Last week, at the McConnell Library in Sydney, A. J. B. Johnston gathered with readers to share his thoughts on reading and writing fiction. Johnston answered readers’ questions about what it was like to write Thomas: A Secret Life, a fictionalized account of the historical figure Thomas Pichon,  after so many years devoted to writing exclusively history. Here are some of the highlights.

“Writing history is like being on the outside; writing fiction is like being on the inside.”

Thomas: A Secret Life has existed for almost for almost a quarter of a century. “I had a manuscript in 1988,” Johnston says, “but it wasn’t very good (at the time).”

A historian at the Fortress of Louisbourg for 23 years, Johnston has been researching the 18th century for a long time. At one point, he even packed up his life and moved to France for three months, taking his wife and kids with him. And so, “this time around,” he says, referring to the more recent rewrite of his novel, “I didn’t review any of the source material.” I guess you wouldn’t have to if you’ve been doing research for that long.

“That’s life in the 18th century. Everybody’s at risk, everybody’s vulnerable.”

 According to Johnston, writing history is like being on the outside;  writing fiction is like being on the inside. When you’re on the inside, moments become elongated. You have to pay attention to things like smells and sounds. Johnston emphasizes his careful choices about atmosphere. Most of the book takes place at night. It’s cold and it’s dark. And that’s all done on purpose: “That’s life in the 18th century,” he explains, “Everybody’s at risk, everybody’s vulnerable. This book is about someone growing up in a very risky period.” His intimate knowledge of the 18th century, the Age of Enlightenment, really allows readers to live and breathe the ideas of the time.  “Ideas are very much up for discussion in this time period.” Thomas is able to detach himself from his background and his family. “I honestly think that’s very common in the 18th century. People were able to cut ties very easily. Death was a common occurrence.”

Johnston used to joke with fellow historians about how easy it must be to write fiction. “You get to make everything up!” And there are no footnotes. Still, “there’s nothing in this book that isn’t true,” he says, in the sense that in 18th-century Paris there really were musicians playing on the Pont Neuf and Voltaire really was walking around and there really is a restaurant/tavern called Le Café Procope.

“I want it to tick like a clock. And I want it to tick like a bomb.”

But writing fiction proved to be more difficult than he originally thought. “I couldn’t tell you how many times I rewrote the first sentence.” It sounds like it didn’t take him long to get the hang of it, though. He sums up how he hopes his novel works: “I want it to tick like a clock. And I want it to tick like a bomb.”

“By the way,” he says, “It’s a job. Three hundred and forty days of the year I write. I try to get at least four pages a day. Sometimes I get six or eight.” And some days he might entirely rewrite those pages.  “I’ve always written. I used to think that it was everyone’s dream to be a writer. Even parts of this guy’s character go back to my grade 12 English class.”

“Even parts of this guy’s character go back to my grade 12 English class.”

 It’s a job, but there’s also inspiration. “I believe 100% in literary muses.” He explains that writing is about being open to hearing the dialogue, the plot, the twists.

One of his favourite things about fiction is that “it calls for other parts of the psyche than just the rational side.” He talks about fiction’s certain gripping quality, a feeling that exists not just for readers but for the writer as well. “I spent more time with these characters than [readers did]. And I’m anxious to see where they’re going, too.” Thomas Pichon’s story doesn’t end with Thomas: A Secret Life; a second, and possibly third and fourth, book may be on the way.