Straight from the Source: R. L. Toalson on Writing Historical Fiction

What typically comes first for you: a character? An era? A story idea? How do you proceed from there?

Character usually always comes first for me. Sometimes (but not always), in my historical fiction, the character comes alongside an era. For my novel in verse, The Colors of the Rain, main character Paulie came to me in a vision, and he was very clearly a child of the 1970s. That led me to research what was happening in Houston, Texas (he told me that’s where he lived), in the 1970s, and the history I discovered was the perfect addition to his story. For my historical fantasy, The Woods, the situation came first—I read an article about a historical event in Texas that I’d never heard about, despite having lived in Texas for most of my life. That led me to a book about the Texas City Disaster, which is where the story begins—and in reading about that, I envisioned a girl named Lenora who was lying in the middle of a dense forest in the piney woods of Texas, where she’d relocated after the disaster. She belonged there. It was her story.

Love, Sivvy, was different in that while the character (Sylvia Plath) came to me (or, rather, had always been with me), she was also a real person in a real time period, so I didn’t have to think about what years and history I’d highlight. 

How do you conduct your research? 

I usually begin my research with books. I try to locate as many primary sources as I can and books that reference those primary sources. I don’t have the budget to travel places and hold those actual sources in my hands (such as diary pages for the people I’m writing about), since they’re typically kept in academic libraries far away from where I live in Texas. I deeply appreciate the editors of collections like Sylvia Plath’s letters and her journals, making them accessible to people who might not have the resources to see them in person.

Once I’ve read every book I can, I look for people I might interview for more information, if I need it, or I read or watch videos of interviews with people from the time period. I watch documentaries, read old archived articles and sort through secondary sources for any snippets I may have missed. I try to read everything with a critical eye, paying careful attention to bias and speculation. It requires a media savvy that I’m glad I’ve honed not only by studying journalism in college and working as a journalist for years before I became a novelist, but also through my naturally skeptical nature. 

Do you have a specific system for collecting data? 

How I wish I had a great system for collecting the data. I have several notebooks, and sometimes I don’t remember which notebook I recorded which detail in. Sometimes I record my notes on Scrivener documents on my computer (Scrivener is the program I use to revise all my books; I write every first draft by hand), and I have to try to remember where I might have filed it. My brain always thinks it’s come up with a great solution, until I actually need the information.

But generally, once I locate the pieces of my research, I gather them all in the same Scrivener document, so I can find them easily. (So there’s a very basic system.) I then arrange them into which chapter needs them, and I print out that “brainstorm” and begin on my first draft.

At what point do you feel comfortable beginning to draft? How does your research continue once you begin writing?

It’s so hard for me to put away the research. I’m insatiably curious and want to know everything I possibly can about everything. I usually know when I have enough research to at least begin a draft when I can sit and think about the time period/person without more than a few questions popping up. Of course, if questions arise during my writing, I’ll happily dive back into the research. But I’d never get started if I kept researching every tangent and trail I’m curious about. 

I’ve read that some authors wait until they can summarize situations before they’ll start writing, but my neurodivergent brain loves details and hangs on to so many that I get confused without my notes, so I just make sure there are no holes anywhere and I feel like I have a good grasp of who people are and what happened and what to highlight about the time period. Sometimes I’ll get a whole draft down, and before I go back to revise it, I’ll do another few months of research, just to expand the color and personality of the story.

What’s your favorite thing about writing historical fiction?

I love uncovering little-known pieces of history and bringing them to life in a story. I love imagining what life would have been like during a time before I was alive. I love learning about all kinds of things—the women’s movement and the spiritualist craze that hit America in the mid-19^th century and the riot grrl punk rock movement (all things I’m researching right now). I love reading the dairies of historical people, learning their secrets in ways we don’t always get to do in modern times because of how curated our lives are. (I’m exceedingly nosy about other people—probably a quirk of my neurodivergence.) I love that I get to spend time in the heads of people who actually lived and in places that actually existed, navigating events that actually happened. There’s something magical about spending time there but not actually having to live through a time that didn’t have indoor plumbing. ☺

Because life isn’t always clear cut, the motives behind our actions don’t always make sense. But stories need to follow a logical path. What sorts of decisions have you had to make about “muddy” historical figures or events in order for your book to work?

When I was writing Love, Sivvy, I had to make lots of these decisions. There’s a massive volume of information and detail available about the life of Sylvia Plath, but the details (direct quotes from her diaries or letters, where she recorded conversations) are copyrighted. So I had to paraphrase sections I would have liked to write as direct quotes. I had to attempt to capture the “spirit” of a conversation, rather than the actual words said. And where details didn’t exist, I had to imagine what happened in the gaps. I had to change the names of people—a couple of men named John or women named Marcia, for example—and combine characters so readers didn’t get confused. And for the sake of a streamlined story, I had to move around a couple of events (only very slightly, and not major events). 

That might be the hardest part of writing historical fiction for me—making the decisions for what to do in such situations. You want to remain as close to the historical record as possible, but you also want to make sure readers stick with you. As a former journalist, I have to constantly remind myself that this is a story based on a real life or a real event or a real time period in history, not an official historical account. 

Why is historical fiction important?

History shows us patterns. It teaches us the mistakes of the past so we can do better. It shows us where we’ve been so we can see where we’re going. It offers an explanation for where we find ourselves today. All of that is important for understanding the fabric of our society and our own patterns of thinking and believing. When I visit schools and talk about history, I talk about how we all have personal histories, too, and how those are important for understanding how to change, how to become the best version of ourselves. If we never look back, we can’t learn from the mistakes we’ve made, and we’re more likely to repeat those mistakes. (Journaling, by the way, is a great way to preserve our personal history and show us mistakes of the past.)

History also gives us examples of people who overcame extraordinary challenges and persisted in their dreams and goals. That’s one of my favorite pieces of history. When I read the stories of people like Sylvia Plath and the Brontë sisters (my next project) and students in 1970s Houston who chose to embrace integration even as their parents protested it, I can’t help but think, All those challenges, and they never gave up. I can persist, too. History is a powerful testament to our resilience.

R.L. Toalson is the author of The Colors of the Rain, which won the Arnold Adoff Poetry Honor Award for New Voices in 2020; The Woods; The First Magnificent Summer; and Something Maybe Magnificent. She lives in San Antonio, Texas, with her one brilliant husband, six delightful children, and two arrogant cats. She invites you to visit her at racheltoalson.com.