How many words can a writer of historical fiction cram into an historical character’s mouth? I’ve been told in no uncertain terms: “None!” As in, “How can you dare be so presumptuous to make-up one word that was spoken by (take your pick:) George Washington… or Napoleon, or the Buddha, or Catharine the Great, or Elvis?!!” I’ve never written about any of those very historical people, but you get my point: When you’re writing about real people, anything said that can’t be documented is so often regarded as a certain kind of lie, or at least less respected than an utterance that was gleaned from a footnoted source.
“Fiction” is story telling using imagination – a creative source that historians dare not allow. One of the greatest historians writing today is Rick Atkinson doing three volumes on the American Revolution. He describes (and documents) Martha Washington arriving at her husband’s winter quarters with vital necessities for the cold struggle to come. Atkinson gives his readers the date and a list of provender – but nothing of what they might have said over their dinner of good claret, venison, root vegetables and of course, a cherry cobbler with brandy cream. I’ve always wanted to ask Mr. Atkinson if he’s ever just wanted to go ahead and have at the scene with what I presume to be a fecund creative power.
(Full disclosure: my imagination just created that menu. I can’t help myself. If you want to know what gossip the Washingtons shared about John and Abigail Adams over the main course, or what endearments passed between them later in the evening, let me know. I’ll give it a shot – but only after a close reading of Mr. Atkinson!)
My point, continuing: If I’ve done enough research to know my historical subjects as far as the recorded references have taken them, is not a broader truth better served with what my imagination based on all those facts might conjure?