.

But whereas they did so because there was demand from periodicals and newspapers, nowadays writers have platforms like Substack. They might have started as newsletter services, but for more and more writers, one of the main reasons to publish via these platforms is the built-in subscription services. Authors such as Holly Brown and Sue Meredith Mann offer subscribers their novels in serial form, with new instalments available regularly.

If the subscriptions are paid, writers get a regular income that could end up being more per reader than if they had sold physical copies of their books.

Even free options have benefits to writers, particularly when it comes to building audiences. Providing free subscribers with introductory chapters can help gather interest and get people excited before they take the plunge into paid offerings.

Serialising a story to subscribers can also be a way of helping shape the story. As Mann notes in her about section, her “beta readers love the book – but they all know me in some capacity. Does the book have merit in its own right, just as a story?” Building a subscriber base on a platform such as Substack and beehiv can help generate feedback, whether it’s direct – such as receiving reader comments – or through metrics such as engagement with that chapter.

The new (old) patronage system

Membership platforms like Patreon and Ko-Fi provide similar opportunities for writers to offer readers different levels of access. Where they tend to differ from the subscription services is that there is usually a greater emphasis on supporting a writer’s work. So payment may not just be for the book, but as part of a demonstration of appreciation. It’s a bit like the old patronage system that William Shakespeare, among others, benefited from, the main difference being that today it’s the average consumer that’s the patron, rather than a wealthy benefactor.

There is also a greater focus on writers providing readers with additional content and benefits. For example, graphic novelist Paul Guinan runs a Patreon for his work about the fall of the Aztec Empire. He offers six paid membership tiers, each with different benefits, such as dedications, likeness as a character or original sketches.

Membership approaches also cultivate fan bases, attracting those who want to invest in the writer and the stories they tell; not just buying the books, but joining an exclusive club. Historical fantasy author Lucy Holland uses Patreon to offer research notes and other content to deepen her readers’ relationship with her work.

Testing the waters with crowdfunding

Then there’s crowdfunding. High fantasy and science fiction author Brandon Sanderson broke records when his crowdfunding for four novels made more than $45 million across Kickstarter and BackerKit in 2022. He also used it to fund a special limited edition of another of his novels.

As with memberships, pledging different amounts gives readers access to various rewards, whether bundles of books, signed editions or being included in the work (one project promised to make backers of its highest tier guests at a character’s wedding).

One of the major benefits of crowdfunding is that it helps to gauge interest in the story being offered. While a lot goes into a successful crowdfunding campaign beyond a great story, it does give writers a sense of what their readers are willing to pay for.

Combining multiple models

It’s a benefit that’s at the core of Unbound’s business model. While submissions have to go through a selection process similar to that of a traditional publisher, whether the book is published or not ultimately comes down to whether it receives enough backing. Assuming it does, authors then have the support of the company’s editors, sales and marketing teams to get their work fit for public consumption. Everyone involved already knows that there is a level of interest in the work that can be built upon, reducing the risk for all involved. Solange Burrell, Katharine Quarmby and Alex de Campi have all published historical fiction in this way, often covering topics and eras that might not fit with traditional publishing’s trends.

And that’s a key point to remember when considering which model to adopt. Historical fiction, like any genre, has certain areas that are considered more commercially viable than others. In the UK, for instance, there’s the Romans, the Tudors and the World Wars, then possibly the Vikings, the Middle Ages, and certain parts of the 18th and 19th centuries, such as the Regency.

It’s a commercial reality that traditional publishers (particularly the bigger ones) have to consider whether a book has a market. Debating whether that should be the case is a matter for a different article, but what it does mean is that certain periods don’t get the same level of attention as others. Adopting non-traditional models could be a way of getting your novel on a love story set in pre-Roman Britain to its readership.

A publishing model for all

There’s one other point to make: this is not an either-or choice. If you choose the traditional approach for one work, there’s nothing (aside from perhaps any legal restrictions depending on your publishing contract) stopping you from using another model for later books.
Some models complement each other well, and can even be used to boost each other. Michael Jecks has published more than fifty books with traditional publishers and also runs a Patreon to engage with readers in more depth.

Ultimately, it’s about reaching readers. Whether they’re picking up your latest hardback in Waterstones, receiving a new chapter via email, or pledging to crowdfund a signed leather-bound limited edition, what matters is that they read your words.

Read, listen, watch

Probably lots of reading, to begin with. Some broad reading about the period, some more specific stuff on the areas of society your story covers, such as aircraft or chemistry or veterinarians, or whatever. There will most likely be some choice finds on Amazon marketplace of the most niche of niche books, my personal favourite being a find I needed on a novel about Victorian brickmaking, titled The Cry of the Children from the Brickyards of England: And How the Cry Has Been Heard, with Observations Upon the Carrying Out of the Act. How the soul sings when you find something so precisely needed! You might visit the town archives or the Imperial War Museum Reading Room to look at unpublished letters from the Boer War, or diary entries from the Blitz.

So, you’ve done your reading. You’ll probably complement that with some savvy Googling – whether that be a Google search, Google Books or Google Scholar – and you’ll most likely save a bunch of articles and images on topics you need, like Victorian schoolrooms or Georgian era chandlers. Maybe you’ll be lucky and there’s some juicy BBC documentaries on your chosen topic, like shopgirls in the 1890s. Or a history podcast that has a brilliant series on the exact event you’re researching, such as the Warsaw Ghetto Revolt moment by moment. This is all great stuff. You need all that stuff. You can write some super prose based on all those acorns of material, that will grow into mighty oaks of fiction based on reliable facts. But…is that it? Without a time machine, one might think that’s all there is to do. But there’s more…

Talk to me

We’d all love a time machine (as long as I still have WiFi) but the next best thing might well be talking to people who were there. So if you’re writing about anything within the twentieth century, it’s possible to talk to people who experienced those events at the time. Or possibly earlier, if they can talk knowledgeably about their parents or grandparents’ experiences as well. I found a WW2 Wren in her nineties who still had perfect recall of her days as a secret listener – a wireless telegraphist – during the war and I was lucky enough to interview her over the phone.

That kind of personal detail was invaluable in making my characters feel real, such as the fact that they sneakily wore men’s navy blue bellbottoms instead of the standard issue skirt on the nightshifts, as everything was more relaxed at night. Little gems like that are the kind of thing you’ll not always find in a standard account of what wireless telegraphists did. So, if you can, seek out people who were there, who lived through it, who can give you these tiny details that only a true witness can give.

Location, location, location

You might be writing about your home town in northern England, or about Vanuatu in the south-western Pacific. Either way, you’ll do yourself a world of good by visiting the locations you’re writing about, if have the time and resources. It might be an eighteenth-century town house in York, that still retains the original wood-panelling in the drawing room. Or it could be the dining table at Howarth Parsonage where Emily Brontë wrote Wuthering Heights.

In my own experience, standing on the iron bridge at Ironbridge in Shropshire, gazing at the river Severn flow beneath my feet, that gave me the inspiration for a saga based on the poor folk living along its banks and the rich folks in their posh houses up on the hill, literally looking down on their minions who created the industrial revolution with the sweat off their backs. Standing in the actual place where real things happened, things you want to write about, can give you history shivers, that phenomenon where you can physically feel the atmosphere of a place vibrate with history.

In other cases, it may be that you notice a detail you’d never have seen in a photograph. I wrote about a Victorian hop farm, and decided to travel several hours to visit a hop farming museum in Kent. I went for a quiet, slow walk alone along the hop lanes, reached out and touched one of the hop bines. I found that the stalks were sticky and the new growth was soft as eyelashes. I’d never have found that golden nugget of information if I hadn’t travelled there and touched the hop plants myself.

Doing the thing

Last but not least is the most immersive of research techniques and that is to do the thing you’re writing about. So you can’t be a civil war soldier…but maybe you could take part in a reenactment. You’re no seamstress, but perhaps you can go to a sewing club, interview the people who regularly go, hang out with them and listen to the gossip, and have a go at sewing something yourself. In my case, I visited an artisan brickmaker and learnt how to make bricks by hand, then imagined doing the same thing thousands of times a day, as my characters would have had to do for little pay and with no breaks.

I once wrote about early pilots, from Edwardian England through to WW1. A pilot I interviewed told me I had no business writing about vintage flying if I hadn’t been up in a light aircraft. As I was cowardly about flying, I ignored this for a year, until he finally persuaded me to go. I went up with him in a Cessna, and then in a Pitts Special (all donated free, very generously). I’d had no idea about the initial terror of light aircraft flying, which soon gave way to exhilaration at the danger, then joy at the godlike view. When I got home, I rewrote all of my flying scenes, because I knew they were all wrong.

We may not have time machines available to us as historical novelists, but with a bit of effort, we can make our own.

For historical fiction authors, social media works best when we acknowledge two fundamental concepts:

1. Using social media won’t guarantee a best-selling book. This may be hard for authors to swallow, but it also takes the pressure off. Book sales are not wholly dependent on how active you are online, although some presence on social media can help.

2. It is best if authors focus on connecting with others via social media, rather than simply using it as a promotional tool. Career-wise, historical fiction authors should concentrate on building relationships with fellow writers and readers, book reviewers and bloggers, beta readers and critique partners, literary festival organisers and so on. If authors only bang on about their own books all the time, this will get them nowhere.

So, what effective social media strategies can historical fiction authors use?

A key piece of advice is to concentrate on your favourite platform, rather than try and cover all of them. The main social media platforms are:

Facebook

X (formerly Twitter)

Instagram

BookTok (TikTok)

20 tips for whatever channel you choose

1. There is no hard and fast rule for how often you should post on social media, but a good rule of thumb is to do it whenever you have something interesting or relevant to share. That might mean you post something several times a day, or only once a month. Be authentic, and regular if you can.

2. Post a glimpse into your author life: such as author talks you take part in, book events you attend, or research trips you take.

3. Give an update on your writing progress: readers enjoy a glimpse behind the scenes of the publishing process. Post about your struggles (writers’ block, anyone?) and successes (finishing a tricky section, resolving a research conundrum) that you encounter on your journey.

3. Show your workspace: Virginia Woolf invented the standing desk. Lord Byron wrote in a haunted house. Charles Dickens was a neat freak. Truman Capote always wrote with a glass of Sherry next to him. Where do you write?

4. Share your writing tips and tools: perhaps you have a huge whiteboard covered in post it notes? Maybe you use specific research methods, writing software, or approaches like dictation.

5. Share what you’re reading, especially any historical fiction, and in the process support your fellow authors. Maybe they will notice and reciprocate, maybe not. But either way, it shows the world you read and love historical fiction.

6. Share a quote from one of your books: use tools like Canva to create eye-catching images of quotes, to inspire, intrigue, or tease readers into wanting to read more.

7. Show off a relevant talent or hobby: are you a member of a reenactment society? Can you grow medicinal herbs, and know how to use them? Do you write with a quill? Post about it.

8. Share the things that inspire your writing process: Have you been inspired by real people in history? Post photographs of them if you can, but be cautious of copyright. Create a Pinterest board of historic settings/buildings/locations that inspire you.

9. Use objects or props from your books: Share interesting items that appear in your stories. Does your character use tarot cards? Or a Mark III B2 wireless set, like my SOE secret agent Elisabeth does? Or does your character wear unusual clothing?

10. Discuss your love of history: sharing your passion for all things historical can help readers relate to you, and foster engagement in your books. You could also share articles you’ve read on areas of history that interest you.

11. Promote historical charities or societies: Do you belong to a Historical Society or group? For example, The Historical Association – the UK national charity of history.
12. Share interesting historical links and media: your followers will likely be interested in the historical topics you explore in your books, so if you find a photo, article, website or video interesting, share it with them.

13. Give a glimpse of your private life, but only if you want. Feel free to ignore this tip. Many authors do share personal posts, for instance if they’ve visited somewhere interesting on holiday, or have discovered a favourite recipe, or if they’ve enjoyed a museum exhibit.

14. Post a book cover reveal: social media is the perfect place to show readers what your next book will look like. Always credit the designer/illustrator, and if you have a publisher check that it’s OK to do this.

15. Post an unboxing video: the moment an author receives their advanced reader copies (ARCs), or final print books in the post, is a moment to be celebrated. Make a video and post it online.

16. Publicise a preorder campaign: this is great for building buzz around a new book, and a good way to engage with readers too. Authors can run giveaways and competitions, in the run up to publishing their books, although make sure you familiarise yourselves with any relevant rules around competitions in your country.

17. Invite people to your book events: if you are taking part in a festival, or a book tour, a blog tour, a book signing, or an author talk, let people know about it, and where they can get tickets. An author website can help with lists of events, but social media is great for promoting each individual event.

18. Share good news: has your novel become a bestseller? Won a prize? Have you landed an agent or a publishing deal? Shout it on social media. X and TikTok can be the best platforms for immediate, unfiltered reactions to good news events.

20. Show off your pets: if you can’t think of anything to post, snap a picture of your pet with your book!

Social media isn’t everything though

And lastly, it is worth noting that not all agents and publishers expect an author to have a large, or indeed any, audience on social media.

Picture the scene: you’ve spent years working on your novel about a historical figure never immortalised in fiction. And then you discover someone else is publishing a novel about them.

This situation is unique to historical fiction writers: when we fictionalise real historical figures, there’s no guarantee the same person won’t have inspired someone else – perhaps simultaneously. Equally, the urge to re-examine a misunderstood character may have struck someone else too: this year sees two feminist retellings of Medea from Rosie Hewlett and Eilish Quin, while Annie Garthwaite’s Cecily and Anne O’Brien’s The Queen’s Rival came out within twelve months of each other. Depending on where you are in the writing cycle, you might be tempted to ditch your project entirely; if contracts have been signed, you may not have that option. And of course, you might not want to – in which case you’ll need to pitch and market a novel that sounds similar to another writer’s forthcoming book.

How do you keep going?

Discovering another novelist has written about a character you’ve come to view as your own may feel disheartening. But it’s important to recognise that there is no definitive version of a historical figure, even in non-fiction. Your characters are an interpretation of their historical counterparts. CJ Sansom depicts Catherine Parr in Lamentation as an enigmatic, quietly dignified woman, whereas in Philippa Gregory’s The Taming of the Queen Kateryn’s role is less a trigger for a mystery plot, and more a pioneer of early female literature. Meanwhile in Queen’s Gambit Elizabeth Fremantle’s Katherine is vulnerable, surrounded by danger. There’s room in the literary landscape for all these Katherines (and not just because the authors spell their names differently), and perhaps more. What might surprise readers, even those familiar with the period?

Reworking your material

If you decide to shelve your novel, permanently or temporarily, your research doesn’t need to go to waste. Could you tackle the same story from a different angle instead? Given the depth and success of Wolf Hall, it’s going to be harder to pitch a novel centring Thomas Cromwell for a while. But one from his mistress’s perspective? His son’s? His daughter-in-law’s? Those might be very appealing to readers of Wolf Hall.

Practise self-care

Knowing the market is undeniably invaluable, and all good writers are keen readers. But do you really need to be reading that other book – or frantically stalking that other writer on social media? Will the potential toll on your well-being be worth it?

Like many authors, my first novel wasn’t my debut novel: shortly after my book about Arbella Stuart died on submission, Elizabeth Fremantle’s The Girl in the Glass Tower came out. I’m a huge fan of her novels but feared reading her take on Arbella would prove too painful. In the end, I chose to read it – but only once I’d moved on to other projects. My version was largely chronological and first-person – which, given Arbella spends a lot of time alone, was quite restrictive! Fremantle’s, however, used two viewpoint characters and a dual timeline structure to give Arbella’s escape attempts greater prominence, thus enhancing tension throughout. For me, this was a valuable process: looking at other writers’ interpretations of your figures can bring new understanding of your own work’s strengths and weaknesses.

However, with my debut, I’ve taken a different approach. When I started writing The Burnings, there were no novels in print about the North Berwick witch trials; now there are at least three others – Jenni Fagan’s Hex, Danielle Devlin’s Burnt Offerings, and Kate Foster’s The King’s Witches. So far, I’ve avoided reading them – I’m imagining novels so stunning that I lose all faith in my own. At present I’m too emotionally close to my novel: I’d feel vulnerable and paranoid. I’m a firm believer in mood reading, and I’ll be in a much better mood to read The King’s Witches next year, when I’ve moved on to promoting my second novel.

What makes your novel unique?

When readying your novel for submission or publication, or marketing your work, be mindful of how to pitch it. What genre elements could be played up? Is there a supernatural element, aspects of crime fiction, or a parallel with modern society? For instance, in Rosie Hewlett’s Medea, Jason’s behaviour has clear links to gaslighting, adding poignant resonance for today’s readers. Hypothetically, a novel about Eleanor of Aquitaine might portray her marriage with Henry II in the style of a domestic noir, exploring gender and manipulation: Gone Girl meets Macbeth. Another might take inspiration from Succession, examining her relationships with her many rebellious, rivalrous children. Elevator pitches are crucial for many stages of publishing, from pitching to agents and editors, to booksellers persuading customers to buy your book. Thoughtful comp titles can distinguish your novel from others about the same figure.

Publishing isn’t a competition!

Appreciating this can be hard, particularly if you’re on the wrong side of the submission process. Other writers’ trajectories may seem ever-ascendent, while your own writing languishes unseen. But for readers, marketing trends translate to lots of books to devour! Cathryn Kemp admits her heart sank on realising Anna Mazzola was also writing about Giulia Tofana, a female poisoner in seventeenth century Rome. However, Kemp says “Penguin weren’t unduly concerned, saying that it wasn’t uncommon for two authors to arrive at the same period in history and write their own versions.” Indeed, A Poisoner’s Tale and The Book of Secrets take contrasting approaches: Kemp says “The legend of Giulia and her circle of female poisoners, witches and occultists became my focus, while Anna’s book centres on the investigation by Stefano Bracchi. As both books have been published, read and reviewed, the similarities feel as if they’ve fallen away as two writers create two very different stories, albeit connected at source.”

Celebrate Other Writers

Above all, do not be tempted to post bitter online comments comparing your books’ merits! It’s important to be a positive voice within the publishing community. You’ll find Jennifer Saint’s endorsements celebrating Costanza Cosati’s Clytemnestra and Claire North’s Ithaca, even though she covered similar ground in Elektra: her generosity is a model to follow. As Cathryn Kemp says, “I believe whole-heartedly there is enough space for all of us writers, debut or established, mid-career or global bestseller. The more voices we raise up and listen to, the better it has to be for publishing as a whole.” I fully agree – having devoured Isabelle Schuler’s Lady Macbethad and Val McDermid’s Queen Macbeth, Ava Reid’s Lady Macbeth is calling out to me more, not less. If retelling old stories in new ways was good enough for Shakespeare, it’s good enough for all of us.

Just as a reminder for everyone who was asleep at school – a primary source is a contemporary object or piece of writing. Stuff from Ye Olden Days of Yore. The Treasurer of the Chamber’s Accounts (Henry VIII’s soft furnishings bill–here if you’re interested) is a superb primary source. As is his foot combat armour at the Royal Armouries in Leeds.

A secondary source, by contrast, is something created after the event. Stuff written down by historians to give their interpretation of events. For example, Henry VIII by Alison Weir is a secondary source. As is the enthusiastic Henry VIII reenactor at Hever Castle on a bank holiday.

This article is geared towards helping you discover some off-the-beaten-path primary sources to aid in your writing. Secondary sources are fantastic veins of information, but without primary sources as part of your research, you restrict your writing to interpretations of the interpretations of others- viewing the past through two misted windows instead of one. Also, by looking at more obscure primary sources you can give your writing something new to help it stand out in a crowded marketplace.

Household Accounts

Like the above example, household accounts give us an insight into what people spent money on. Writing stuff like this down really starts to get trendy in the medieval period, especially from around 1200 CE. Most accounts were kept by the women of the household, dealing with daily expenditures. Although, in bigger estates this was often dealt with by a steward or other high-ranking servant.

For your writing, look beyond people complaining about the price of things. Although having someone comment about the three shillings and threepence spent on King’s maundy gives a nice little detail, it’s much more interesting to write about the bigger purchases.

Look at this extract:

To Ric. Gresham, upon a warrant dated 5 Nov. 20 Hen. VIII., for ten pieces of arras wrought with gold of the story of King David, containing in the whole 743 Flemish ells, at 41s. 8d. an ell; also for 12 pieces of tapestry of the Twelve Months, containing 345 ells Flemish, at 2s. an ell. This stuff was delivered by Gresham to Will. Rugeley, yeoman of the Wardrobe, 27 Oct.

So, Henry VIII has brought some beautiful tapestries. What do your characters think about them? How do them look in the hall?

Look at the wider context. Continuing our example, in October 1528 Henry is sleeping around with his then mistress, future wife Anne Boleyn. Lorenzo Campeggio is at court holding discussions with Henry and Cardinal Wolsey. So, despite everything else that’s going on (including being at war with the Holy Roman Empire!) Henry is still splashing the cash on luxurious furnishing. For your writing, whether your characters are real people or fictional creations, think how they react to these big purchases and how they would impact their day-to-day lives.

Advertisements

All advertisements play off of desires, fears, or insecurities. Promising something good, or promising to prevent something bad. Advertising isn’t a new thing. By the 17th century, newspapers in London began to carry adverts, and by the 18th century, advertising was really taking off.

Advertising can produce massive shifts in generational attitudes. For example, the legendary diamond marketing campaign by De Beers.

In the 40’s, the New York-based ad agency N.W. Ayer ran some incredible campaigns, showing diamonds as a symbol of eternal love. An up-and-coming copywriter called Frances Gerety came up with the legendary slogan “A diamond is forever”. Previous to this, a diamond ring was neither required nor expected with a proposal. In 1940, 10% of first-time brides had diamond engagement rings. 50 years later in 1990, that number had risen to 80%.

As well as being an interesting anecdote, the De Beers campaign shows just how powerful advertising can be in shaping perceptions and desires. A quick Google will bring up relevant adverts from your story’s period. You can use these to gain a greater insight into what your characters find desirable, or social expectations.

Cook Books

As I mentioned in a previous article What’s Cooking?, food is extremely important in understanding a historical period. The Boke of Cokery by Richard Pynson is the first English cookery book, and it dates from 1500.

Mrs. Beeton’s Book of Household Management, aka Mrs. Beeton’s Cookery Book is another treasure trove of recipes and firsthand insight into the meals that kept families fed and the accounts in the black.

Contemporary recipes are not just useful in helping you avoid blunders- like a 15th-century merchant happily chomping on a tomato before Columbus’ voyages brought them to Europe. Rather they help give an authentic perspective. By looking at actual menus and recipes from your period, you can get a clearer idea about the day-to-day reality your characters live in.

Satire and Cartoons

Satire is as old as humanity. And taking-the-mick is an inherent part of the human condition. Even the rough, tough Vikings had jokes in their sagas. My personal favourites being the adventures of Hali the porridge eater at the court of Harald Hardrada.

These sources can tell us what people in the past found funny, or insulting- or in the case of Hali the porridge eater, and his not-so-gentle-ribbing, both.

The Romans used allegations of sexual misconduct and degenerate behaviour to smear their political enemies. We have tons of primary sources of this (including everything from tablets to graffiti), and it gives us a clear idea of what this society would consider abhorrent or dishonourable in their political elite.

Political cartoons, which take off in the 18th century, give us more of a general overview of feelings at the time. Obviously, there is going to be a bias from that individual cartoonist, but most of them have their finger on the pulse of the nation’s mood at any given time. These little snapshots can tell us how people are feeling and therefore what your character’s reaction might be to macro historical events taking place around them. Or if you’re writing about the great and the good, how they feel about being satirised.

Everyday Objects

A quick trip to the British Museum or the Met will give you access to objects from across the planet and every possible period of time. Or failing that, any number of historic properties, armories or other collections of historical artifacts can give you firsthand experience.

Adding a touch of realism by being able to describe a piece of jewellery, a hair comb, or a dagger accurately is just the surface benefit of looking at (or if you’re extremely lucky, handling!) historical artifacts. The real bonus it gives you as a writer is giving you added empathy, which will come through in your writing as you get ‘in touch’ with your historical period.

Yes, this does sound a bit hippy. But please do trust me. Being able to see say, a 17th-century chair, means you can see your characters sitting there in your mind’s eye while you write a scene. The vibrancy and the colour will shine through in your writing.

Finally, although the temptation is there to rely heavily, or almost exclusively on secondary sources, I would urge you not to. But why reinvent the wheel? I hear you cry. Well, here’s the thing. By utilising primary sources, you build your own connection to the past. You establish your own internal narrative about that point in time, and you grow your empathy for the people who lived there. Also, don’t sell yourself short! Even with the most well-trod paths of history, there is always something new to discover. And you may very well be the one to do it, or at least the first to put it in a novel.