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

Intriguing Observations: Your Book’s Palette – Using Color in Your Fiction

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 Samantha Hunter.

Learning to sew and decorating a home has taught me a lot about using color. It was inevitable that this would find its way into my writing. When I learned to quilt, I had to learn a lot about color combinations, tones and patterns. In painting (and repainting) the rooms in our house I’ve learned a lot about using color as well. For instance, how to use color with certain kinds of light, how colors will make a room seem larger or smaller, welcoming or not, and how to create a flow of color from one room to the next. In sewing, you can make a subtle color pop in a quilt by placing it next to something that contrasts, and the difference between striking and gaudy is usually the placement of colors next to each other.

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As we all know, color affects mood – green and blue are soothing, orange can stimulate appetite, and yellow can inspire happiness. Brown is earthy, white is cold. Color also has historic can cultural meaning – the main rooms in my home are painted to reflect earthy, Craftsman color palettes popular in the early 1900s. Or, if you like red, you know in the US red usually suggests “danger” while in China it’s the color of wedding dresses for good luck! (White, in China, symbolizes death).

Some colors work together and  some do not. It’s best whenever you are using color to use tones and shades that complement and work together somehow. Here are some good links to read up on using color:

http://www.hgtv.com/decorating/how-to-choose-a-color-scheme/index.html

http://www.smashingmagazine.com/2010/02/08/color-theory-for-designer-part-3-creating-your-own-color-palettes/

You can do a lot with color and get as deeply into it as you would like in your book, but a consistent or interesting color scheme for your book can enhance your story, as well as tell us something about the characters, scenes and moods, which in turn affect the reader’s emotions and responses.

Does your heroine wear a red coat or a blue one? Why? What does this all say about her? If you describe them as living in an old farmhouse, or a log cabin, or an adobe ranch, you want to have a color palette that’s amenable to those living spaces as well as addressing your character’s choices. If you are decorating your character’s apartment, and she is a historian, what period of history does she favor and how would that be reflected in her dress or room colors? Or, if she really has a hidden desire or hates her job as a historian, maybe it shows up in the colors she chooses for her personal space in contrast to her office.

One of my favorite things to do with color is to use it to show how the characters and the story are also changing. For instance, in one of my earlier books, Fascination, my heroine wears only black and white at the start of the story – this reflects the issues at that point in the book, being trapped in extremes. But by the end, she is wearing multi-colored, flowered dresses – her world has opened up; she’s free. Even this simple use of color can have a subtle effect on the reader and how readers perceive the story.

Another example might be in the weather, the colors in the environment that you show through the protagonist’s POV and how that changes depending on their situation or mood. Or, how it can change in  the moment when someone caged by beige walls suddenly sees them as the frame for a beautiful view of the blue sky out the window – this could represent a life-changing moment for a character, a change in their perception of their world.

You can go back through scenes and consider how color makes a difference – or how it could make a difference. How does the gold wall look in different lighting, and how does that convey a certain mood? Consider everything from the color of the walls and clothing for your characters to the color of their car, etc. You can send messages to the reader through this use of conscious color choice, and make your story deeper in a very easy, fun way.

Sam Hunter lives in Syracuse New York with her husband and several pets. Since January 2004 when she sold her first book to Harlequin Blaze, Virtually Perfect, she has gone on to publish several more with new releases on the way. Sam holds two Master's degrees and was a university instructor for many years before quitting to live the writing life, is a confirmed TV addict and enjoys gardening, sewing, and travel.

Website: www.samanthahunter.com
Twitter: Follow @SamanthaHunter

Current books: Harlequin Blaze, Straight to the Heart; Indie Mystery: Once Burned, Book Two in the Sophie Turner Mystery series.

Carnival of Thrills

Every composition is its own thriller, a unique and compelling ride that provides the necessary suspense, excitement and satisfaction to compel the audience to the conclusion.

Many authors equate a strong narrative to a roller-coaster, a thrill ride with countless ups and downs, sharp twists in the track and blind drops that keep the participants on the edge of their seats. To a degree this is a strong analogy for the perfectly balanced narrative.

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When participants choose a roller-coaster they have a certain set of preconceived notions about the experience and the expectations of what will be experienced. Presentation is at the foremost, the coaster typically has a theme be it horror, adventure or even action heroes. This establishes the tone for the ride and gives participants a set of emotions to expect. This then leads to the actual ride, the anticipation of the excitement, the suspense as the the coaster climbs each rise in the track, the fear as the drops are perceived, the excitement of the pacing and ultimate satisfaction from the whole experience.

Any narrative composition, even life, can be easily compared to a thrill ride like a roller-coaster but while this is sufficient in most cases it's not entirely accurate.

The reality of a carnival ride like a roller-coaster is that the participant is aware of what's in store for them. The track is easily visible, like a reader selecting a specific genre but in all instances, the strongest compositions emulate life. This is where the carnival ride diverges greatly from the single track roller-coaster ride.

Where a narrative does follow a path it is not a singular track bound for conclusion. A narrative, as life, is predicated on following choice and consequence. A singular choice may cause the track to drop from under your feet or climb to great heights. When characters in a narrative are subject to their own choices and the consequences of those choices, the audience can better relate than if it was an on-rails ride.

The individuals in a narrative are not merely characters designed to support the main attraction like props on a roller-coaster ride to add atmosphere. Ever individual is a product of their choices and the more that these connections are explored, the more the audience becomes invested in the composition. A strong narrative, like life, is not a restrictive roller-coaster but a full carnival of thrills. Every path is hidden,every ride, adventure and event concealed until the appropriate choices are made.


“Writing is not life, but I think that sometimes it can be a way back to life.” 

― Stephen King, On Writing

Abstracting Layers

Depth, Dimension, Layers…

As a narrative piece is composed, one of the difficulties of framing a specific point as the subject of the narrative is establishing the sense of depth in the composition.

Often a visual composition will rely on layering to add a sense of depth and even time to the piece. A narrative composition can quite frequently utilize similar techniques to bring that composition into greater focus, bring it to life.

Adding depth to a narrative is achieved through layering interaction dynamics and narrative history.

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Interaction dynamics are the implied and explored relationships within the narrative. These can be the relationships between subjects or between subjects and setting. Implied relationships are not overt reactions between subjects but the secondary inferred relationships. In a visual sense the subjects would be juxtaposed to demonstrate hidden emotions or draw tension. These are quite common in romantic narratives as two subjects awkwardly avoid interactions.

The explored relationships are overt dynamics, emotions and interactions are direct. Visually there are direct correlations between subjects or subjects and setting. These can be further layered with different levels of emotions, interactions and relationships. All of these are typically the make new friends, adversaries and love interests subject interactions.

The interaction dynamics of both implied and explored relationships add layers to the composition, provide a sense of depth to the interactions.

A visual composition can frequently capture a still moment in time, but it can also appear flat and superficial. While in a narrative it is possible to convey a linear progression of time, like a visual composition it can also appear flat and superficial.

Through narrative history it is possible to layer a composition with additional depth and dimension. The composition demonstrates a history for the subjects through details of worn settings, memories of previous events and relationships built on events not within the composition.

As any visual composition becomes more interesting with layers of interaction dynamics and narrative history so to does a narrative composition. The flat one-dimensional take on a narrative timeline or strictly overt interactions leaves a flat, superficial image. Adding layers of interactions, history and detail together brings the piece to life.

Diagnosing Realism

Every story is created in a manner that the author is comfortable with presenting to their audience. It is wholly their creation and their perspective on a world of their own devising.

Their own creations may represent their unique perspective but every narrative that has ever been presented to the world has been subject to both editors and publishing guidelines. A filter is applied to their work so that it can be presented to their audience.

One short-hand method for authors to add tone or apply a 'gritty-realism' to their work is to utilize elements of everyday life from gut-wrenching violence to sex scenes so detailed an artist could count the freckles to extensive use swearing that could put a sailor to shame. These elements bring the audience into a 'real world' and pull them in with their spell.

Or do they?

In many instances authors may use these elements as a means to apply realism to the world but are they really necessary? The power of writing is that it lets the audience take control with their imagination. The audience is what truly brings the piece to life. If too many of these elements are laced within the narrative what does it accomplish? Interestingly enough, not what one would think.

As these elements of 'gritty realism' are laced throughout the piece it may assist in world building but as the levels of these elements increase the author is actually decreasing their potential audience. In most instances of 'harsh language' it is actually superfluous. Much like adding extensive dialect to a piece, adding language is the same as repeating a detail. Not only can the audience already understand the details they may actually grow tired of it. This is why editors and publishers may filter these elements. They want a piece to reach as wide an audience as possible.

Adding 'gritty realism' to a piece can work really well but the levels of these elements will actually dictate the potential audience. Is it really wise to keep reducing the size of that audience?