When to Research and When to Revise Part II

By Kasie Whitener

Once you’ve nailed down the historical details and familiarized yourself with the conventions of the genre and criticism, it’s time to revise.

I’m a pantser which means I write everything “by-the-seat-of-my-pants.” I simply sit down and create. This is as opposed to planners who outline first and then write. Being a pantser is fun because the characters really can take over, hijack scenes, and turn stories into something completely unintended.

During revision, though, I tame the pantser and take a more organized approach. I’ve written about revision before so this blog focuses on revision within the scope of the research I’ve conducted.

Adding Historical Details

Many writers commit the crime of fact dumping, or pouring all of the historical information into a single passage. The location, political climate, costumes, and manners are all thickly embellished and saturate the story. Fact dumping is boring.

Including historical accuracies takes finesse. My approach is to write the passage as if it were happening today and then provide the historical accuracies only when required.

For example, my time-traveling vampires frequently smoke cigarettes. I explain how they light them using taper candles in 1816. I explain costumes when my narrator sees someone for the first time, or when he struggles with the intricacies of 19^th century dress.

I used Lord Byron’s club foot to show the advancing trust he had in my narrator, Blue: at first Byron hid his limp, then he pronounced it to gain favor, then he showed the deformity completely, without shame, in an intimate moment.

Including Literary Research

The 1816 vacation at Villa Diodati is usually described as having included a storytelling contest. I included the literary research I’d done by having Byron read from Fantasmagoriana, a French translation of German ghost stories. Blue, the primary storyteller, declined to read the text because he does not speak French.

Byron’s sister translates as her brother reads and the intimacy of her whispered translation in Blue’s ear creates sexual tension between the two. Had I not chosen Fantasmagoriana in its French translation, I would have lost the opportunity to bring my lovers together.

Blue is a story teller. The framework for the novel is his recognition of the five types of stories vampires tell: origin, demise, transformation, redemption, and journey. Reading vampire fiction is what revealed four basic types. Blue is a student of literature and  the novel is his (and my) literary criticism of vampire fiction. The journey story is an original addition to the genre.

Understanding where my fiction fits in the spectrum of existing literature and criticism helped me identify a new position for my work. To have an idea of the landscape, I read deep into the genre and criticism. If I hadn’t, I’d have written just-another-vampire book. Snooze.

Revision is where I add depth and breadth to the story my pantser-self generated. Research helps determine the right details to include and the critical approach to take.

When to Research and When to Revise Part I

By Kasie Whitener

Recently, when speaking with a writer who claimed to have penned a modern military novel, I asked, “How did you research the military aspect of the novel?”

Her response: reddit, documentaries, and Call of Duty (a military-style video game).

I’m a little judgey and I think these resources are insufficient. In graduate school, I learned the different levels of research credibility. From original source data to seminal theorists, I think I can spot the right kind of research.

Then again, I’ve also been known to spend a lot of time on Wikipedia because it’s easier to navigate than the tome Byron: Life and Works I got from the library.

So knowing all of the resources available, how does one determine which research is appropriate?

Ask yourself: What do I need to know?

Historical Details

I needed to know if people smoked cigarettes in 1816 and if so, how did they ignite them? When were matches invented?

Tobacco was regional and my vampire smokers are Yanks (a concurrent term) so they can smoke. But I don’t want my work to be discredited over a small error like the existence of matches. So a quick Google search brought up sufficient information on how, when, and why matches were invented. My smokers must use taper candles.

Lord Byron limped due to a club foot and the years of bad medicine associated with attempting to cure that malady humiliated and embittered him. In my novel, he pronounces the limp whenever he’s embarrassed or annoyed. Other times, he hides it ably, indicating years of suppression.

Literary Research

A bigger portion of my research has been about the conventions of the two genres I’m combining. I’m writing about time-traveling vampires. Both time travel and vampires are fantasy genres with their own conventions. I’ve been reading as much genre-pertinent  fiction as I can.

Unfortunately, the scholarship on pop-culture genres can be rather thin. Few literary scholars apply themselves to genre identification. Yet, it’s very interesting to me that most vampire novels spend at least some time on the origin story – how one became a vampire – and the rules – how they feed, how they die.

I consider anything with Byron in it to be an attempt at literary fiction, even if that same work includes vampires. So I’ve spent time researching the criticism on Byron (turns out he made frequent reference to vampires in his poetry) and on Dracula.

I may not have thought of the Byron connection to my vampires if it hadn’t been for the embedded link to The Vampyre in the bit of Byron’s Wikipedia entry that dealt with John Polidori. Polidori’s original story, mistakenly attributed to Byron, is known as the first Western appearance of vampires in fiction. It also happened to be written during the very week my vampires hung out with Byron and Polidori in Switzerland.

And what has all of this research done for me? It helped me get ready to revise. 

Common As Pig Tracks

By Bonnie Stanard

In writing a story about slaves and plantation owners, I have enjoyed rummaging around old words and expressions. I can only wonder why some seemingly serviceable words fall into disuse. Why not say yesternight, nightfall, forenoon, naught and shant? Did these useful words have social problems that put them in decline?

I am learning to be aware of changing connotations. In an excerpt I took to workshop for critique, I wrote of joint grass in the corn field, a common complaint in antebellum diaries. When one of our writers asked if the slaves were digging up marijuana, I realized the word joint had so changed in meaning from 1857 that it couldn’t be used without causing confusion. Take a look at how these words appeared in antebellum times: I don’t truck with his kind; One of his boots flew off and lit on the roof; The woman was sold as a tolerable good cook; He didn’t have the lights to feed the pigs; She couldn’t marry without leave of her father; I have four plugs of gold in my teeth.

Expressions come into fashion and go out. Though you probably wouldn’t use any of these in your everyday conversation, you can figure out what they mean— Don’t set store by him; He was obliged to lay by to recover; and I was too sparing in my praise.

If clichés are dated, does that make them acceptable, if not commendable, in historical fiction? After all, the gist of the era may well be captured by clichés. I haven’t used these in my writing but that’s not to say I won’t: don’t care a scrap; diked out; greased lightning; fit to kill; not worth shucks.

Many plantation owners who left diaries excelled in using urbane language. At the same time, the slave narratives contain some of the most colorful descriptions I’ve ever read. From my notes, I’ve taken miscellaneous quotes from slave narratives (first line and every other one) and plantation owners (second line and every other one) for this nonsensical dialogue which, I hope, illustrates the wealth of imagery in their conversation.

She’s about to drive him crazy and he don’t have far to go.
Him? He can’t manage a turnip patch.
He’s powerful mean when he gets riled.
Her hair is curled so tight she can’t open her mouth.
They wrassle and hug and carry on awful.
She cooks up some terrifying mixture of victuals.
But not enough to feed a cockroach.

As one of my characters might say, I dassen write any more, for I’m nigh on to the master’s word count, and I gainsay go over the limit. For the nonce I’ll bid adieu.

Language of Historical Fiction

By Bonnie Stanard

When Shakespeare, in his play Julius Caesar, had Cassius say “The clock has stricken three,” he committed a faux pas which is so common among historical fiction writers a word has been invented to describe it—anachronism. The clock is the anachronism, for no clocks existed in Caesar’s day.

Recently I read the antebellum novel Jacob’s Ladder by Donald McCaig in which a character orders a sandwich in a tavern. Though the word sandwich dates back to 1762 in England, it doesn’t appear in antebellum diaries and cookbooks I’ve researched. From that misstep by the author, I read the story with an eye of mistrust (which was compounded with his reference to a “rubber tarp,” for rubber wasn’t in common usage at the time).

The writer’s challenge is to avoid not only anachronisms but also a modern English tenor of speech, in other words try to be true to the history and language of the time. An example of a novel that takes place in history but reads like a modern story is Philippa Gregory’s The Other Boleyn Girl. Though you’re supposed to believe you’re in 16th Century England, the modern sound of the language transports you to the 21st Century.

In writing of slaves and their owners in the South in 1857, I have compiled my own lexicon of white and slave idioms which I’ve taken from diaries and slave narratives. I’ve found this useful in writing not only dialogue but the narrative as well.

Charles Frazier in Cold Mountain uses language effectively to put the reader in the antebellum South and to bring the characters alive in their time. If you open this book to any page and read, you will guess from the language that it is a 19th Century story set in the South, even if you know nothing about the book. If only I can capture that sense in my manuscript.

There are 19th century words which hardly anybody has heard of today, some because an entity no longer exists—e.g. calabash (vessel made of gourd shell) or banyun (slip-like dress) or osnaburg (coarse material). Others disappear because usage has changed—e.g. counterpane has become quilt; chilblain became sore; and snood, hairnet.

If I’m in doubt about a word, I look it up in the Merriman-Webster dictionary (CD copy) to check on the date it was introduced into the English language. I have found that some words dated earlier by Merriman-Webster don’t appear in 19th Century diaries, words such as diaper, moonshine, and toddler. The Merriman-Webster dates would be even better if the dictionary provided the original definition, for many contemporary words date back centuries, but mean something entirely different now.

I’ve tried to avoid even questionable words, some of which I really miss. You’d be surprised how difficult it is to talk about meals without using the word left-overs (introduced in 1891). Pregnancy is mentioned by antebellum doctors, but lay persons described the condition in veiled tones such as confinement, lying-in, or a delicate condition. Teenager dates from 1921 and I wish it had come into our language much earlier. And if one of my characters broke his wrist watch, the reader could justifiably mistrust me as a writer of historical fiction.

What Does Your Bookcase Say About You?

By Michelle Gwynn Jones

Yesterday I went online to Amazon.com and did a search on one of my favorite topics, “books - writing - fiction,” to see what if anything was new and interesting. As usual I put several books in my shopping cart so that later I could review them and decide if I want to make the purchase.

With about fourteen books placed in my cart I settled into the task of further evaluation by clicking on “Look Inside” and reading any and all available reviews. When I came to the third book something about it seemed familiar. I thought to myself, “Have I read this before?” or worse, “Do I already own it?”

I got up from my snuggled-into position on the couch, walked into my home office and looked on the shelves of my bookcase. Sure enough, there it was. So I printed out my shopping list and did a cross check with what I already owned and to my surprise, or dismay, four of the books already adorned my shelf. I decided then that before I did any more shopping I should take a full inventory of what I already own.

Now I have most of the basics by my desk for easy access: the largest dictionary that I can pick up, a thesaurus for when I desperately need another word, a few books on proper grammar and style. Of course, there are the other standards for a fiction writer such as books on developing a scene, the importance of the first five pages, writing effective dialogue and how to prepare a manuscript for submission.

All of those books are normal for a fiction writer, but it is the genre of my writing that makes my top shelf so peculiar. There is a variety of reference books with titles such as: Making Crime Pay; A Complete Guide to Poisons which rates toxicity level from 1 to 5, describes the symptoms of the poison and how to mask it if possible; Guns, Knives and Other Weapons of Death which dedicates a bit too many pages to antique weapons for my stories; Cause of Death : A Writer's Guide to Death, Murder and Forensic Medicine, which is self explanatory.

It made me wonder, if someone came into my office and only looked at my top shelf what would they think? Would they assume I was in law enforcement, or would they fear I was a hired assassin, slowly back out of the room and make a nonchalant exit from my home?

Take a few moments, look over your collection and ask yourself, “What does my bookcase say about me?”

Writing Stories That Fly, Part II

By Celinda Barefield

Now you have a book on how to write. The question becomes, how do I apply it to my writing? This can be seen as a downer for most writers. If it wasn’t hard enough getting just the right book to fix your problem, now you have to actually read it and apply the written word to your work. This might seem a Herculean task, but with these three steps it is accomplishable.

1. Read the book. Yes, I know we like to focus on writing, but sometimes it can be helpful to take a break and read something by someone else, especially if it will ultimately improve what we are working on. I know, it sounds crazy, but it is possible other people can help us.

2. Highlight the parts that catch your interest. Maybe they relate to a problem area, or maybe they were just funny. It could be an exercise, a quick quote, or even a smart how- to tip. The point is that you looked for help and are enthusiastic about writing again.

3. Apply your newfound knowledge. That’s it. The big secret of writing. If you take the time to use what you learn, your writing will get better.

Now, go out and conquer!

HAVE YOU HUGGED A LIBRARIAN TODAY?

BY TIEM WILSON

Well, okay, you probably shouldn’t walk up to just anyone and hug him or her. You might get punched in the face. You can, however, offer a warm handshake, a big smile, and a sincere "thank you." However you choose to do so, you should commend a librarian for his or her assistance. Consider the following story:

* * *

Sally walks into the library full of confidence. She has just finished reading The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane by Kate DiCamillo. She enjoyed the story so much that she wants to find a similar book to read. “Welcome to the Children’s Library,” says the librarian. “May I be of assistance?”

“No, thank you,” Sally replies. “I just need to use the computer.” Sally considers herself to be pretty computer savvy. She will simply pull up DiCamillo’s book and search for similar listings. It seems easy enough.

Moments later, Sally walks away from the computer distraught. She drifts toward the assistance desk.

“Do you need help finding something?” asks the same librarian. The calm tone of her voice soothes Sally.

“I read The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane and want to find a similar novel, one with more about the personification of the toy.”

“Have you read The Velveteen Rabbit?” The librarian produces the call number with a few quick taps on the keyboard. “Toys Go Out is another good one.” More clicks produce another call number.

The librarian’s knowledge amazes Sally. Her agonizing search on the computer produced neither of these books. When another librarian retrieves the books, Sally skims the jacket of Toys Go Out and finds it is just what she’s looking for. It would have taken hours of searching the database to find this book. It would have required her to open the summary of each of the 100+ books on her search list of similar subjects.

Having regained her composure from the agitation of her own computer search, Sally decides to test the glorious cataloged mind of the librarian. “My son reads only Captain Underpants or Magic Treehouse novels. He is also into everything science. Can you recommend other books he might enjoy?”

“How about Frannie K. Stein?” offers the omniscient librarian.

Sally would never be able to obtain this kind of information from a computer search. The librarian possesses extensive knowledge about the many books shelved in the library. It is part of the job, right? However, who would expect someone to be able to cite the perfect book at a moment’s notice and off the top of her head? Sally realizes the invaluable service of the librarian and is grateful. She wants to hug the librarian. Instead, she checks out her books and walks out of the library full of gratitude and awe.

* * *

The library is a wonderful place to gain knowledge on a variety of subjects and at relatively low cost. The staff works hard to make the experience as convenient and painless as possible. It is a public service usually offered with a big smile and an eagerness to help. So, the next time you check out the latest book or DVD at your public library, stop to hug a librarian (or at least give a heart-felt “Thank You”).