January 2026
- Jackie French
- 5 days ago
- 11 min read
The Perils of Writing Historical Fiction
I began the new year back in 1842, though I return for meals, visitors and all modern conveniences.
When I left the current novel I'm writing the heroic bullocky had just seen animals in agony. He pulls out his firearm - which would be a muzzle loader - and dashes out to put them down...
Except he can’t. He needs black powder, priming powder, a ram rod, a choice of projectile, wadding and much else depending on the choice of weapon, and by the time I explained all that we’d have covered two pages, and the reader would be bored, unless they had a passion for firearms in the 1800s.
I compromised by saying ‘firearm and shooting pouch’ and having the deed hidden by the mist.
So much of every day back in the 1840s - or any time pre about 1970 - was filled with stuff few today remember or know about. But how much is needed for atmosphere? Add too much and it becomes an infodump, clogging up the story. But our way of life changes so drastically every few decades. Without some info-dumping the reader will imagine what isn't there - and probably not imagine the ankle high rubbish in city streets, the gutters that ran with gunk and perpetual stink till the 1970s sewerage reforms of the Whitlam government or the ubiquitous gloves on any respectable woman as soon as she left her home.
Even in the early 1960s few people had fridges, only iceboxes kept cold by twice weekly deliveries of giant blocks of ice, and even fewer had telephones. We had the only one around for several years. Sometimes there’d be a queue of people waiting on the veranda to use it, slipping sixpences or shillings into the money box next to it to pay for their calls.
We also had the first tv set, which meant after dinner visits by the neighbours. Mum would put out Jatz crackers with cheese and tomato or cheese and a small pickled onion, either red or green - the height of elegant snacking back then, and one that even Mum could make. Mum was possibly Australia’s worst cook. I used to hide her offerings on ‘bring a cake day’ at school. Her meringues stretched across the whole kitchen and her chocolate cake resembled bricks. Or maybe she decided not to bother with the ‘cake’ bit and just iced a brick, assuming no one would know who’d sent it.
But at least we had a washing machine. Many neighbours still had only a copper. Clothes were boiled and stirred with the ‘copper stick’ then laboriously wrung out, then rinsed. I fed our wet clothes through the mangle as Mum turned the handle.
Back in the 1840s a household’s wash took a woman all of Monday - and that didn’t include ironing. Wealthy households had someone come in to do the weekly wash or sent it to the laundry once a month or even every six months. Queen Victoria had 365 sets of underwear, all numbered, as her household laundry was every six months or so, though that depended on which of her households she was staying in.
Then there was trimming the wicks of the lamps - I did that in the years we didn’t have electricity. It took about half an hour for two rooms. Heating the water for a bath took at least an hour on the stove. The weekly shop took at least a morning, with different shops for vegetables, meat, bread and cakes, groceries, fruit and veg.
There were also few public toilets. Correction - there were actually more public toilets pre-1960, but roads were poor, and vehicles slower, and even many urban areas weren’t sewered, so a ‘public toilet’ was a very smelly pit, or an even smellier pile that the pub owner scattered with dirt every morning. Or not.
Only the desperate used a public pit dunny. Toilet stops were ‘ladies to the right of the vehicle, gents to the left’.
But back to writing historical fiction. How much every day activity do you put in? The vast amount of darning? Even the wealthy darned sheets or socks instead of buying new ones. The time taken to make every meal from scratch, though as bakeries were common, all but the most isolated had access to extremely good preservative free bread. ‘Bread and cheese’ was a common meal substitute, be it breakfast, lunch or dinner, or ‘bread and lard’ for the poor or servants, but the lard could be delicious, flavoured with rosemary or other herbs from last week’s roast lamb, and with jellied meat shreds under the layer of fat.
Then there are gems I’d love to include, like the adventure of a female pilot early in World War Two, when the British Government expected the women in the RAF to wear narrow dark blue skirts when delivering planes from factory to the aerodrome where they’d be deployed.
This particular young woman had nearly reached her destination when the entire undercarriage dropped off. She should have sensibly parachuted out - but one of the parachute straps went between the legs, and her skirt would have ridden up ‘and everyone would have seen my stocking tops and even my knickers.’
So - miraculously and with extraordinary skill - she landed half an aircraft and was presented with a medal by the queen for preserving a valuable craft at great risk to her like. But as she said, ‘I’ve been embarrassed every time I wear it, as I only did it to stop anyone seeing my knickers.’ I would love to include that, somewhere. But it might have nothing to do with the plot. How much ‘local colour’ is needed?
I have to go over every book I write, cutting out great lumps of explanation. And I should probably get back to doing it for the latest book. The heroic bullocky is still out in the fog, where the inexperienced bullocky has let his carts, and team, slide down a muddy mountain…. and you and every other reader probably don’t want a page of explanation about colonial roads and ‘slides’ of the 1840s.
New Year Resolutions
I haven’t really done New Year resolutions since I was ten, on the grounds that if it needed a resolution I should probably begin at once. This means that once again, I don’t have any resolutions waiting to be put into practise.
I’ve tried to think of some, but ‘stop talking so much about interesting historical cover ups’ was put into practise a few days ago when I saw the glazed look on my companions faces, and I’m unlikely to follow ‘do not eat so much ‘Not Christmas Cake’ (see Recipes for leftovers). The best I can do is not make another one for another 11 months.
I can think of some national and global resolutions that should be made, especially as a very young boy informed me last week that grizzly bears and polar bears have interbred due to climate change (Correct and I was impressed) and that we’d all be drowned in fifty years because the icecaps will have melted. (Incorrect. I told him that even if all the ice in the world melted the sea level would only rise 70 metres and as his home was 300 metres above sea level it would still be a long way to the beach, even if Australia got an inland sea. Plus, if the Gulf Stream stopped or changed drastically some places might get much colder and rivers might become glaciers.)
I also told him not to worry, as humans were good at solving problems, even if they didn’t get around to admitting they were problems till the last minute.
Which isn’t a lie: I don’t lie to kids, or anyone, come to think of it, though admittedly it’s ‘tell the truth and nothing but the truth’ but not always ‘the whole truth’ except on a need-to-know basis. Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny aren’t lies, but ‘cultural myths we play along with.’ Yes, I know that’s pushing the ‘not a lie’ envelope a bit. But encouraging kids to ‘pretend’ helps them learn to imagine - imagination is pretty much a learned skill. The more you do it, the better you get, and imagination is going to be needed to find solutions to stop that ‘not quite’ 70 metre sea' rise.
So instead of New Year Resolutions, may I wish you and yours a joyous, hope filled, book rich 2026, with unexpected outbreaks of peace, kindness, compassion and goodwill to humans and other species.
Or, in short, ‘Happy New Year’.
Wombat News
It’s dry. The grass here is brown, except where it’s bare dirt, or around the house, where I’m keeping a small amount of green. This is Wild Whisker’s territory, and there are wombat shrieks every night as she reinforces her possession. No other animal is allowed near her grass, and she leaves large droppings around the house to emphasise the fact.
Rosie wallaby still forages here, but only at dusk, before Wild Whiskers emerges. We aren’t putting out pelleted food for the wildlife yet - there’s still enough brown grass around, and the animals here all look well fed. Thankfully there’s still water in the creek, too.
But I wish it would rain. And so does Wild Whiskers. Though ‘sharing’ is not a concept she enjoys, even when the grass is lush.
the books of 2025
Adult
Historical fiction for adults, as Lady Dee uncovers the (true) plot to instal the Duke of Windsor back on the throne.
It’s a love story: why does British intelligence warn her to stay away from a heroic Aussie pilot?
It’s a mystery: is the man who staggers up the smugglers tunnel really the lost duke? Why do the three evacuee children refuse to give Dee their names?
It’s an expose of secrets, where men die just to save the royal family from embarrassment. It’s glorious escapism, and just sometimes profound.
Ages 12+
1942
Japan has bombed Sydney Harbour. Sixteen-year-old orphan Ossie lies about his age to fight imminent invasion in New Guinea, but must leave his only family, one eyed dog, Lucky. Kind-hearted Mrs Plum is already caring for 46 dogs for far away soldiers. It is almost impossible to even feed them. There are no rations for dogs. Enter 13-year-old Kat Murphy, evacuated from harbourside Sydney to a new school and an aunt she hardly knows. Kat and Mrs Plum will forge a partnership, gathering support for all the animals. Ossie will see first-hand, the mushroom cloud rise above Nagasaki and its aftermath, and Kat will see it too, in a strange telepathic like connection between her, Ossie and the dog they both love.
This book is not just an adventure story: it is an important history of a time that had been hidden, when the Japanese Military Government planned to kill 10 million Japanese civilians, and even kidnapped the emperor for three days, to prevent the surrender.
As we remember the 80th anniversary of the first atomic bombing, this knowledge is vital to our understanding of what can happen in a war, and the first step to prevent it, too. But most readers will simply love the story of Kat, Ossie, and Mrs Plum. This is a book of unexpected kindness and generosity and many kinds of love.
Ages 12+
Published in 2024 but mentioned now because it was shortlisted for the Children’s Book Council of Australia (CBCA) Awards. It’s glorious fun and also lets kids relive and understand the gold rush era, particularly the treks by Chinese miners, so often neglected and almost always misunderstood in the history books.
Ages 3+
With the glorious Danny Snell, this is the true story of the young kangaroo who travelled possibly 100 kilometres to find water here, in the drought of 2019, and who is now ‘Big Boss’ of the kangaroos around our house.
Reissued by CSIRO. There are many myths about companion planting. This book is what works.
in the garden
It is too hot to garden- seedlings may cook even if kept damp. Just water, unless you are in an area that’s flooded, instead of drought like us.
Recipes for Leftovers
Not Quite Coronation Chicken
Turkey or chicken
Mix:
3 cups chopped meat
1 cup mayonnaise
Half cup thickened cream
6 tb apricot jam
2 tsp curry powder or paste, or more to taste
Optional: chopped celery or artichoke hearts, sliced capsicum, very finely chopped parsley and /or chives.
Tropical Salad
Mix:
3 cups chopped or sliced meat
4 cups shredded lettuce
2 cups chopped mango
6 tb olive oil
Juice of one lemon
1 tsp salt or less if preferred
Optional sliced cucumber, chopped apple, capsicum, artichoke hearts, asparagus, halved or whole cherry tomatoes, very finely chopped parsley and /or chives
Serve soon - the lettuce will go limp after an hour or so, depending in the kind of lettuce.
Rums Balls
Method:
Break Fruit Cake Beginning to Go Dry into biggish crumbs. Drizzle of rum or whisky - the amount is up to you - or leave out the alcohol.
Melt half a cup white, milk or dark chocolate for every cup of cake crumbs. Mix well and roll into balls.
Leave to set.
Now melt more chocolate - the same kind or choose another for contrast - add a tsp of butter for every cup of chocolate to make it glossy and roll the balls in it. They can be left as they are or rolled in coconut. (I’m the only one in our family who likes coconut).
Leftover Prawns
Throw them out - prawns don’t last long safely. Though it does remind me of a trick some friends pulled on an unpleasant landlord - she really was a nightmare, refusing to fix the broken hot water system and the toilet that wouldn’t flush without a bucket of water, as well as arriving unannounced for inspections at 7 a.m. Sunday mornings. Before leaving they filled the metal curtain rods with prawns, as well as unscrewing the old-fashioned telephone receiver and adding prawns there too. Though sadly I suspect it was the next tenants who suffered, not the landlady.
Our ‘Every Day Standby Choc Chip Biscuits’
These have been available almost every day of our 38-year marriage. Sometimes they’ve had peanuts too, and for a while some dried fruit or added white chocolate buttons.
Ingredients:
125 gm butter
1 egg
4 tb vanilla essence
1.75 cups plain flour
3 cups dark choc chips
Method:
Cream butter and sugar well. Mix in the egg till creamy then add the other ingredients.
Bake small rounds pressed down with a fork for about 10 minutes at C200 or till pale brown. Leave to cool till crisp on the trays before packing into a sealed contained. They last up to a fortnight but are best within three days. The uncooked mixture can be kept overnight in the fridge but bring to room temperature before baking. It can also be frozen for up to a month.
Leave to set.
Not a Christmas Cake
I make this for people who don’t like dried fruit. It’s not exactly healthy - it does have sugar - but it does have extra virgin olive oil, which I try to consume every day, and doesn’t have preservatives.
It is also so delicious I ate an entire cake by myself over two weeks. Be warned.
Ingredients:
2.5 cups Self Raising Flour
Half a cup olive oil
2 tb bitter almond essence or paste
1 cup castor sugar
2 eggs
2 cups chopped nuts, your choice
2 cups red and green crystalised cherries, finely chopped - use a food processor, if possible, as the texture depends on them being so fine they are almost blob like.
Method:
Beat the eggs till frothy. Add the olive oil, then GENTLY fold in the other ingredients.
The mix will be sticky. Form it into a low log and bake at C200 for 15 minutes.
Cool. Cut into thick slices - not thin like biscotti.
Bake the slices till one side is brown, then turn over and bake till the second side is brown. Cut the slices in half or smaller. Cool then place in an air proof container.
They will be crispish for a day or two, though not as crisp as biscotti - they are meant to be cake like. They get softer after that, and will last for at least three weeks in an airtight container. They might last for longer, but we’ve never had them uneaten long enough to test.
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