Ed Jaggard
Writing history
Being asked to reflect on the writing of history is unnerving, not least because as someone once wrote of the discipline, “I often think it odd that it should be so dull, for a great deal of it must be imagination”. There, I have nailed my colours to the mast, for I have always believed that such writing is often about filling in the gaps between shards of the recoverable past. I’m sure there are many historians who would disagree, but I have long thought that sometimes when evidence is sparse aspects of historical writing border on the fictional, therefore “facts, facts and more facts” cannot be the whole story. Applying creativity and inference where proof is lacking make history fun, especially political history where motives are often opaque to say the least.
Furthermore, I owe another perhaps controversial belief about writing history to my American PhD supervisor, an eminent historian of great wisdom. When I began the serious business of seeking out journals for my writings he gave some valuable advice: “never believe that you have to read everything before you write anything, for that way you will be outpaced in the publishing race by most of your contemporaries.” Instead the historian should collect only enough material to support and prove his or her argument, after which they should begin writing.
When I first picked up a pen or biro to hopefully join the most eminent historians whose field was modern British political history, I attempted to structure my writing by commencing at the start of the planned piece, then progressing through to the conclusion – a linear approach. Discussing this with a good friend (and sharp eyed critic) he demanded that I rethink such a schema, avoiding putting pen to paper until I had conceptualized the structure of the article, or book. He rightly pointed out that academic writing consists of a series of building blocks (sections) that eventually combine in a coherent structure. Therefore, once these had been established the writing could proceed, but not necessarily section by section in progression. Then when written, the blocks could be assembled in the order determined in the original conceptualization.
For me, often the hardest part of writing is the hours spent trying to conceptualise what I wish to say. But it is time well spent!
As for the actual process of historical writing, by its nature the prior research is so time consuming that there are long periods between “being creative”. Like many activities, constant application to the writing task always brings an improvement. As my previously mentioned critic often said (he was a sportsman as well as an academic), “You have to write yourself into form”, and that often means many starts and restarts before the writing reaches an acceptable (to others) standard.
By now it is self evident that I believe every writer in whatever discipline or field, needs a critic, someone who is happy to read drafts and comment on them constructively, but at the same time someone who can be forensically critical. Such a person need not necessarily be familiar with the writer’s field, for then they may ask questions of the writing that others may not see.
Finally, instead of going over the probably familiar ground of stressing that an article, for example, should commence with an attention getting, even controversial opening paragraph, perhaps I can refer to “eagerness to engage”, and “enthusiasm”. By this I mean that the best writing should convey a joie de vivre, an obvious intention to make an important contribution to the field. After all, if something is worth saying then why not say it boldly?