M.C.Scott (author of The Emperor’s Spy) Lesley Downer (The Courtesan and the Samurai) and I have been chatting about what’s more important in a novel; the story, or the facts? Both Scott and Downer are renowned for their extensive and meticulous research, and yet they are both wonderful story-tellers. Nevertheless, we are all so often asked about story and facts as though the two are mutually exclusive. Here are some of my thoughts.

The historical context is the frame that you hang the story on and so it has to stand strong or else the reader isn’t going to trust it enough to spend any time inside it. So you get it right as far as you can. But what you don’t want to do is show everyone how much research you’ve done, because quite frankly, they don’t care. They want to be entertained on the tube or soaking in the bath after a hard day’s graft. They want to be drawn into other times and places and it’s our job to make their journey feel authentic.

I don’t want to tell my readers how Paris in the 8^th century disposed of its people’s waste. I want my readers to smell the stink of a sluggish flow of filth sliding into the Seine. I don’t want to teach readers various Norse boat-building techniques. I want them to feel the sea-spray on their face and the tightness of their skin after the salt-water dries.

Of course I’ll exaggerate both in terms of the timescale in which the events happen (that is to say, a lot happens in 300 pages!) and the drama of the events themselves ­­- to make the ride more of a thrill.

I’ll saddle my characters with a sort of omnipresence; that curse shared by Harry Flashman and Richard Sharpe of always being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

My next series will be set during the English Civil War. Now, if you were alive in the 1640s it might well be that your only experience of the conflict was a minor skirmish down some country lane. But that’s not the book I want to write…or read for that matter.  No quiet life for my poor characters! They’re going to find themselves caught up in the Battles of Edgehill, Marston Moor, Naseby, Preston and numerous other scraps. My readers are going to smell the sulphur and hear the whine of lead through the smoke-thick air. Their mind’s eye is going to reel with the atrocious ‘sights’ of a blood-slick battlefield, and their hearts will hammer at the best and worst of man. 

But my aim is to make it plausible. Historical fiction readers tend to be very well informed. They know full well if an author hasn’t done their homework.

But what annoys me is when I speak to people who say, ‘I don’t read fiction.’ As though it’s the complete opposite of non-fiction. These people seem to me to be suggesting that they don’t have time to indulge in a fiction author’s flights of fancy when there’s all that hard, cold knowledge to be sucked out of non-fiction books. Do you read non-fiction books cover to cover? I have shelves upon shelves of them and tend to jump in and out when I’m after something specific. They’re for reference. But when I pick up a Cornwell or King, I’m off. I’m outta here.

I suppose the fiction-dodgers may just lack the one thing you need if you’re going to enjoy a novel (I don’t mean time – anyone can make time to read) and that is an imagination. But that thought just makes me sad, so I’d rather not go into that horrible possibility.

I suspect when these people say they don’t read fiction what they really mean is they don’t read.

There’s no doubt in my mind that you can gain a deep understanding of past times from well-written historical fiction. Historical novels are the closest thing we have to time machines. But the story must come first. Always the story.

So, RAVEN rides the sea-road again, with Sons of Thunder hitting the shelves like Thor’s own hammer last Thursday. And being Thor’s Day, it could not have been a more auspicious beginning for my second novel.

It’s a strange feeling, really. After waiting for so long to get published I now have two books out there fighting for their place in the market. It’s beginning to feel real, as though this really is my job now; to sit down every morning at my desk, coffee drip primed, and delve into other worlds, stir the waters of older places and times. We launched Sons of Thunder at Goldsboro books, a wonderful shop which specializes in first edition hardbacks. It was quite a civilized affair (far too tame for real Vikings) and, unlike last year, there were no fur-trimmed serving wenches to be seen. But it was a great night none the less and the dearth of wanton distractions provided the perfect opportunity to talk to some of the publishing crew whose expertise and passion we authors rely so heavily on. I’m probably luckier than most in that my lot are a great bunch, the kind of folk with whom I’d happily get on the outside of a few drops of ale. As for the new book, it was a joy to write. Raven and the Fellowship are hungry for vengeance and that, for me, is as good a place to start as any. But they find themselves now in Frankia, an empire ruled by the mighty, shrewd, and dangerously pious King Karolus (Charlemagne) who commands enough muscle to grind Sigurd and his Wolfpack into the dirt.
So Raven and the jarl must show themselves to be as cunning as Loki himself if they are to gain great riches and weave a shining saga-tale.

If you happen to plunder yourself a copy, it’s great to have you onboard! Let me know what you think.