Research is an essential element in preparing to write a historical fiction novel. It’s tempting to share all the fascinating facts and details we uncover with our readers. The challenge for the author lies in deciding what and how much to include, and what to edit out. Unfortunately, not every fact or detail enhances or helps propel the story narrative forward. Too much exposition or irrelevant tangents bog down the pacing. But sometimes there is that amazing, little-known tidbit that changes everything—a piece of information, perhaps a prevailing belief or event, that influences how our character thinks or behaves and enhances the storytelling or takes it in directions we never imagined.

I asked our Lanterns to share with me a historical fact that they discovered during their research that influenced the narrative or the characters in their novels. The responses were quite diverse.

Linda Ulleseit discovered some soon to be very famous people lived near her ancestors.

I began researching the story that became my novel The River Remembers with the idea that I was discovering my ancestor who’d been born there in 1836—finding out about her parents and what their life was like. The treasure trove of information that I uncovered was exciting. My ancestor’s father was an interim civilian sutler (like a storekeeper) at the fort during political wranglings with the Native Americans. At the time, Zachary Taylor commanded the fort and lived there with his family. His daughter, Sarah, was a bridesmaid at the sutler’s wedding to the sister of a prominent judge in nearby Prairie du Chien. Then Sarah eloped with Jefferson Davis, future president of the Confederacy. I included these people in my novel, of course, but couldn’t fully develop their story. Watch for our next anthology, coming this Fall, for a story about Sarah and Jefferson.

Jonathan Posner discovered a ‘person of interest.’

My current work-in-progress is the third adventure of my Tudor heroine, Mary Fox. I had previously decided that I would send her down to the Bay of Naples in 1538, as I wanted to set her climactic scene against the (actual) eruption of Monte Nuovo. This meant she would pass through much of the Italian peninsula in the months leading up to the eruption, so I looked for significant events she might have encountered.

I soon found that in 1537, Alessandro de Medici, Duke of Florence, was assassinated by his cousin, Lorenzino. But the interesting fact was that the actual killer was a paid assassin called Scoronconcolo. The more I researched, the more I found that very little was recorded about this Scoronconcolo—giving me the opportunity to make him an arch-villain character to do battle with Mary. There’s even no description of him—which is unsurprising, as only the rich could afford to have their portraits painted. So I could even create his physical characteristics!

Look out for Mary doing battle with Scoronconcolo in The River of Fire – due out at the end of 2024.

Edie Cay discovered aristocratic women participated in sport.

While researching my first series, When the Blood Is Up, I was specifically looking at women’s boxing. I was told that only lower-class women of the era engaged in this, and that “nice” women didn’t *do* this sort of thing. But as I looked deeper, I found that footraces of both sexes were absolutely a thing during festival days all over England during the 16th and 17th centuries.

Women raced against other women, men raced against men. Sometimes couples raced, with the man carrying the woman piggybacked or on his shoulders. They won prizes gifted by the aristocrat who owned the land. But the reason why the young lady of the manor didn’t run wasn’t because she was “better” or “nicer,” it was because she didn’t need/want the prize given by her father. She usually raced at the end, when the foot races were for bragging rights.

This was eye-opening to me: these aristocratic young ladies weren’t necessarily barred from physical activity—as they were in later Victorian society. They weren’t engaging because it was good form to leave the money on the table for others who needed it more. This definitely influenced the arc of Lydia in A Lady’s Revenge, whose “Rocky”-esque moment is about her engaging in the fight, not necessarily winning it. And gave me confidence to have Bess in The Boxer and the Blacksmith, engage in running for her pre-fight workouts—a common prescription for fighters during the 19th century as detailed in primary sources.

C.V. Lee discovered a different perspective on sex and marriage.

It is easy to think that certain views of women have existed throughout the ages, that they are only beginning to change in this current age. Many of our current expectations of women, or how we think women in the past were, are remnants of the Victorian era. When researching my novels set in the 15th century, I discovered women were thought to have an insatiable sexual appetite, much more so than men. The prevailing thought was that women were temptresses and seductresses.

In Medieval times, there wasn’t the same official documentation for a marriage as we have now. The banns were read in church and maybe recorded in the church registry. However, common law marriage was not unusual among the common folk. A marriage could be just as simple as two people just deciding they were married and begin cohabitating. Sometimes these marriages took place in the bed.

With the acceptance that women were sexual beings, and enjoyed the marriage bed, I allowed my female characters to be bolder, particularly in book 2, Betrayal of Trust. Margaret is the one pushing to consummate her marriage, and it is Wilhelmina who tricks Clement into a common law marriage.

Kathryn Pritchett discovered something quite unexpected about a famous singer.

When I was researching my WIP (work-in-progress) about Gilded Age actress Maude Adams, I came across a surprising player in the theatrical world of turn-of-the-century Salt Lake City. Madame Pattirini was billed as a famous Italian opera singer when she sang for Utah audiences. But the Madame was actually Brigham Morris Young, son (and 35th child!) of the Mormon prophet Brigham Young. Morris—he went by his middle name—frequently performed for leaders of the faith as well as general audiences at the Salt Lake Theatre and church meetinghouses. Attired in elegant dresses and flashy jewelry, Morris sang in a high-falsetto soprano voice. He vamped for the audience, then ended his act by pulling off his wig, revealing that he was indeed a man.

Maude Adams was born in Salt Lake City where her actress mother also performed at the Salt Lake Theatre. In my book, I have Broadway sensation Maude—who as an adult frequently toured traveling productions through her hometown—catch a performance by Morris. I thought that since she was a closeted lesbian who often cross-dressed on stage, including for her most famous role as Peter Pan, she would have taken courage from the audience’s delight in Morris’s gender-bending act.

I have always appreciated how historical fiction provides a unique vehicle through which we can time travel into the past, letting us and experience the struggles and triumphs of peoples and cultures of bygone eras. It is often those little-known facts and details that provide an added layer of authenticity, making the story resonate with readers on a deeper level.