Research overload

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It's fall, and time for me to begin thinking of what research books I'm going to take south with me this winter. What am I going to need as I continue work on The Next Novel?

The technology changes so quickly, my database and library systems have radically changed. Now I note which books are searchable on Amazon.com and which on Books Google. Other books are fully on-line or downloaded onto my computer.

I've a towering stack of books that I've already read and marked with notes. I'm considering photographing the pages: put into EverNote (or DevonThink, possibly?), they would then be searchable. I could scan, but that takes longer.

My luggage lightens, and my computer swells. And as for my head? It's about to explode!



*****
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Crawling through a story

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I'm still struggling with the first section of The Next Novel. Putting scenes under a microscope, I realize how much I've left unsaid — unimagined.

How exactly do they get into the city? By what route?
Do they need papers?
What are they wearing?
What are they seeing, experiencing, feeling?
Where will they stay the night?
How will they lock up their things?
What about the donkey! Doesn't she need food and water?

On one level the revision process has to do with the big picture: the movement of energy from one scene to another. On another level it has to do with the little picture, the microscopic view, with bringing scenes to life through detail. Both are the work of the 3rd draft.

I often think of Ariel Gore's summation of the writing process: lather and rinse, lather and rinse. I'm at a lather stage, but I wish it were that easy. It feels, instead, like crawling through a story, groping in the dark. It can be painstaking, and often, for me, requires quite a bit of research. It's slow going — but then, as I've said many times before, beginnings are the hardest.

Writing in the Age of Distraction, by Doctorow

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A twitter link led me to an article by the SF writer Cory Doctorow, on the geekish tools he uses and has developed for his writing. I'm a fool for geekish tools, so I clicked. I was intrigued — nay, I nearly clicked "download" — until I caught myself up. I do not need more fool-around distracting tools. I have my own systems, and I'm best off sticking with them.

But a link at the bottom led me to another article by him. The title — Writing in the Age of Distraction — jumped right out at me. "Age of Distraction" indeed. I need to heed his advice about not being ceremonious. I liked his suggestion about not researching while writing, to insert a searchable "tk" instead, so that you can find and deal with those time-consuming pesky details after the draft is finished. (I use "xx".)

I like how he writes, and I'm tempted to read more of his articles — but not now, in this early morning creative time. So instead I click "Read Later," and Instapaper will hold it for me. That's my geek tool recommendation for today: "read later."

The annoyance of being called up on research

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I was recently contacted by the playwright Lynn Nottage (who is up for a Pulitzer Prize — read this interview in the L.A. Times). I had expressed a wish on my research blog to discuss the research she'd done for her play "Las Meninas," in which Queen Maria-Teresa has a child by her African dwarf. I didn't think it possible that the Queen could have had a child by anyone other than the King: she was almost fanatically religious and (most importantly) she was never alone.

Lynn Nottage said that she would be happy to discuss her research — initiating several email exchanges — but it must surely have been annoying to her on two counts. I'm sometimes contacted by readers asking about points of research I did over 15 years ago. It's time-consuming digging back into the files. It's also not really relevant to a work of art to ask "Is it true?" The truth of a work exists in the work itself, and "Las Meninas" is a brilliant play.

(I thought of this while researching the theatre world at the time of the Sun King, reading about a man who regularly interrupted the performances of plays by Racine, objecting to the historical "facts" as portrayed and demanding to know Racine's sources.)

What's interesting (to me, in any case), is that in pulling together my own arguments in support of my thesis, I've reversed my judgement. Now I think Lynn Nottage is right, that it is possible, if not likely, that the Queen did have a child by her African dwarf. I've put my findings in an on-line essay here: The Queen's Mystery Daughter.

Much thanks to Lynn Nottage for being such a good sport about all this!

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Link to my research blog posts on this subject: http://tinyurl.com/co3bx5
Link to my essay, "The Queen's Mystery Daughter": http://tinyurl.com/cjbvzs

Getting going again

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I started committed research again last night ("I have to get going; have to start thinking about The Next Novel; I can't Twitter my life away ... !"), and, like always, the sparks began sparking, the ideas started to come and before I knew it I was scrambling for the notepad and pencil.

Research: it works like a charm every time.


*****
Link to my Blog Tour details: http://tinyurl.com/cbk662
Link to my blog (and website): http://sandragulland.blogspot.com/
Link to my newsletter sign-up: http://sandragulland.com/contacts/index.html

Happy New Year!

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Last year was a "charged" year, for me. Having a book come out, jumping into the world of Net promo, going on an extensive tour as well as a trip to Europe: whew.

We are heading off for three weeks on the coast now, so I have to give some thought to what I will be needing there. Books, books, books, but mainly: my computer. There will be final manuscript to approve of the anthology I'm part of, further thoughts on my outline — especially dreamstorming — questions to answer from a film-maker proposing a documentary. No doubt, too, there will be paperback copy to approve, etc. etc. etc. A writer's work goes on, regardless.

I love the regenerative impulse of the New Year. I've made resolutions (too many, I'll need to be more realistic). One of the resolutions, of course, is to get better organized, both in life and on computer. Right now, I'm trying to sort out how to better keep track of my research notes. I use, mainly, NoteBook, which I've mentioned before (and love) — but it has some limitations. For example, if I want to insert a visual from the Net, I have to copy it to my desktop and then insert it into the appropriate place in the Notebook. That's a bit slow, and one big disadvantage is that it doesn't carry with it information about where that clipping came from.

I should note that if I used Safari instead of FireFox, I could clip from the Net to Notebook directly, and that the clip would carry the URL source information with it — but then I'd still have to move that clip to its appropriate spot in my extensive outline (time-consuming). But more importantly, Safari drives me crazy!

I've discovered that the same problem exists when clipping to DevonThink. It's a FireFox problem, but I'm unwilling to move back to Safari because of it. For now.

I've explored Zotero, a web-based database designed by historians for historians, but quickly discovered that it didn't "communicate" with all websites. This limitation was too limiting for me.

And so I was interested when son Chet told me about Evernote, a free FireFox add-on (which works with both Mac and PC I should note). With Evernote, it's easy to clip to a database that exists on my computer as well as on the web (nice). The URL source comes along with the clip (good). It's easy to search (excellent). My only complaint, so far, is that you can't nest files — but with good use of tags that may not be necessary. For now, I'm trying it out. I prefer having all my information in one place, one database, but that simply may not be possible. Nous verrons ...



A snapshop of my Evernote database — so far.

Putting the Prod in Productivity

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Winnie-the-Pooh

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Two friends from up north have emailed me to say that they heard me interviewed on the CBC last Saturday. This wasn't a real interview, but "Proustian" questions posed to a number of writers. What I'm curious to know is if they used the question: "Who is your favourite literary character?" Because my answer was — ta da! — Winnie the Pooh.

And really, who doesn't love Winnie?

I'm heavy into research again. Before I construct a plot around a Black Mass, I have to decide if it likely happened — and if so, when ... and where. This first entailed re-visiting the best book on the subject, and then, of course (because I have to see for myself), wading into the archives of the Bastille to view to trial accounts first-hand. These archives are now downloadable and on my computer: the Net is so amazing. What it means is that I can read the word-for-word transcripts of trials that took place in 1680.

But it's ugly stuff — certainly not a Winnie-the-Pooh world — and all the accounts differ. What a cast of characters, though, charlatans in every shape and size. I'm with Winnie on this: puzzled as all get-out.

The Black Hole of Research

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I needed to get the wheels going once again on my concept-outline of The Next Novel. In no time at all I had fallen, like Alice in Wonderland, into what I think of as The Black Hole of Research. I emerged at 1:30, eyes-crossed, brain-numb, having forgotten to eat, much less even move.

1652: young Athénaïs is at her family chateau in Lussac and the Court is near-by in Poitiers. All I wanted to know is what Lussac was like, and what her family chateau looked like (and if it still existed). As well I wanted to know where the Court would likely have been housed while in Poitiers. In all this day, I didn't find out very much about Lussac, and I didn't even get to Poitiers.

As for the family chateau — there is a museum of prehistory that claims to be housed there (or what's left of it): so I got that far. But no images. Perhaps the most sparky bit of information I got in all this is that her family's motto was "Ante mare undae" — "Spirit surpasses matter." That's a sweet little detail.

Fact and Fiction revisited

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I've just finished reading Atonement by McEwan: what a masterful novel. I immediately searched the Net for discussions about it. It's a novel that's holds its grip. Now what will I read? Everything seems pale by comparison.

It is, technically, a historical novel. I recalled the plagarism scandal: McEwan had apparently too-closely borrowed from a non-fiction account. Here, for example, is from Lucilla Andrews's 1977 memoir, No Time for Romance:

"Bit sort of tight. Could you loosen it?" ... Then as I did not think it would do any damage to loosen the gauze bows, I let go of his hand, stood up, undid the first and, as the sterile towel beneath slid off and jerked aside the towel above, very nearly fainted on his bed. The right half of his face and some of his head was missing. I had consciously to fight down waves of nausea and swallow bile, wait until my hands stopped shaking and dry them on my back before I could retie the bow... [After he dies in her arms, a Sister says to her] "Go and wash that blood off your face and neck, at once, girl! It'll upset the patients."

And this from McEwan, in Atonement:

"These bandages are so tight. Will you loosen them for me a little?" She stood and peered down at his head. The gauze bows were tied for easy release ... She was not intending to remove the gauze, but as she loosened it, the heavy sterile towel beneath it slid away, taking a part of the bloodied dressing with it. The side of Luc's head was missing ... She caught the towel before it slipped to the floor, and she held it while she waited for her nausea to pass ... fixed the gauze and retied the bows ... The Sister straightened Briony's collar. "There's a good girl. Now go and wash the blood from your face. We don't want the other patients upset."

I remember the outrage over this and other "borrowed" passages. McEwan is beyond brilliant, but I think he could have integrated his research more, made it his own. I did feel that the war sections, although overwhelmingly powerful, were just a bit too research-thick. He is at his strongest, I think, when his focus is tight, when his characters are face-to-face.

I'm not sure, frankly. I'm still under the spell of this amazing novel.

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Now, two days later, I'm still puzzling over this novel; that's a wonderful feeling, when characters take up residence. I like the puzzles it leaves. I long for people to talk to about it. It would be an excellent selection for a book club, because there is so much to discuss.

Insofar as the plagarism accusations, I think there is a strong case to be made "for the defense." Writers are by nature magpies, stealing shiney things to make their nest. We are sparked by ideas, and throw them into the stew-pot of the novel. Had that nurse and patient story been told to me by a friend, I would certainly have used it. I gather my materials everywhere I go.

So is it so very different when the inspirational story is in written form? It's touchy. I do think one needs to be more careful. What I do: I break up an account into bits, use parts here and there. I make sure to put quoted sections in quotes in my notes, so that I know to reword it. Even so, the source underpinnings of a particular scene might be evident to someone who knows the material well.

The Life of Pi was inspired by another work of fiction. There is a scene in Geraldine Brook's prize-winning novel March I know I've read elsewhere — I just can't recall where. Novelists are blessed to find accounts that give them the true-life detail they need, and are apt to consume such accounts hungrily.

Research!

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I'm in book mode. Winter will soon be upon us, and we plan to leave for sunny Mexico in only a few weeks. What research books will I need to take? I'm still somewhat unsure about the subject of The Next Novel. I have been thinking that it will be about La Grande Mademoiselle, but another possibility pounced upon me a week before we left for Europe and has taken root in my thoughts. It would be told against a background of the theatrical life in the 17th century. There is so much to be learned. On a practical level, I will need information, books — and I don't have very much time to order.

More anon!

(I also just posted to my research blog: Baroque Explorations.)

Research stimulation

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I've started percolating, thinking of The Next Novel. The process — which is scary, shapeless and bewildering — is greatly stimulated by research, about which I posted to my research blog: Baroque Exlorations. See you there...

Ishiguro interview in The Paris Review

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I've long loved The Paris Review interviews, but I've acquired a habit of counting the male/female balance of those interviewed, and often that's enough to turn me away. The current issue isn't any different: 7 men in bold on the cover, to 1 woman (Katie Ford, author of a beautiful poem "Earth").

However, the feature interview is with Kazuo Ishiguro, an author I greatly admire. Indeed, he is one of the few male authors who can write absolutely convincingly from a female point-of-view — so convincingly, in fact, that I could not believe that his first novel, A Pale View of Hills, was written by a man. He continues to astonish with every novel he publishes.

Here are some snippets from "The Art of Fiction" that caught my interest:

I’ve never felt that I have a particular facility at writing interesting prose. I write quite mundane prose. I think where I’m good is between the drafts. I can look at one draft, and I have lots of good ideas for what to do with the next one.

I find that reassuring. (I'd like to know how many drafts he might write.)

The PR interviewer asked how the English setting for The Remains of the Day came about, and Ishiguro said that it started with a joke that his wife made.

There was a journalist coming to interview me for my first novel. And my wife said, Wouldn’t it be funny if this person came in to ask you these serious, solemn questions about your novel and you pretended that you were my butler? We thought this was a very amusing idea.

He became obsessed with the idea of a butler as a metaphor for classical British reserve, but also as someone who serves loyally, without any responsibility for the larger issues. He did a lot of research,

but I was surprised to find how little there was about servants written by servants ... . It was amazing that so few of them had thought their lives worth writing about. So most of the stuff in The Remains of the Day about the rituals of being a servant was made up. When Stevens talks of the “staff plan,” that’s made up.

I've long had trouble finding information on what it was, exactly, servants did, so I find this interesting. I'm considering writing about a man who was a loyal secretary to my character — his role would have been similar to that of an English butler.

At this point in the on-line interview, I must chose to purchase the print edition of The Paris Review in order to read what follows. I do, selecting "state" of Ontario (is this a plot?), and scrolling up the long list of countries from the pre-selected U.S.A. to find Canada. Now I'll have to wait for the print issue to arrive the old-fashioned way, by burro-express.