The Back in Time Job: Historical Fiction as a Heist of Its Own

Co-authors Lee Kelly and Jennifer Thorne break down how writing historical fiction can be a bit like executing a heist.

The stage is set. You’ve created an intricate, foolproof plan–although only an amateur would expect what follows to go off without a single hitch. You, by contrast, are a mastermind; you’ve built fail-safes into every aspect of your scheme, ready to pivot if needed. You’ve assembled the best team possible to pull it off, each member bringing their own set of skills and experiences to the table. You know your target inside and out. The map of the Louvre’s Gallery of Apollo is open in front of you, along with photos confirming guard stations and the location of key jewels. The only thing left to do now is…

…start typing.

Hang on. Did you think we were referring to something else?

Okay, but here’s the thing: Writing a book is not that dissimilar to planning a heist, especially when that book takes place in the past. Crafting historical fiction requires its writers to invade real life in a way that goes unnoticed by the historical record to unique spectacular effect. Get in, get out, don’t get caught is the name of the game, whether you’re writing the story of an Egyptian scribe, an 18th century schooner captain, or—as in the case of our upcoming novel, My Fair Frauds—two female con artists in Gilded Age New York. You want to reap rewards without making any alarm bells sound. In order to do so, you need to know your setting like the back of your hand.

Much like a criminal mastermind, writers of historical fiction need to answer key logistical questions. On this day, in this year, what is the layout of the setting? Where and when, for example, was the Patriarch’s Ball held during the 1883-1884 social season and how might one secure an invitation? Or in the case of our archaeology adventure, The Antiquity Affair, what would be the most appropriately large artifact to hide behind in the main gallery of the Cairo Museum as it was laid out in 1907? If characters needed to hide from criminals hunting them, such as in our Old Hollywood caper, The Starlets, could they realistically walk from the Monte Carlo harbor to the Palais des Princes? You need to know your story’s city layouts, your modes of transportation, and any obstacles in your characters’ ways. After all, a big job is worth nothing if you don’t land the getaway.

But first, of course…you need a crew, as well as a shared goal driving that crew to act. Now, here’s a key point of difference. Whereas in planning a seamless theft or con job, it is crucial to minimize drama between the key players, the opposite holds true in plotting a novel. The more interpersonal dynamite, the better. Which personalities would be the most ideally placed into this situation, but also personally impacted by being involved in the pursuit of this goal? How might their differing perspectives cause them to chafe against each other, or, conversely, to work spectacularly well together? What ripple effects might the flaws of your chosen players create in the otherwise meticulous plan you’ve masterminded?

Which brings us to the key element of any well-crafted scheme, whether criminal or literary: Be prepared for things to go wildly off script. Sometimes people don’t behave the way you want them to–even when they’re your own characters. The seemingly-solid foundation of logic you’ve built your plans upon can only be tested through the pressure of the moment–the day of the heist, the drafting and evaluating and rewriting of the book. It may seem simple to get a character from point A to point B in your outline, but when you sit down to connect those dots in prose, it becomes clear that it is not so simple in practice. At that point, you must be prepared to toss it all out and pivot. Stubborn adherence to the past plan can only lead to disaster in the bald light of the present reality. Also worth noting: Sometimes hiccups in the plan make for the most delightful plot twists.

If this all sounds rather stress-inducing and fraught–well, of course it is! If anyone told you writing a book would be easy, they were selling you a con worthy of the lying ladies of My Fair Frauds. But much like in a heist, those long writing days and nights of sweating the details, managing difficult characters, and poring over myriad plot complications all become worthwhile when the goal is achieved. The big win, the finished novel, that glorious The End, provides a particular kind of satisfaction that is worth its weight in gold.

Wow, you’ll say to yourself at the end. I can’t believe we pulled this off.

Check out Lee Kelly and Jennifer Thorne's My Fair Frauds here:

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(Disclaimer: The above article is no way an endorsement of nor an indication of criminal activity on the part of either author. Grand larceny and fraud are crimes and very obviously wrong. We suggest you chase the thrill of becoming a mastermind by writing a novel instead.)

Jennifer Thorne is an American author of books for adults and young readers who writes from a nineteenth-century Cotswold cottage in the medieval market town of Minchinhampton alongside her husband, two sons, and various other animals. Born in a small town in Tennessee, Jenn grew up bouncing between her parents’ homes in various other states and countries, with books as her constant companions, before returning to New York as a teen to study drama at NYU. Though acting had been her lifelong dream, she found that she was more fulfilled by writing performance vehicles for her friends than acting in them herself. After a move to Los Angeles, she detoured into writing and never looked back. Connect with her online at jenniferthorne.com; Facebook: @JennMarieThorne; Instagram: @jennmariethorne.