I want to talk about how powerful understanding history can be, especially for us as writers. It’s not just about spinning a good yarn; it’s about really getting the human experience, the big forces that shape what happens, and that subtle dance of cause and effect. Historians, at their core, are absolute pros at navigating this incredibly complex world. They don’t just tell you what happened; they dig into it, trying to figure out why things unfolded the way they did and what the fallout was. This isn’t some boring, academic thing; it’s a genuine cognitive superpower. And here’s the cool part: you, as a writer, can totally use it to give your work—whether it’s fiction or non-fiction—amazing depth, real authority, and believable resonance.
Think about it. Have you ever written a character whose motivations just felt… thin? Or a plot that seemed to jump around without a real sense of progression? Often, that happens because we have a bit of a surface-level understanding of how human actions come from context, how decisions ripple through time, and how even seemingly isolated events are actually just threads in a much bigger tapestry. When I say “think like a historian,” I mean developing a specific set of tools for your brain – a framework for analyzing information, spotting patterns, and building compelling stories that are backed up by evidence. I’m going to break down that framework for you, giving you actionable ways to seriously level up your storytelling.
The Foundation: It’s More Than Just Dates and Names
A lot of people mistakenly believe that history is just about memorizing facts. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. A date, a name, an event – those are just tiny bits of data. A historian’s mind sees them as clues, like pieces of a puzzle that, when you put them together carefully, reveal a much deeper story. And let me tell you, this fundamental shift in perspective is absolutely crucial.
Deconstructing the “Fact”: Context is Everything
A fact, all by itself, is pretty meaningless. When you’re thinking like a historian, your first question is always: When? Where? Who? What else was happening? Every single piece of information exists within a specific historical moment. It’s shaped by the social norms of the time, the economic situation, how power was structured, and what technology was available.
Here’s a tip you can use right away: When you’re researching for your novel, article, or screenplay, don’t just grab information. For every piece of data, I want you to mentally (or even physically, in your notes) attach its context.
Let me give you an example:
* A surface-level fact might be: “Women couldn’t vote until the 1920s.”
* But if you’re thinking like a historian, you’d contextualize that like this: “Women couldn’t vote until the 1920s in the United States, and that was the culmination of decades of suffragist movements after the Civil War. Other social reforms were also gaining steam then, and it was a time of really fast industrialization and changing gender roles. Women were increasingly entering the workforce and challenging traditional spheres. This specific change wasn’t isolated; it happened alongside similar movements worldwide and followed earlier instances of partial suffrage in certain states and territories.”
See how immediately layering on that context transforms a simple statement into a rich starting point? You can explore themes, character motivations, and societal pressures. For your writing, it means truly understanding why your characters behave a certain way, or why certain events unfold, rather than just saying they did.
The Cognitive Tools: Taking Apart the Past
Once you really get how important context is, you start using specific mental tools to interrogate the information you come across. These tools are like constant mental checks, designed to help you peel away superficial understanding and cultivate some seriously profound insight.
Tool 1: Source Criticism – You’ve Got to Be a Skeptic
Not all information is created equal. A historian’s first reaction is always skepticism. Who created this source? Why did they create it? Who was it for? What was their agenda? What were their biases? What limitations did they have? This isn’t about being cynical; it’s about intellectual rigor.
Let’s look at the types of sources:
* Primary Sources: These are first-hand accounts or artifacts from the actual time period you’re studying. Think letters, diaries, government documents, photographs, speeches, tools, clothing, census data.
* Secondary Sources: These are interpretations or analyses of primary sources, created after the event. Things like history books, biographies, academic articles.
Here’s how you can use this: When you encounter any piece of information (even in your own research or brainstorming), mentally categorize its “source.” Then, run it through that critical filter.
Here’s an example:
* Scenario: Let’s say you’re writing a historical fantasy and you find a quote that’s supposedly from a medieval peasant talking about their daily life.
* A historian’s critique would go like this: “Is this a primary source? Highly unlikely. Peasants rarely wrote anything down. If it’s a quote about a peasant, who recorded it? Was it a monk? A noble? What was their perspective? Were they romanticizing, judging, or just documenting? Is it from a secondary source? Is that secondary source actually citing a primary source? If so, which one? How reliable is that primary source? Was it translated? How reliable is the translation? And what did the historian who interpreted it bring to the table?”
This immediate mental interrogation stops you from building your narrative on shaky ground. For fiction, it helps you create characters whose perspectives are truly limited or biased by their time. For non-fiction, it makes sure your arguments are strong and defensible.
Tool 2: Causation – Really Digging into “Why?”
Events don’t just randomly happen. They’re the result of forces that came before them. Historians don’t just point out effects; they carefully trace the chains of cause and effect, often finding multiple, interconnected causes instead of just one simple one. This is often the hardest, but also the most rewarding, part of thinking historically.
Let’s break down types of causes:
* Immediate Causes: The direct trigger for an event.
* Proximate Causes: Factors close in time and space that contribute to the immediate cause.
* Underlying/Long-Term Causes: Deep-seated, broader trends or conditions that create the environment for an event.
Here’s a really useful strategy: For every significant event or character decision in your narrative, go past the obvious explanation. Ask “Why did that happen?” five times, drilling down into deeper and deeper layers of causation.
Let’s try an example:
* Narrative Event: “The protagonist decides to leave their village.”
* A historian’s causation breakdown would look something like this:
1. Immediate Cause: “Their house was burned.” (Direct trigger)
2. Proximate Cause: “The fire was set by rival clan members who felt encroached upon.” (Factors close in time, involving specific actors)
3. Underlying Cause 1: “The rival clans have been in a long-standing land dispute that’s been made worse by dwindling resources.” (Broad, long-term environmental/economic condition)
4. Underlying Cause 2: “The local lord, weakened by illness, hasn’t been able to mediate effectively for years, letting tensions build up.” (Long-term political/power vacuum)
5. Underlying Cause 3: “A recent famine has made the land even more precious, pushing desperate people to extreme measures.” (Broader socio-economic climate)
Applying this to your writing means your characters’ actions aren’t random; they are the logical, even if sometimes tragic, outcome of a complex web of pressures. Your plot points aren’t just things that happen; they’re the inevitable result of carefully laid groundwork. This creates a sense of believable inevitability, even in fantasy settings.
Tool 3: Contingency vs. Determinism – The Roads Not Taken
Historians really wrestle with the question of how inevitable past events truly were. Were outcomes set in stone by powerful forces, or could different choices have led to completely different results? This idea of contingency – the belief that events could have unfolded differently – is crucial. It reminds us that human agency matters, that even small decisions can have huge ripple effects.
Here’s how you can use this: When you’re crafting your plot or character arcs, consider the “what ifs.” What specific choices or circumstances could have changed the path? This isn’t about writing alternative history (though that can be fun), but about understanding the precise moments where individual choices and external forces come together.
Think about this example:
* Narrative Event: “The hero fails to stop the villain.”
* A historian’s contingency analysis would ask: “Was this failure inevitable? What specific points could have altered the outcome? What if the hero had arrived five minutes earlier? What if the supporting character had made a different choice? What if a key piece of information had been shared differently? This isn’t about changing the outcome for your story, but understanding why that outcome was indeed the one that occurred, given that particular chain of events and choices.”
This lens reveals the true dramatic weight of choices and how precarious critical moments can be. It lets you build tension by showing how easily success could have slipped away, and that makes your triumphs feel more earned and your tragedies more poignant.
Tool 4: Change Over Time & Continuity – The Shifting Landscape
Societies, cultures, and individuals aren’t frozen in time. Historians are really good at observing patterns of change – how things evolve, transform, or decline – and also continuity – what elements stay the same, remain stable, or keep showing up across generations. Understanding this dynamic interplay is absolutely fundamental to depicting realistic worlds and characters.
Here’s an exercise for your writing: For any setting or character you create, ask yourself: What has changed recently? What has stayed the same for generations? How do your characters react to these changes or continuities?
Let me show you with an example:
* Fictional Setting: A bustling futuristic city.
* A historian’s Change & Continuity Analysis would consider:
* Change: “While technology has advanced exponentially (flying cars, instant communication), how has that reshaped social structures? What new jobs exist? What old ones are obsolete? How has the environment been altered?”
* Continuity: “Despite the technological leaps, what fundamental human needs or desires persist? Do people still crave connection, status, security? Are there still class divisions, even if they’re based on new metrics? Do old prejudices linger in new forms? Do ancient rituals find new expressions?”
This dual focus allows you to create worlds that feel alive and evolving, not just static. Characters aren’t just products of their moment; they carry the weight of the past and the uncertainty of the future. This adds immense depth to historical fiction, but it also grounds even the most fantastical and futuristic narratives in genuine human reality.
Tool 5: Multiple Perspectives – There’s No Single “Truth”
History isn’t just one big, singular story. It’s a messy tapestry woven from countless individual experiences, biases, and interpretations. Historians actively look for diverse perspectives – not just what the “winners” said, but also the voices of the marginalized, the defeated, the forgotten. This doesn’t mean there’s no truth; it means “truth” is often multi-faceted and debated.
Here’s a great tip for character and plot development: When you’re developing characters or depicting events, ask yourself: Whose story is being told? Whose story is not being told? How would this event look from the perspective of an antagonist? A neutral observer? A child? A social outcast?
Consider this example:
* Narrative Event: “The King decrees a new tax.”
* A historian’s Multiple Perspectives Analysis would explore:
* The King’s Perspective: “Necessary for defense against invaders, a shrewd political move to consolidate power.”
* A Noble’s Perspective: “An unfair burden, an opportunity to curry favor, a chance to challenge the King.”
* A Merchant’s Perspective: “A nuisance that impacts trade, an opportunity for smuggling, a reason to bribe local officials.”
* A Peasant’s Perspective: “A crushing burden, starvation, a reason for revolt.”
* A Neighboring Country’s Perspective: “A sign of weakness, an opportune moment for invasion, an internal struggle to exploit.”
Bringing these different viewpoints into your writing adds so much richness and realism. It moves your narrative beyond simple good-vs-evil scenarios and allows for nuanced, morally complex characters and situations. It also helps you understand why different groups might interpret the same event in wildly different ways, leading to real-world (or story-world) conflict.
The Synthesis: Building a Coherent Narrative
Once you’ve dissected information with these tools, the historian’s final job is to put it all back together into a coherent, compelling narrative. This is where your writer’s craft truly shines, but now it’s informed by a deep historical understanding.
Synthesis 1: Argumentation & Interpretation – More Than Just Recounting
Historians don’t just present facts; they argue for a particular interpretation of those facts. They piece together evidence, find patterns, and build a thesis that explains why events unfolded as they did. This act of interpretation is what transforms raw data into meaningful history.
Here’s a question for your own work: What is the central argument or theme of your story? How do the individual events and character actions support and develop this central idea?
Let me give you an example:
* A superficial narrative might be: “The hero fought the monster and won.”
* But a historian’s interpretation-driven narrative would say: “The hero’s victory over the monster wasn’t just a triumph of strength, but a symbolic rejection of antiquated laws that favored brute force over strategic thinking. It signaled a seismic shift in the kingdom’s values towards intellect and cunning, an argument supported by the subsequent reforms of the Royal Council and the establishment of new magical academies.”
This level of thinking ensures that your narrative isn’t just a sequence of events, but a vehicle for a deeper message or exploration. Every scene, every line of dialogue, every character choice, serves a larger purpose in advancing your overarching argument or theme.
Synthesis 2: Narrative Flow & Pacing – The Story of Time
Historians are master storytellers; they’re skilled at weaving disconnected elements into a flowing narrative. They understand pacing – when to really dive deep into a moment, and when to sweep across decades. They recognize the rhythm of change and continuity, and how to build tension towards significant events.
Think about your narrative’s time arc: Are you highlighting rapid change or slow evolution? How does your pacing reflect the importance of different “historical” moments within your story?
Here’s an example:
* A flat narrative might sound like: “Years passed. Things happened. Then the climax.”
* But a historian’s pacing would be more like: “The narrative opens with a meticulous account of the oppressive spring, building tension through small, seemingly insignificant incidents that, in retrospect, were crucial indicators of the brewing revolt. Then, the summer of uprisings is depicted with rapid, brutal efficiency, reflecting the chaos and speed of events. The denouement stretches over years, showing the slow, arduous process of rebuilding, emphasizing the lasting impact and long tail of revolution.”
This conscious control of narrative time allows you to manipulate your readers’ perceptions, highlight critical turning points, and really emphasize the long-term consequences of actions. Your plot becomes a historical journey, not just a series of disconnected incidents.
Synthesis 3: Empathy and Imagination – Stepping into the Past (or Future)
While historical thinking is firmly grounded in evidence, it also demands a profound act of imagination and empathy. You have to try and understand the world as people then understood it, to walk a mile in their shoes without imposing your modern sensibilities (anachronisms). This doesn’t mean condoning past atrocities, but understanding their context.
Here’s a key point for character writing: When you’re writing a character from a different time or culture, actively suspend your modern judgments. Research their societal norms, their beliefs, their fears, and their aspirations. How would they genuinely react, given their worldview, not yours?
Let’s consider an example:
* Anachronistic Character Action: A medieval knight expressing frustration at women’s lack of voting rights. (That’s applying modern values without understanding the historical context).
* A historian’s empathetic character action would be: A medieval knight, even though he’s chivalrous by his culture’s standards, might feel intense emotional conflict over a pragmatic but brutal decision. This would reflect the harsh realities and moral codes of his time, which are different from contemporary views of morality. He wouldn’t frame it in terms of “rights” as we understand them, but perhaps “honor,” “duty,” or “divine will.”
This ability to really put yourself into the historical or future context is what makes your characters and settings truly believable. It stops your work from feeling like modern people just dressed up in period costumes and injects it with an authentic human experience.
Beyond the Framework: Developing a Historian’s Mindset
Thinking like a historian isn’t just about following a checklist; it’s a deep, fundamental shift in how you approach information and storytelling. It’s a continuous process of questioning, critiquing, and connecting.
- Embrace Nuance: Things are rarely just black and white. Historians love those shades of grey; they embrace complexity and avoid simple stories.
- Recognize the Limits of Knowledge: A historian understands that primary sources are incomplete, perspectives are biased, and having perfect knowledge of the past is impossible. This humility actually allows for stronger, more defensible interpretations.
- Question Everything (Even Your Own Assumptions): Constantly challenge your own preconceived notions and those easy answers. Real insight often hides beneath layers of conventional wisdom.
- Read Widely and Deeply: Immerse yourself in different periods, cultures, and types of accounts. This builds up your internal database of contexts, causes, and human behaviors.
- Practice Active Listening/Reading: Don’t just passively consume information; interrogate it. Engage with it, debate it, search for its underlying assumptions.
By deliberately cultivating these habits of mind, you’ll start to see the world—and your stories—with a historian’s discerning eye. Your characters will have deeper motivations, your plots will unfold with greater logical consistency and impact, and your narratives will truly resonate with an authentic echo of human experience, whether it’s from the past, present, or future. This whole framework isn’t just about writing history; it’s about writing with historical depth, transforming your craft into an act of true understanding.