Gerard's Research for Writers

Creative writers can be intimidated by the very idea of "research"- it sounds like something that ought to be funded by the National Science Foundation and conducted by teams of somber rocket scientists in white lab coats. Or else the term smacks of boring library assignments for freshman English papers, complete with a numbing bibliography.

But research - as creative writers practice it- is really a combination of treasure hunting, investigative reporting, talking to interesting people, playing detective, and solving mysteries.

More than anything, research is a habit. Just as writing is a habit- of turning the world into words, even imagining the world as words at the very moment we are experiencing it; of reflecting constantly on what we've seen and heard; of reading for craft and ideas- so research is a way of thinking and behaving, an attitude of open-minded alertness. The research-minded writer always has the antennae up for useful discoveries, always pays attention to seemingly insignificant details in any situation or encounter. For the research-minded writer, no time is ever wasted: Standing in line at the supermarket, waiting in an airline lounge, sharing small-talk at a party, recuperating in a hospital bed, driving for six hours on I-95- all yield valuable impressions and information, defined at its most basic as some clue about how the world works that I didn't have before.

After all, before we can write about the world, we must have an intense experience of it. Research, as I construe it, is a habit of creating that intense experience of the world on many levels.

Some of that research is directed and deliberate: We search for some particular thing- a diary, a photograph, a fact, a person. But some of it is also the result of accident, of being in the right place at the right time. Some of the best discoveries happen when we are not looking for them- and only the habit of research will keep us from missing such an unexpected opportunity:

• Everything is a lesson.
• Show initiative- create the archive.
• Don't give up' easily- be persistent.
• Be smart.
• Use common sense and common courtesy.
• Ask and your shall receive- usually.
• Use both logic and intuition.
• Take advantage of good luck.

Research is finding out what you need to know- and it often begins with figuring out what you need to find out, a kind of research. You are on a quest for the Truth- and that quest begins with a quest for the truth- of events, other people's lives, the world.

Answering three useful questions can get you started:

• •Why do you feel the need to research- what it will add to your project? (Bearing in mind that you may not have a clue what your project is at the moment- your interest has been snagged by something and you are hooked to see where it will lead.)
• •What do you have to know first- background or baseline research- before you can really pursue your research?
• •Where are the primary sources you need to consult?

While it pays to be systematic in organizing research for a long project, the process is far from neat and linear.

Your baseline or background research is likely to be rather general, establishing a context and an overview and perhaps indicating some potentially fruitful avenues to explore. (For example, a general history or biography; a visit to a key locale to establish atmosphere; or a packet of letters that reveal your central character.)

From there you are looking for likely connections, and your research plan may resemble a web more than a straight line: a letter leads you to a name which leads you to a memoir which leads you to a place which leads you to a personal contact in that place who happens to remember key events and also has a letter you should see, which turns out to be mentioned in the memoir and refers to the writer of the first letter and contradicts a historical marker in the place in a very interesting way . . .

Part of the fun of research is that it is messy and surprising. It can ambush you with amazing discoveries, just as it can frustrate and disappoint you with dead ends, people who don't want to talk, a key document missing from an archive, a connection that turns out not to be true after all.

Again, you have to have a plan but also be willing to change that plan or abandon it entirely as you discover new evidence, astonishing coincidences, previously unknown sources, and so on. So part of the habit of research is learning to live with the mess- practically and psychologically. Each day there will be unfinished business, and even weeks or months on the trail of a particular project you may simply feel you are drowning in a sea of facts, interviews, information of all kinds. But don't despair- this is normal.

Just keep careful track of everything you have discovered and organize it in such a way that you can find it easily when the time comes- which may be many months or even years from now. Don't trust your memory alone.

Remember:

• •Everything you find out is valuable- even gaps and missing pieces and what isn't in the record.
• •You often won't know what discoveries will make it into the finished work; researching is a process of harvesting whatever you can and sorting it out once you have a more coherent sense of where it all leads.
• •There is almost always more than one way to find out something- be resourceful.

Every writer needs a place to write- an office, a closet, the laundry room from 8-10 p.m. every Tuesday and Thursday, a desk, even a corner of the kitchen table reserved for that purpose. Just so, a researcher needs a physical "headquarters" for his or her work- a place to gather artifacts, collect files, store books, tapes, and photos. A place with a phone and a keyboard, reliable internet access if at all possible. A place where you can keep your tools, your research, and your writing organized and accessible.

Likewise, on the road a hotel room or guest quarters or even a tent becomes your "field headquarters"- the place from which you sortie into the particular realm of your research, then return to collate your finds, sharpen your notes, make phone calls, and plan what comes next.

A transient headquarters, such as a hotel room, becomes in effect a working platform. You will choose such quarters differently than the way a vacationer chooses it: you want the telephone near the desk, not the bed; you want a desk or table; convenient access to the place where you are doing research; perhaps a business center where you can make photocopies or send faxes; an internet connection; and whatever else you need to do the particular project at hand.

Your car (or in some cases even boat) also becomes a working platform- containing what you need to do your work, as well as any conveniences your morale requires. (For instance, when I take extended research trips by car during which I know I will be staying at a variety of hotels of unknown quality, I carry a folding nylon chair so I always have a comfortable seat in which to relax. Also healthy food and drink, to avoid fast-food. And a good book to read in waiting situations.)

Whether working from home or a temporary "working platform" on the road, you take on the persona of the researcher- and this minor role-playing gives you much more confidence to make cold calls, to knock on strange doors, to approach strangers with questions.