Details mean everything to the historical author.
It’s the life threads of another time which draw us and that’s what we want to share with our readers.
So it’s paramount this deliciousness is woven alongside the imagined in a way which keeps the reader believing.
Much of my historical inspiration has come from journals, old letters, newspaper archives, cookbooks, and historical records of island life in it’s infancy.
I thought I had the details sorted when I finished writing Carry Me Home. But I knew I couldn’t trust my information gathering alone.
So I reached out to the good people at the Phillip Island Historical Society. Two of their members agreed to read my manuscript for historical and local accuracy.
This was the first time I’d seen my story on paper. It had survived many rounds with critique partners and editors, but now it headed off, printed and all cosy in polka dot boxes, for those who cherished island history more than I ever could ~ the descendants of Phillip Island’s pioneers and early settlers.
I thoroughly enjoyed receiving their feedback. Who knew the marram grass I thought belonged on the island in 1874, had not been planted until 1910? I learned the better option was spinifex, and so I went with that. Cool word. Spinifex.
On all local matters, I deferred to the experts. Where there was a general issue with historical accuracy, I returned to my desk to research further.
While the use of mum might sound too modern for the 1870s, I found it commonly used as early as 1835, and the word pester appears in literature dating back to 1588. And did you know the phrase, if the shoe fits, wear it… dates back to 1705, and the very modern sounding, I guess, was used by Shakespeare and Charels Dickens?
Double checking to keep a word or phrase, or delete it, brings some satisfaction. I know I’ll never get it all right, but I won’t leave any questions marks unanswered, either. It must be in the nature of a history nerd. I need to know for myself if my word choices fit the time. Anachronisms bother me as a reader, so the writer in me works extra hard to make sure there are none to trouble my audience.
I’m so grateful I had the assistance of the Historical Society members on this manuscript. Their fresh eyes picked up typos and simple errors, too.
And when I collected my polka dot boxes, minus the chocolate reward I’d stuffed in there, I was ready for another round of edits and revisions. This time, armed with something solid. This was not just a love story, anymore. The historical scaffolding on which it draped had been checked by those who knew best. And I reclaimed my absolute favourite combination, the wonderful weight of history and romance… and took it home where I could polish it some more.
“We all grow up with the weight of history on us. Our ancestors dwell in the attics of our brains as they do in the spiralling chains of knowledge hidden in every cell of our bodies.” Shirley Abbot