Research and Rabbit Holes
By Yolanda Smith
Inspiration is running
hot. Words are coming to you faster than you can capture them on the keyboard.
Your main character, having heard an intruder in the kitchen, digs through the
closet for her handgun. But it’s important to use specifics. What kind of gun
does she have?
Google to the rescue. A
quick search for “women and handguns” reveals women are choosing Glocks these
days, dispelling myths that females need a smaller caliber, or prefer
revolvers, or any number of other stereotypes. Wait. There are myths about
women and guns? What’s that all about? You’ve got to know more.
You type “myths about
women and guns” in the search bar, and your first thought is, “Holy mackerel,
there are myths on both sides of the gun control issue.” And then you wonder
how “holy mackerel” popped into your head, since it’s not a term you’re fond of
using. Where did that phrase even originate?
The internet provides
answers yet again. You learn it was probably a substitution for an unacceptable
expletive, thereby making it less offensive. The website makes a comparison to
the phrase jumping Jehosophat. Wait a minute. He’s a character in the Bible,
right? And you thought his name was spelled differently. Wikipedia reveals his
name as Jehoshaphat (yay, you were right) and says the phrase “Jumpin’
Geehosofat” is first recorded in the 1865-1866 novel The Headless Horseman
by Thomas Mayne Reid.[1]
But you thought
Washington Irving wrote that story. Another search reveals Irving’s work is a
short story and bears the title The Legend of Sleepy Hollow. You
envision the cartoon version you watched as a kid and get the willies. Will
nightmares plague you tonight?
Your eyes drift back to
the computer screen—and—UGH!!! WHAT HAPPENED?
Dear friend, you fell
down the rabbit hole.
For half an hour.
It’s time for lunch, and your red-hot inspiration
has burned to a pile of powdery ashes.
Please tell me I’m not
the only writer who has experienced this. When I began the rough draft of my
novel, I’d already conducted a ton of research. It never dawned on me that in
the throes of scene-writing I would need further research on less-significant
items. I fell down rabbit holes more than a few times before I realized
something had to change. Otherwise, I’d never get my book written.
I devised a solution. Then
I found out other, wiser writers employed similar methods. I only wish someone
had told me about it before I got bruised, dirty, and lost. But now I’m telling
you, in case you’re one of the three people in the world that didn’t already
know.
These days, when I come
to a spot of writing that needs research, I give myself a bracketed
placeholder. Here are a couple of examples:
The
flames licked the south side of the barn. Celia screamed for help before she
grabbed the [bracket—what materials were buckets made of in the 1830s?] bucket
and ran for the river.
The
smell of fall was in the air, and the [bracket—ask hubby which trees
change colors first] trees were showing the first hint of orange [bracket—or
red or yellow] across the hills.
Why do I write the word
bracket when I’ve placed actual brackets around the things I need to explore?
Later, when I follow up at the end of
the scene, chapter, or even the entire manuscript, I use the Find function in
Word, type in the word bracket, and my placeholders all show up at once.
I’m able to address them when I’m in research mode, rather than losing momentum
during a creative streak.
Research isn’t the only
writing hole we tumble down, but it can be a big one. What other things tend to
get you off track? What practical solutions would you offer for staying on
task?
[1] Wikipedia
contributors. "Jehoshaphat." Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia.
Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, 2 Jun. 2019. Web. 14 Jun. 2019.
(Photos courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net, Stuart Miles, and Sira Anamwong.)
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