Alfred Von Wierusz-Kowalski (1848 – 1915) ‘Giddy Up’

In the past, travelling took much longer. Because journeys took longer, messages took weeks to arrive, and news was days old by the time it reached you. Talking to historical fiction writers who are starting out, I often find that one of the first things they have had to google, is how long it takes to ride from A to B by horse. Many arguments and opinions exist about this data, see the discussion here for an example. Time and distance affect the plotting, as when someone says they will go from London to York ‘immediately’ – the ‘immediately’ can be several days of waiting, and thus the immediacy – and therefore the plot tension – soon dissipates.

Dick Turpin’s famous ride on Black Bess supposedly took him from London to York in less than 15 hours, and is the most famous legend of the Great North Road. (Historians of course claim that the ride wasn’t by Turpin at all, but by “Swift Nick”, a.k.a John Nevison, a highwayman in the time of Charles II – see more on him, here.) But this seems a little ambitious to me, not to mention hard on Black Bess.

Which brings me to deadly sin no 5; spending too much time in transition.

Dick Turpin apart, on such long journeys by horse, it is tempting to describe the terrain, to note all the villages that pass, or have the characters engage in conversation to pass this necessary time. With a long journey, this soon becomes tedious unless scenes on the journey are vital for character, or integral to the plot. Aware of this, many writers try to insert a few plot events, but often this doesn’t work, because the reader knows this is just a journey, and  suspects (rightly) that the author is struggling to fill the necessary time with interest. The answer is usually brevity. Something like this –

‘Highgate and Hatfield, Baldock and Biggleswade; he was so lost in thought, he barely noticed them.’

As a historical novelist – this ‘clock time’ is actually the least of our problems. Sometimes a novel needs to unfold in a different way, i.e. not in real time. We might need to jump back in time, or shoot forward. Often we might want to cover months or years between relevant events. Smooth transitions are essential. One of the best ways I have found to bridge these enormous gaps is to use emotional tone to make the bridge. The reader is in one emotional state at the end of a chapter, and even if the next chapter is fifteen years further into the future, or ten years in the past, if the same emotional state persists for the reader, it smooths the way, and feels like an easy transition.

At the same time, it is not necessary to join all the dots. Readers are used to ‘scene cuts’ where we flash from one scene to the next, particularly when building pace. However, to avoid disorientating the reader, all time must be accounted for in some way, particularly if the time shift is big, or out of sequence with the ‘real time’ of the novel.

A quick indication is all that is needed, for example, ‘Years passed, and the once-new paint on the front door had begun to crack and peel.’ A specific detail which bridges one time period to the next (as in the door) is a good way to do this.

Still worrying about horses and carriages and distances? For the real low-down on horse-drawn travel in days gone by, read Sue Millard’s excellent post on horses and carriages here.

You might also like:

Deadly Sin 1 – Melodrama

Deadly Sin 2  – Purple Prose

Deadly Sin 3 – Stuck in the Past

Deadly Sin no 4 – Lost or Glossary?