Intriguing Observations: Maximizing Research

The Intriguing Observations series was created to gather some of the greatest supporters and bloggers to provide their own insight on all things creative both in their ventures and their techniques. This week on the guest series is another all-star supporter and an outstanding wordsmith K.M. Weiland.

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Research is vital no matter what kind of fiction you write. I spent almost as much time researching modern-day Chicago for my fantasy novel Dreamers Come as I did the Third Crusade for my historical novel Behold the Dawn (scheduled for release October 1). I’ve always found it odd that some authors approach research as if it were the bane of their craft. Since most of us write fiction in an urge to learn and grow, research is a natural extension of that. On average, I spend three months researching any given novel before diving into the writing. And I love it. I love discovering the solid facts—the bricks—that will turn the imagined walls of my story into something solid. That said, I’m very much aware that research can be both overwhelming and frustrating. Following are some of the tricks I’ve adopted for my own use.

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1. Know the Questions. Usually, I decide to set a story during a particular period or place because I already possess some interest in and at least a basic knowledge about it. Using that foundational knowledge, I’m able to complete my sketches and story outlines. By the time I officially begin my research, my story is already almost fully formed in my head, and I have a very good idea of what questions I need to answer during my research phase. For instance, in Behold, I knew I needed to spend a lot time learning about not only the Crusade itself, but also the world of the tourneys—the huge mock battles that were loved by the knights and banned by the church.


2. Find the Resources. The first thing I do is run several searches through my libraries’ online card catalogs. My goal is to pick up every book my libraries have available on my subject, so I try to be as thorough in my keywords as possible. After evaluating whatever I’ve come up with, I’ll complete my research library with the necessary purchases. If I have any blanks remaining once I’ve finished my books, I’ll utilize the Internet—although it should go without saying that you have to be careful about the reliability of Internet sources. (Check out my links page for some great research resources.)


3. File the Gems. Research notes aren’t worth much in the long run if they aren’t easily accessible, so I’ve constructed a system of note keeping that, although a bit time-intensive in the beginning, pays huge dividends over the course of the novel. Whenever I run into a snippet of information that I think might prove useful to my story, I either highlight it (if I own the book) or pull out a notebook and mark down the page and paragraph numbers and the first and last three words of the information I want. For example, if I want to remember something on a book’s thirty-first page and second paragraph, my shorthand note looks like this: 31:2 “First three words… last three words.”

The next day, before settling in for more reading, I take my books to the computer and use my notebook to find the passages I marked the day before. I type them up in a Word document, which I divide into appropriate headings. For Behold, I used headings such as “Animals,” “Children,” “Home Life,” “Tournaments,” “Warfare,” etc.

This may initially look like a lot of extra work, but it’s not. When I’m in the middle of a scene and I need to know what kind of food an earl would serve at a banquet, my elaborate note system keeps me from having to dig through piles of dog-eared books in search of a minute detail. Instead, I can either look through my research document’s headers in search of “Food & Dining,” or I can simply hit the Find button and run a search for “banquet.” Either way, it takes seconds to find the information and continue writing my scene.

4. Add the Visuals. Something else I find extremely helpful is a folder of images. Maps and landscape pictures are particularly valuable when I’m writing about a place (such as Syria—or Chicago) with which I am totally unfamiliar. But it’s also nice to have pictures of period clothing, diagrams of weapons and machinery, and maybe even a collection of people pictures for character inspiration.

5. Take the Responsibility. Very probably the single most important facet of portraying authenticity is chutzpah. If you act like you know what you’re talking about, most readers will buy it, whether it’s true or not. But hand in hand with that understanding goes a realization of the responsibility we have for giving our readers truth in exchange for their trust. None of us are ever going to get the facts one hundred percent correct, but checking and double-checking our sources is important lest we convey an incorrect fact or impression. The line between learning as many facts as possible and using our imaginations to fill in the blanks is a delicate one. If, for whatever reason, I ever intentionally depart from the facts (as I did once or twice in Behold, in regard to dates and such), I always make note of it in an afterword.

As writers, our fertile imaginations are what allow us to create something out of nothing. But it’s as researchers, that we’re able to make that something into a solid delivery of facts that will keep readers from blinking twice at suspending their disbelief.

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K.M. Weiland is the author of the historical western A Man Called Outlaw and the medieval epic Behold the Dawn. She enjoys mentoring other authors through her writing tips, her book Outlining Your Novel: Map Your Way to Success, and her instructional CD Conquering Writer’s Block and Summoning Inspiration.

Site: K.M. Weiland

Blog: WordPlay

Twitter: KMWeiland 

Intriguing Observations: Writing is an Illusion

The Intriguing Observations series was created to gather some of the greatest supporters and bloggers to provide their own insight on all things creative both in their ventures and their techniques. This week on the guest series is another all-star supporter, fellow AP author and an outstanding wordsmith Meg Mims.

Writing is never easy, no matter what the genre. It’s an art—and crafting scenes to draw the reader in from the first line and keep them hooked until the last page takes hard work. One writer’s “trick” is relying on specifics. Word choice, in other words.

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Take “dog.” What kind of dog? A white dog. What size is it and what does it sound like? A yappy white poodle. Adding color, sound, even texture makes that vague word come alive. I used to teach elementary kids about using specifics when writing. Writers finagle words in fresh ways. “Digging up a cloud of dust, the dirty white poodle’s shrill yaps echoed in my brain.”

Shallow writing skips the surface of the author’s “world” and presents characters acting out scenes on an empty stage. I’m not advocating the use of info dumps. But the best writers will spin out a story on a slow line, fishing for depth. Oral storytellers do the same, using pauses and extra information to keep the listener’s interest. Take Harper Lee’s Pulitzer prize-winning novel, To Kill A Mockingbird. Being literary, she took free rein to build her world. And what a world it is, enough to shower a reader in specifics and place them smack dab in its midst.

“Maycomb was an old town, but it was a tired old town before I knew it. In rainy weather the streets turned to red slop; grass grew on the sidewalks, the courthouse sagged in the Square. Somehow, it was hotter then:   black dog suffered on a hot summer’s day; bony mules hitched to Hoover carts flicked flies in the sweltering shade of the live oaks on the square. Men’s stiff collars wilted by nine in the morning. Ladies bathed before noon, after their three o’clock naps, and by nightfall were like soft teacakes with frostings of sweat and sweet talcum.”

Readers (even ones who don’t like historical novels) enjoy specifics of a “story world” right along with the characters. My own trick is infusing several of the five senses within a character’s Point of View. You have to balance a razor’s edge between too subtle and overload. In Double Crossing, I used first person POV—primarily because I wanted that immediate close bonding between the heroine Lily Granville and the reader.

Writers tend to visualize their story world. Go beyond the “eyes” of a character, though, to hear, smell, feel and even taste within the scene’s action. In the following excerpt, I tried to use two or three senses at various times as Lily walks along a street in Nebraska, 1869:

I clamped a handkerchief over my mouth but Omaha’s black dirt still choked me. My hard sneeze left a ringing in my ears. There had to be a general store somewhere with needles and thread. Stray sparks from the Chicago and Western’s smokestack had burned tiny holes in my split skirt and jacket, and I was desperate to repair them both.

At last I found a shop. A bell jangled above my head when I entered. The bulky proprietor laughed and joked with several customers while he filled orders at the polished walnut counter. I meandered down each crowded aisle. Scents of dill, chives and cinnamon tickled my nose. Potatoes with earthy skins and papery onions filled open barrels. Small jars of pickled beets and corn relish, tins of fruit and baked beans lined the shelves. Huge burlap sacks of flour, sugar, salt, coffee and beans lay near the door, and wheels of cheese had been stacked above crates of smoked fish and salt pork.

Seeing the flatirons, hoes, plows and other tools all around brought a sense of normalcy back to my life. I realized I’d been wandering in a haze since Father’s funeral.

I could have had Lily touching the earthy skins of potatoes, but that would have dirtied her gloves! So keep in mind your character’s personality when writing. Vivid details come from specific adjectives and nouns—silver folding scissors, sturdy butter churns, oilcloth cape, shiny snaps. Readers can quickly identify the items with the visual cues. Dropping a few other sensory cues—bell jangled, scents tickling the nose—helps also. Adding a brief dialogue exchange with minor characters will also balance out the scene.

Your readers will appreciate that the characters are not acting on an empty stage.

Meg Mims is an award-winning author and artist. She writes “blended genre” fiction, and her western historical suspense won the 2012 Western Writers of America Spur Award for Best First Novel. Meg earned an M.A. from Seton Hill University’s Writing Popular Fiction program and is a staff writer for Lake Effect Living, a West Coast of Michigan tourist on-line magazine. Double Crossing is available both in e-book and print.

Website: www.double-crossing.com and www.megmims.com

Twitter: @megmims

Facebook: Meg Mims and Double Crossing

Abstracting the Antithesis

Antithesis, Synthesis, Logic...

In a narrative the writer will often go to extensive lengths to explore and understand the logic of characters. Information may be derived from previous events, details and psychological conditioning of characters but it is often a question of where does the author stop displaying the information openly?

While a writer can be absolutely transparent with their main character's motivations it is ultimately necessary for them to keep information from their audience to construct a sense of emotion. Whether it is love, happiness or even fear, the only means of preventing a narrative from reaching an early conclusion is to withhold information from the main character and the audience.

As a story unfolds, the writer may have all of the motivations penned but to keep the level of tension high they do not reveal these to their audience. When the main character and audience are left with the question of 'Why?' it should not be answered right away and in-truth, in a horror or suspense it probably should not be answered at all.

Stephen King once wrote that nightmares exist outside of logic and there’s little fun to be had in explanations; they’re antithetical to the poetry of fear.

Questions are the driving force in a story. The narrative thrives on the antithesis of knowledge that the primary characters hold regarding the primary question. The characters journey to answer the defining question is the heart of any piece. Every step that the characters take will yield its own questions but the singular driving question should never find its' answer until the story draws to a close.

The driving logic behind characters' actions and their motivations can assist the audience in connecting with the piece but it is the absence of that knowledge, that logic, that can make an emotion resonate through a story. In the end the audience will demand an answer and to a degree it must be given but there is more power to be found in withholding the entirety of that logic. A narrative is not about the logic, the explanations, it is a story about the quest for those explanations.

How much information do you give your characters? Your audience?