Anywhere But Now: the Historical Novel Society Convention

Renaissance Venice, Heian Japan, or sailing with the Norsemen, conference goers at the June Historical Novel Society meeting were anywhere but in the rather anonymous suburban hotel. But bring the participants (briefly) back to our 21st century publishing scene and you’ll find out that historical fiction is a sort of uber-genre: it covers mysteries, romance, thriller, fantasy, chick lit and serious fiction. Think of the range from The French Lieutenant’s Woman to Fabio.

It was a well heeled crowd, albeit more Ferragamo than Manolo. Predominantly female, conference goers clearly know their way around the research stacks, and one seminar on researching when you can’t go there elicited oohs and aahs for the presentation by author Roberta Gellis on accessing resources for ancient maps. Apparently plenty of authors need to know how to turn right at the correct medieval mud hut and proceed along to the barley fields.

Writers using historical settings may not be afraid of dragons, but they live in terror of reenactors, who can be counted on to point out the anachronisms the author has overlooked. Balancing the needs of a plot versus what actually happened can be more difficult than getting out of your armor after a rainstorm.

These are not the kind of writers to be daunted by a little inconvenient travel or tough research, however. Some described learning Latin in order to translate medieval manuscripts, deciphering spidery script in caches of personal letters, and constructing and wearing clothing of excruciating complexity and discomfort. One evening’s entertainment offered the opportunity to costume yourself as your character. One participant demonstrated a spectacular use for your grandma’s old fur stole: think sumptuous sleeve trim on blue velvet. Clearly, however, some eras have had more fashion sense than others, and based on the clothes, I’m not moving to the early middle ages any time soon, unless the burlap is lined. No wonder skin diseases were common.

Writers are readers, too, and publishers know it. The goodie bags given out to participants included a bushel of books, along with the usual printed pens and bookmarks. One clever and pricey promo was a wax sealed bottle of lavender water, packaged in a lace handkerchief, promoting a book called The Tory Widow by Christine Blevins. I wonder what the guys did with it. There were so many books I hauled them out to my car, but I must admit I was sore tempted to sit right down and read them all, bagging the rest of the conference.

That would have been a mistake. The Conference was replete with editors and agents, and they were in a buying mood. Every participant I spoke with who had taken advantage of the 8 minute pitch meetings had been asked to forward a manuscript. And authors who are ready to wrestle with samurai sword play are not easily daunted by the realities of 21st century marketing.

There was plenty of advice on making sure that the novel you spent 6 years researching doesn’t become a six week wonder. Speaker after speaker talked about developing a platform, courting readers, and using the latest cyber techniques and social media as a cost effective way to reach book buyers interested in worlds where the height of technological innovation might be the spoked wheel. As editor Trish Todd of Touchstone/Simon & Schuster put it, “I wouldn’t send my worst enemy on a book tour right now”, but virtual blog tours, connecting authors with book clubs via Skype, and webinars and podcasts were all thoroughly vetted as means to maximize “reader touch” while minimizing author wear-and-tear. Even though authors might find it as pleasant as swallowing an emetic, author Michelle Moran advised coughing up at least 5% of your advance for your own marketing efforts.

If you still harbor any illusions that publishing is about art, not marketing, you’re as out of date as a wimple. Your editor is going to take a hard look at her spreadsheet before she takes a look at a second manuscript from you. Remember Mr. Micawber’s famous advice to David Copperfield, "Annual income twenty pounds, annual expenditure nineteen nineteen six, result happiness. Annual income twenty pounds, annual expenditure twenty pounds ought and six, result misery." Turns out that applies equally well to advances. If you get a $15K advance and your book sells 20,000 copies, you’re a hero. But cage a $50,000 advance and sell the same 20,000 copies and your agent will be repurposing your next manuscript. Still, I’d rather have one partridge on a pewter platter than still in the pear tree—there’s no guarantee what the market might be like down the [dirt] road.

For now, however, everything’s coming up fleur de lys—apparently authors of historical fiction aren’t the only ones who like to time travel. So, based on what I heard, if you’re writing serious fiction, a mystery, a thriller or maybe even chick lit or teenage angst, I’d find a historical period to set it in. It’s a good horse to ride.