When one writes both history and fiction, it’s sometimes a bit of a chore to remind yourself which genre you’re working in, so as not to make embarrassing mistakes. For example, in fiction, one can generally have license to go inside a person’s mind, imagine their motivations and personal thoughts, and use that to further the plot.
Can’t do that with true crime or history writing, at least not without a ton of personal interviews to make sure you’re at least in the ballpark of truth and historical accuracy. That’s because you’re writing about real people, and even if they aren’t alive, relatives or descendants might be, who would take offense if your fiction-esque reverie were somehow off-base. The pressure of history and relatives can make a room so uncomfortable, you’d need Santa Fe dehumidifiers just to breathe easy again.
So far, I’ve done well avoiding the pitfalls; it’s just important to never forget they’re there.
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