The 2026 History Through Fiction Conference in Quotes: Part One

This weekend I had the pleasure of being the keynote speaker and leading a masterclass on what we can learn from Charles Dickens about writing historical fiction at the inaugural History Through Fiction Conference in Beverly, MA.

Colin Mustful kicking off the conference

The location—near Salem, home to America’s most famous witch trials, and many key Revolutionary War sites—was suitably historically inspiring. The speakers and attendees were accomplished, interesting, and passionate about their areas of expertise. And, most importantly, the food was top-notch!

In today’s blog post, I’m going to share some key takeaways, in the form of quotes, from the sessions I attended live.

“Historical fiction, when done well, creates empathy,” Marthese Fenech

Marthese Fenech shared one of the most succinct explanations of why so many of us keep coming back to historical fiction as a genre—its ability to create connections across centuries.

“Multiple timelines give us ways to see progress…and lack thereof,” Addison Armstrong

Meanwhile, Addison Armstrong also focused on how reading about the past can lead us to reflect on the present, shining a light on social issues that remain unresolved.

“I admire the writers who do the work of the historian,” Colin Mustful

Conference organizer Colin Mustful talked about the depth of many historical fiction authors’ research.

“Reading fantasy novels will help with your worldbuilding,” Jillian Forsberg

And Jillian Forsberg shared this tip for how to weave that research into your writing, taking inspiration from fantasy writers to help readers understand the worlds of our novels.

“Stakes tell the reader what happens if the protagonist fails,” Jessica Berg

Literary agent Jessica Berg kept us focused on plot (not just a cool historic setting!) by reminding us that our characters must stand at risk of losing something.

“If I’m just moving commas around, the book is done,” Alina Adams

While Alina Adams shared this tip on how to know when your book is ready to take flight.

My Dickensian Masterclass!

“As one of the older art forms still being practiced today, how lucky are we that we have centuries of writers to learn from?” Finola Austin

In my workshop, I urged delegates not to take craft lessons from historic writers, like Dickens, as well as reading widely in our genre today.

“Listen to your creative discontents and act on them,” Sarah Penner

Our opening speaker, Sarah Penner, encouraged us not to ignore our “creative discontents,” or be afraid of making career pivots based on them.

“As a full-time writer, I spend around 10% of my time writing,” Madeline Martin

And, speaking of careers, closing speaker Madeline Martin shared her own inspiring story of how hard work and determination led to writing becoming her day job, but how her day-to-day schedule might not look exactly how aspiring writers might imagine!

The conference program

Over the next days and weeks, I’ll be listening to the recordings of the parallel sessions I didn’t attend this weekend, so stay tuned for a Part Two post with more thought-provoking quotes. Thank you again to Colin, Robin, and the full team who made the conference possible, and, if we met this weekend, please stay in touch!

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2025 Holiday Gift Guide for Writers

Happy Holidays, everyone, and thank you for reading blog this year. Are you looking for a gift for a published or early career writer in your life? Here’s my roundup of the presents they just might have on their wish list…

An Annual Subscription to Publishers Weekly and/or Publishers Marketplace

Help a writer stay up to date with industry sales and understand what’s selling to publishers and moving up the bestseller lists with a subscription to one or both of these industry stalwarts.

A License for Scrivener

Inspire writers to “graduate” from Microsoft Word or Google Docs and embrace a software specifically designed for novel writing—Scrivener. I love how Scrivener helps me plot and plan and how I can keep my research and manuscript within the same file. 

Personalized Stationery

Many published writers keep the art of letter writing alive by sending thank you notes to bookstores, fans, and fellow authors, so gift them personalized stationery! Bonus points for incorporating colors/motifs that match their latest book’s cover design and remembering to use the initials from their pen name. 

Beautiful Notebooks

Speaking of stationery…what writer wouldn’t want a beautiful notebook where they could capture their new ideas? Get creative with designs that speak to their interests and genre.

A Writing Retreat

The writer’s most important tool is time, so what if you gifted a writer you love a retreat? There are many options out there, but I love the personal retreats offered by the Highlights Foundation in the Poconos. 

A Writing Conference

Or if not a retreat, why not a writing conference, where writers can connect with each other, learning while finding community? If, like me, the writer you’re buying for writes historical fiction, check out the History Through Fiction Conference, which I’m speaking at in March 2026. You can use the discount code FINOLA_HTF26 at checkout for 10% off.

Books, Of Course!

Good writers are great readers, so, if all else fails, buy the writer in your life a few more books. Check out their Goodreads to understand their taste or go with a festive read. Check out my reviews of Jon Clinch’s 2019 Marley (a twist on Charles Dickens’s classic A Christmas Carol) and Virginia Feito’s 2025 Victorian Psycho (where a nineteenth-century Christmas scene descends into a bloodbath) for some inspiration.

Fellow writers, what’s on your Christmas list this year? Let me know—here, on Facebook, on Instagram, or by tweeting @SVictorianist! Want monthly updates from me/my blog? Sign up to my newsletter here.

The Historical Novel Society North America 2025 in Quotes: Part Two

Back in June, I spent a wonderful weekend in Las Vegas for my third in-person Historical Novel Society North America Conference. I recapped some of the quotable takeaways from fellow historical novelists in my Part One blog post, which I wrote on the plane on the way home. 

Dressed as Miss Havisham for the costume contest

But one of the best things about HNSNA is that the conference isn’t over once we all return to our respective cities. Since we waved goodbye to Vegas, I’ve been working my way through the recordings of the panels and talks I didn’t hear live. Today, in my Part Two post, I’m highlighting some of the most memorable moments.

I was particularly excited to catch up on the session on biographical fiction, which dwelt on the challenges of this sub-genre (Gill Paul: “Part of the problem with biographical fiction is what you have to leave out”), as well as the ways writing about a real person can provide the author with helpful scaffolding (Heather Webb: “In biographical fiction you have a map—the person’s life”). In other sessions, though, the historical fiction community remained divided on the question of outlining vs. “pantsing.” Renee Rosen told us, “I can’t outline. I work everything out on the page.”

Speaking of maps, Christopher Cevasco gave us a spirited defense of starting your novel with a map and a prologue, gifting us this great analogy: “If we compare reading a novel to fine dining, the map is like the menu, and the prologue is like an appetizer.”

As usual, there was plenty of research chatter. Tracy Barrett warned that, “it’s easy to fall prey to research rapture,” and Jonathan F. Putnam noted that “your family history doesn’t necessarily have intrinsic interest to a stranger.” Just like our keynote authors, other speakers emphasized research gaps as pivotal to the novelist’s process. G.J. Berger: “The further you go back in time, the more you can make it up.” Shelley Blanton-Stroud: “We chase facts but more importantly we chase truth.” And Alan Smale said of the alternate history genre, “[it] holds up a mirror to our known timeline.”

One of my favorite craft tips came from Gill Paul, who advised us to, “write your most emotional scene in first person, then switch it to third,” if you’re writing a close third person perspective. Other suggestions related to characterization included those from Judith Lindbergh (“You want to take pauses in an action scene to reach into your character’s emotional state”), Elizabeth Boyle (“The archetype gives a character a place in the story and a role to fulfil”), and Kate Quinn (“If the antagonist is going to be a true threat to your hero, then they can’t be a dumbass”). 

During a session on getting “unstuck,” Susan Meissner told us, “If you’re really stuck go back to your premise and realign yourself with it, because it’s where you began. It’s the heart of your story that gave you to gas to begin,” while Eliza Knight made a helpful distinction between abandoning and taking distance from a project: “Don’t let it go. Set it aside.”

In discussions around writing characters who are part of historically marginalized groups, Samantha Rajaram told the crowd, “We are more than our queerness, so we need to make sure we’re not flattening our characters out and reducing them.” While Joan Fernandez reminded listeners that, “language is our currency in writing, and just because a phrase was in common use it doesn’t mean that we automatically use it.”

Finally, the “market” and the salability of our passion projects remains top-of-mind for many conference speakers and question askers. Tracee de Hahn suggested that we all, “evaluate [our] log lines even if [we] started from a family story,” while Weina Dai Randel left us with two options: “When it comes to trends you can try to chase them, or you can keep being the writer you are.”

Thank you so much to all the speakers at HNSNA 2025—if I owned a time turner, I would have listened to all of you live in Vegas. Here’s looking forward to the UK society conference, which will be in Maynooth in Ireland in 2026!

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Neo-Victorian Voices: Fagin, the Thief, Allison Epstein (2025)

Allison Epstein’s 2025 novel, Fagin, the Thief, is a prime example of the sort of book that made me launch this Neo-Victorian Voices blog series, exploring and reviewing works set in the nineteenth century, but written in the twenty-first. 

In this highly engaging and thought-provoking novel, she takes a beloved Victorian classic, Charles Dickens’s Oliver Twist (1838), but then focuses on the backstory and parallel arc of the character modern readers may struggle with the most—the Jewish thief and corrupter of innocent boys, Fagin. 

Epstein’s Fagin has a first name, Jacob, a criminal father, who was executed before his birth, and a heart, caring deeply for his mother, as well as the ill-fated Nancy and her lover and murderer, Bill Sikes, who was once a boy in Fagin's care. But, even more crucially, Jacob Fagin has a context. Born into a Jewish community in London, he faces prejudice from his early years and his story intersects with contemporary debates about the role and status of Jews in British politics and society. This context helps transform Fagin from stock villain into a fully realized and complex character.

This is not to say Epstein’s Fagin is fully redeemed (he is a notorious pickpocket, after all!), but even at his worst, she depicts him as sympathetic, leaving us longing for his story to end differently than in Dickens’s original (spoiler alert: it just might). There are many retellings of nineteenth-century novels on the shelves of the historical fiction aisle. This stands out, for me, as one of the best. 

What novel should I read next as part of my Neo-Victorian Voices series? Let me know—here, on Instagram, on Facebook, or by tweeting @SVictorianist. Want to keep up with the latest about my writing and from my blog? Sign up to my monthly email newsletter here.

Want to join me at the History Through Fiction Conference in March 2026? Sign up via this link, using the discount code FINOLA_HTF26 for 10% off!

A Dickensian Master Class in Epiphanies

Welcome back to my master class blog series, where I dissect passages by famous nineteenth-century authors to inspire writers today. 

This is the fifth time I’m taking cues from Charles Dickens (1812-1870). Previously, I used his novel A Tale of Two Cities (1859) to talk about powerful openings, his novella The Haunted Man and the Ghost’s Bargain (1848) to talk about repetition, and his short stories ‘The Seven Poor Travelers’ (1854) and ‘Mrs. Lirriper’s Lodgings’ (1863) to talk about storytelling technique and first-person narration. 

Today, I’m diving into his 1843-1844 novel Martin Chuzzlewit to discuss character epiphanies.

There are plenty of potential pitfalls for the writer who approaches a scene in which a character comes to a major realization. These chapters could be too internal and, therefore, lacking in action and interest. Alternatively, in a desire to maintain momentum, an author might make the mistake of not probing a character’s psyche enough at one of these pivotal moments, leaving readers with the impression of an under-reaction. If the revelation is also a revelation to readers, they may feel blindsided or tricked (for good or ill). If it is not, they may roll their eyes and find the character stupid. 

In an important scene in Martin Chuzzlewit, the character Tom Pinch realizes what readers have known from early in the book—that he has been entirely misguided in assessing the character of his mentor, employer, and erstwhile hero, the architect Mr. Pecksniff. 

The vehicle Dickens uses to bring about this epiphany is dialogue. Early in the scene, Tom shares the world view he has held up until now, telling the character Mary Graham, “[Pecksniff]’s the best of men. The more at ease you were, the happier he would be. Oh dear, you needn’t be afraid of Pecksniff. He is not a spy.”

It is up to Mary to deliver the blow, in dialogue that’s striking and unusual in a Dickens novel for its brevity: “You mistake him.” 

After some back and forth between Mary and Tom, Dickens then moves from dialogue to narrative summary, avoiding the sort of tired repetition that can come about in scenes where a character discovers information readers already have: When she was more composed, she impressed upon Tom that this man she had described, was Pecksniff in his real colors; and word by word and phrase by phrase, as well as she remembered it, related what had passed between them in the wood.

It’s only when he has played out these plot points and given Tom all the information he needs to know, that Dickens can get to work on the true heart of an epiphany scene—the emotional fallout. Mary exits and Dickens’s omniscient narrator becomes a close third point of view, bringing us directly into Tom’s thoughts and feelings.

And now the full agitation and misery of the disclosure came rushing upon Tom indeed. The star of his whole life from boyhood had become, in a moment, putrid vapor. It was not that Pecksniff, Tom’s Pecksniff, had ceased to exist, but that he never had existed. In his death Tom would have had the comfort of remembering what he used to be, but in this discovery, he had the anguish of recollecting what he never was. For, as Tom’s blindness in this matter had been total and not partial, so was his restored sight. His Pecksniff could never have worked the wickedness of which he had just now heard, but any other Pecksniff could; and the Pecksniff who could do that could do anything, and no doubt had been doing anything and everything except the right thing, all through his career. 

This is an interesting mixture of direct “telling,” as Dickens describes Tom’s “agitation” and “misery,” with “showing” via metaphor. Pecksniff was a “star” to Tom. Now he is “putrid vapor.” Grieving Pecksniff’s death would have provided Tom with moments of “comfort,” when he remembered the past. But now, every memory Tom has is colored by this revelation. Dickens also taps into the idea of sight vs. blindness, which has been part of the Western literary tradition surrounding epiphanies since the myth of Oedipus, giving us the sort of dramatic revelation that makes for compelling storytelling.

Earlier in the book, the character of Tom Pinch is used for comedic effect, and readers laugh at his ignorance about Pecksniff, but in this chapter, Dickens packs an emotional punch, layering on further metaphors and making it is hard not to feel for him: it was not [Pecksniff] who suffered; it was Tom. His compass was broken, his chart destroyed, his chronometer had stopped, his masts were gone by the board; his anchor was adrift, ten thousand leagues away.

Finally, he makes Tom’s internal epiphany external again via an unlikely, if dramatically satisfying, monologue, which adds to the feeling that we’re watching a scene play out on stage: “I wouldn’t have cared…I wouldn’t have cared for anything he might have done to Me, for I have tried his patience often, and have lived upon his sufferance and have never been the help to him that others could have been. I wouldn’t have minded, Pecksniff,…if you had done Me any wrong; I could have found plenty of excuses for that; and though you might have hurt me, could have still gone on respecting you. But why did you ever fall so low as this in my esteem! Oh Pecksniff, Pecksniff, there is nothing I would not have given, to have had you deserve my old opinion of you; nothing!”

For writers approaching their own epiphany scene, I think there are a few important lessons we can take from Dickens here: limit repetition for readers to maintain their interest; make the dramatic reveal as short as possible but give yourself space, and word count, to explore the emotional aftermath; and consider carefully what you make internal vs. external in your scene. 

What do you think of this important scene from one of Dickens’s less loved novels? Let me know—here, on Facebook, on Instagram, or by tweeting @SVictorianist. Want monthly updates from me sent straight to your inbox? Subscribe here. 

The Top 10 Blog Posts from the Secret Victorianist

I can hardly believe it, but I’ve now been running this blog on nineteenth-century literature and culture for over a decade! The blog has changed a lot over the years as I’ve made the move from London to New York City, my interests have evolved, and I’ve become a published author myself. 

So, in a belated anniversary celebration, I decided to look back through the archives to revisit my top 10 performing posts of all time. 

1. Are YOU an Elizabeth Bennet?

I started my blog with a bang and a LOT of enthusiasm, publishing 13 posts in the first month alone (nowadays my goal of two a month is more achievable). This post, a tongue-in-cheek look at whether I would cut it as an Austen heroine, was one of them. Pride and Prejudice (1813) remains such a cultural touchstone I’m not surprised this article still sees traffic every day—I mean, the 1995 BBC adaptation even got a shout-out in the recent Barbie movie!

2. Tennyson’s ‘To Virgil’: An Exercise in Analyzing Poetry

You’ll see a lot of poetry-focused posts in this top 10 list, which was initially surprising to me. When I write about poetry my promotional posts don’t gain a lot of traction on social media, but when it comes to search engine traffic, those articles rise to the top. My hypothesis is that students are stumbling across my blog when looking for homework help analyzing poems like Tennyson’s ‘To Virgil.’ I can only hope they’re enjoying my write ups, and not just plagiarizing my analysis!

3. Introducing Victorian Poetry to Children

More poetry, but this time with a #KidLit twist. In this blog post I share some more accessible Victorian poems to get children excited about reading verse from the period. 

4. The Best and Worst Tropes in Historical Fiction

This 2018 post is focused on my personal opinions about what works and what doesn’t when it comes to historical fiction tropes (and spoiler alert: I’ve already changed my stance on a few of these issues!). I’d be fascinated in hearing other readers’ views on this topic and what makes a historical novel great to them. 

5. ‘This Genealogical Passion’: Hardy, Incest and Degeneration

The high bounce rates I see from this page suggest that maybe an academic blog on nineteenth-century literature and culture isn’t quite what people are looking for when they Googled “incest” (!), but despite this I selfishly wish more people would read Thomas Hardy’s The Well-Beloved (serialized 1892), one of the strangest Victorian novels out there.

6. Review: Against Nature (À Rebours), Joris-Karl Huysmans (1884)

I’ve written quite a lot about nineteenth-century French literature over the years, but this review of the premier text of the French Decadent movement is far and away the best performing.

7. A Victorian Alphabet: W is for Witchcraft

In 2013-2015 I published a series of posts making a nineteenth-century connection to every single letter of the alphabet (yes, some were easier to think up than others!). While the Victorian period isn’t the one we most associate with witchcraft, this post has been a perennial top performer, especially as we approach Halloween. Here, I focus on the accusations of witchcraft leveled against the character of Eustacia Vye in Thomas Hardy’s The Return of the Native (1878). I also link to my review of Elizabeth Gaskell’s novella, Lois the Witch (1861).

8. A Victorian Alphabet: K is for ‘The Kraken’ (Tennyson, 1830)

More poetry and more Tennyson! In this post I take apart every line of this short and powerful poem about a creature from the deeps. 

9. Misconceptions about Victorian Literature

As a blogger focused on nineteenth-century literature and culture, I often have to contend with people’s preconceptions and misconceptions about what Victorians were like. In this early blog post I tackle the misinformation.

10. A Dickensian Masterclass in Repetition

This is the only writing craft post to make the top 10 and I’m not surprised it’s about lessons we can learn from the master of Victorian literature himself—Charles Dickens. While I do references Dickens’s most famously repetitious passages—the openings of Bleak House (serialized 1852-1853) and A Tale of Two Cities (1859)—it’s his lesser-read 1848 novella The Haunted Man and the Ghost’s Bargain that I do a close reading of here.

What would you like to see me write about next as the blog goes into its second decade? Let me know—here, on Facebook, on Instagram, or by tweeting @SVictorianist. Interested in getting regular updates from my blog and on my fiction? Sign up to my monthly email newsletter here.

The Craziest Deaths in Victorian Novels

Happy Halloween, everyone! Today’s festivities have put me in a macabre and morbid mood so for today’s blog post, I’m running through some of the best (or worst?) ways to die in a Victorian novel. If you like your fictional deaths as strange, memorable and zany as possible, you’re in for a treat. 

My Halloween costume this year

Spontaneous Combustion

Who could forget the strange demise of Mr. Krook in Charles Dickens’s masterpiece Bleak House (1852-1853)? His death is the most famous literary example of human spontaneous combustion i.e. when a person goes up in flames for no reason at all. 

Railway Accident

Victorians were terrified of newfangled train travel and, if we’re to believe the novels, for good reason! There are options here: die instantly in a crash or suffocate to death in a tunnel. Or, if you’re Isabel Vane in Ellen Wood’s East Lynne (1861), become disfigured in a derailing before returning to your family in disguise to act as governess to the children you abandoned to run off with your dashing and dastardly love.

Baby Farm

Your odds of surviving infancy weren’t great in the nineteenth century. But they were even worse if you were divided from your mother and put in a “baby farm” i.e. cheap daycare where you were, at best, neglected and, at worst, given poisoned formula. Check out George Moore’s 1894 novel, Esther Waters, for more on this practice.

Switching Places with a Doppelgänger 

Finding someone who looks just like you = all fun and games, until they find themselves destined for the guillotine, and you take their place in a heroic act for the woman you love…according to Dickens in A Tale of Two Cities (1859), anyway.

Sibling Violence

Who hasn’t bickered with a sibling? But let’s just hope your brother isn’t Little Father Time from Thomas Hardy’s Jude the Obscure (1895), who commits a grisly murder/suicide. 

Fire!

If you’re a madwoman who lives in an attic (like Bertha in Charlotte Bronte’s 1847 Jane Eyre) or a crazy old maid who wears her wedding dress every day (like Miss Havisham in Charles Dickens’s 1860-1861 Great Expectations), step away from the candle! 

Consumption

Yes, you’ll still die. But you’ll look beautiful doing it, just like many Victorian heroines. “Consumption, I am aware, is a flattering malady,” Charlotte Bronte wrote in 1849. I’ll take her word for it.

What other literary deaths have I missed? Do you have a favorite strange nineteenth-century character ending? Let me know—here, on Facebook, on Instagram, or by tweeting @SVictorianist.

My nineteenth-century-set novel, Bronte’s Mistress, which includes one example from this list, is available in hardcover, paperback, audiobook, and e-book right now. For regular updates on my blog and writing, sign up to my monthly digital newsletter below.

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Writers’ Questions: How should I edit my novel?

Ever since the sale of my debut novel, Bronte’s Mistress, I’ve been answering questions about the writing and publication process on my blog. Today, I’m tackling the all-important topic of revision. 

This was a tricky one to write, as, unlike some authors who have a structured editing process (e.g. doing different edits for character, plot, sentence-level etc.), I a) revise a lot as I go, and b) make all of these changes at once. Rather than a step-by-step guide then, think of this blog post as a list of things to watch out for, no matter when and how you choose to do your edits. 

A final disclaimer is that I am a traditionally published writer. This article is assuming that you’re writing a book to submit to literary agents, rather than preparing to self-publish a manuscript. These tips are not designed to replace the need for a professional edit and copy-edit. 

So, let’s get into it. In no particular order, here are just some of the things to watch out for when you’re reading your novel with fresh eyes.

Inconsistent details

Does your character have blue eyes in Chapter Four, but brown eyes by Chapter Seven? Is the sunset visible from the same window where your cast watched the sunrise just hours before? Sure, maybe only a few readers will pick up on these errors, but for those who do, this kind of sloppiness will negatively impact their immersion in your world. You know your book better than anyone (after all, you wrote it!), so get the details right. 

Confused time/date/weather markers

I understand: things change as you write a novel, and sometimes the markers in your prose of how time is passing suffer as a result. Read your manuscript through this lens to see if you’re giving your readers enough info to understand where they are in time…and not inadvertently turning back the clocks or creating a crazy climate.

Point of view violations

I’ve written a whole blog post in this series on what point of view is and how important getting it right is to the success of a novel. In short, readers need to understand whose viewpoint we’re experiencing your story from, or, to borrow an analogy from filmmaking, where the camera is placed. Look for moments big and small where you’ve included information your point of view character couldn’t possibly know and cull them mercilessly. While you’re at it, also check you’re not employing filter words and distancing us from your chosen perspective.

Repeated words

Every writer has favourite words, but each time you inadvertently repeat one, it loses its power. Be aware of your writing habits and switch up your vocabulary where you can. Listening to your novel via text-to-speech applications can be particularly helpful here. That said, there is also a time and place for repetition. Check our this post I wrote eight years ago on how Charles Dickens employs repetition to great effect in one of his short stories.

Adverbs

This is another topic I’ve written about before, so you can read a full explanation here. TL/DR: adverbs are often a symptom of too much telling and not enough showing.

Telling

This leads us to telling in its many other forms. The most egregious to my mind is naming emotions to explain to readers how your character is feeling. Can you show us instead, through actions, body language, and dialogue? I’ve previously shared more thoughts on showing vs. telling here.

Lack of rhythmic variety

Having too many sentences in a row with the same number of words, words of the same number of syllables, repeated words beginning or ending the sentence, or identical sentence structures is the quickest way to put your readers to sleep, regardless of your book’s content. This is another area where listening to your work when editing is a godsend. Mix it up! 

Excessive use of passive voice

Like rhythmic monotony, constant use of the passive vs. active voice acts as a soporific, while also robbing your characters of agency. I’ve written a detailed blog post if you want to get better at spotting and eradicating unnecessary passive (hot tip: if you can add “by zombies” to a clause, you’re using passive!).

Anachronism

As a historical novelist, I have to be eagle-eyed to ensure I’m not ruining the illusion of transporting my readers to the past. Part of this for me is spending a lot of time while editing looking at etymology and date of first usage for words to maintain historical accuracy even at a sentence level.

Incorrect formatting

There’s a standard way to format a novel manuscript and its constituent parts (e.g. dialogue). Learn the best practices and employ them in your edit, even if your first draft was written by hand or in a non-standard format that works for you.

Spelling and grammar errors

Oh yes, and you have to have perfect spelling and grammar too! Don’t just think “the copyeditor will fix this later.” It’s on you to make your novel as great as you can—alone.

So, there you have it—an incomplete list of ways to get started if you’re tackling an edit! It’s a lot of hard work, but just know that with every change you execute, you’re making your book more powerful.

What topic would you like to see me write about next as part of my Writers’ Questions series? Let me know—here, on Facebook, on Instagram, or by tweeting @SVictorianist. My novel Bronte’s Mistress is available for order now, and for monthly updates from me delivered direct to your inbox, sign up for my email newsletter below.

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(More!) Novels of the French Revolution

Back in October, to celebrate the release of Ribbons of Scarlet (2019)—a multi-authored historical novel about the women of the French Revolution—I strayed out of the nineteenth century and into the late eighteenth, with a round up of the best novels I’d read set during that tumultuous period.

I reviewed Andrew Miller’s Pure (2011), Hilary Mantel’s A Place of Greater Safety (1992), Daphne du Maurier’s The Glassblowers (1963), and the most iconic of all novels of the French Revolution, Charles Dickens’s A Tale of Two Cities (1859).

Eight months later, I’m back, with thoughts on three more novels, which take this bloody conflict as their backdrop.

Mistress of the Revolution, Catherine Delors (2008)

Delors’s novel centres on noblewoman Gabrielle—first, on the trials and tribulations of her childhood, doomed adolescent love and horrific forced marriage, and, later, on how she becomes embroiled in the events of the revolution. Gabrielle’s lot is a believable, if dramatic, one, but her character is underdeveloped and she seems to offer little beyond her attractiveness (her main bargaining chip throughout the book). There’s plenty of sexual content to titillate and horrify by turns, and Delors covers a lot of ground historically, incorporating some great details. Yet, on occasion, passages of political exposition become a little skim-worthy.

Becoming Josephine, Heather Webb (2013)

Webb’s protagonist’s biography would strain our credulity were it not true! This novel takes the future Empress Josephine as its subject, from her childhood in Martinique, to her terrible first marriage (there’s a theme here), to her love with Napoleon, to the pressures mounted on her to produce an heir, and beyond. Josephine was placed to be a great observer of the revolution, so these sections in particular are well wrought, and the nuances of her relationship with Napoleon come through. However the later parts of her life are a little rushed. I wish Webb had ended sooner, so the book had a clear novelistic arc vs. bordering on dramatized biography.

Little, Edward Carey (2018)

Carey’s Little (my most recent revolutionary read) is a very different beast. Like Webb, he takes a real person, who had a front row seat at the revolution, as his main character. In this case, it’s Marie Grosholtz, still famous the world over as Madame Tussaud. However, Carey isn’t constrained by history. His novel reads as an imaginative response to the art of waxworks, against the backdrop of a violent period when real bodies were frequently dismembered. His Marie (referred to by other characters as “Little” due to her diminutive size) is obsessed with bodies—their innards and their outer flaws and features. Illustrated by the author, this isn’t a read for the faint-hearted or weak-stomached, but it captures the madness and horror of the French Revolution, as well as the obsession with objects (clothes, wigs, locks, wax figures), which gave so many eighteenth-century Parisians their livelihood.

Do you know of any more great books set during the French Revolution? Let me know—here, on Facebook, on Instagram, or by tweeting @SVictorianist.

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Neo-Victorian Voices: Westering Women, Sandra Dallas (2020)

In the last three posts in my Neo-Victorian Voices series, on novels set in the nineteenth century, but written in the twenty-first, we’ve returned to Jane Austen’s English countryside, entered the cellar of a depraved London taxidermist, and revisited Charles Dickens’s ever-popular A Christmas Carol.

This week, we’re in 1850s America, as, in Westering Women (2020), Sandra Dallas imagines the journey of forty women “of high moral character”, who set out on a journey from Chicago to California in search of a better life. All are ostensibly risking the perilous Overland Trail to find husbands among the gold seekers, but many are running away from the past—abusive men, prostitution, even possible murder convictions.

Westering Women (2020)

The main character Maggie is a mother, who’s been battered by her husband and needs to get as far from Chicago as she can. She is also a dressmaker and I enjoyed how her sewing skills contributed to the story and how her eye for clothing and materials gave us a specific lens on the cities and settlements the women pass through.

Dallas’s research shines through in her depiction of the trail, the physical toll it takes on the women and the changing landscapes and climates they travel through. With a large cast and epic journey to cover, she does a great job in showing the transformative effect of this adventure on the women, in terms of their sense of self worth, the physical objects they value and their relationships with each other. This is a novel about womanhood, sisterhood, motherhood and friendship, where men act at worst as the agents of evil and at best as slightly weak supporting characters.

Sandra Dallas (1939- )

Dallas kept me guessing about who would make it to the journey’s end (spoiler alert: it’s not all of them) and ratcheted up the tension, as the weather, Native American warriors, pursuing forces from back home and men in the wagon train’s midst threaten the group’s safety.

I’d recommend the novel to anyone interested in learning about this period of American history and the mass migration of many (including women and families) under such trying circumstances. The book is focused on the journey itself rather than on California and those panning for gold there, which makes the ending feel a little rushed, but it’s nice to be given space to imagine the surviving women’s lives there.

The novel also walks an interesting line, in being at times heart-warming with a strong sense of inclusive and forgiving Christian morality, while at others dealing with brutal sexual and physical violence. The treatment of, and attitudes towards, black and Native American characters is in line with historical realities, which can also make for emotionally difficult reading. This isn’t escapist historical fiction that will leave you longing for a romantic past. I for one will feel pretty grateful the next time I hop on a quick six-hour flight to California!

Do you have any recommendations for novels I should read next in my Neo-Victorian Voices series? If so, let me know—here, on Facebook, via Instagram, or by tweeting @SVictorianist.

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