research: the story of my life

Research. Ri-surch. From Old French resercher. Circa 1570-1580. Noun. Meaning "diligent and systematic inquiry or investigation into a subject in order to discover or revise facts, theories, applications, etc.". Thank you Dictionary.com.

As a writer, I get to research all over the place. I've been working on an extensive guide to Paradox, my NaNoWriMo future novel (can you tell I'm excited about it?) and while I'm procrastinating on researching things for my history classes, I've been researching for that.  If I ever want to publish a book, I need to keep doing research on how to get it done (as Kiersten White so humourously points out in her Monday post, you can't cut in line, you've gotta do it the long, slow way).  My whole life is filled with research, and I'd like to snobbily say that I think I've gotten pretty good at it.

Example.

Right now, I ought to be working on my Roman Empire paper.  For a paper, I'm actually enjoying writing it (maybe my title will give you a hint why it's amusing - "When in Rome, Do as the Romans Do:  Murder and Sex as a Path to Power for the Imperial Roman Nobility").  I'm not to worried about it, even though it needs to end up at fifteen pages and at the moment, I have six.  Let me reiterate that:  I have six, and I'm halfway through the first book I am using.  Out of five.  My problem has never been about getting the research done.  It's been about cutting things out and choosing the important stuff.  I'll write a thirty page paper, then cut it to the core later.

I'm graduating college on May 7th at 1pm.  It's difficult to answer when people ask me "what are you going to do next?"  Simple answer:  I Have No Freaking Clue.  Complex answer:  I'm going to keep learning and keep writing and work hard at whatever job I can find to make ends meet.  I'm going to get married to my wonderful Bryan and we're going to England in October and I'd like to get my Masters at Brown, but that's hours away and incredibly expensive, so basically, I'm going to keep doing everything I can to survive... kind of like you.

Then they ask me that killer question:  "Well, what's your major?"  It's like they think they're going to have some divine influence over me if they know my major.

"History," I say.  Their expression falls.  Dayamn.  What to do with that?

"You can teach, then," they suggest, usually in a low mumble.

Oh, what a world, what a world.  See, the funny thing about a History major?  It's essentially an English major with a different subject matter and a few added perks (dooms).  We read an exorbitant amount of books (sometimes literature, but mostly non-fiction).  We write tomes... I mean research papers.  We critically analyse and tear apart works... sometimes down to the use of a single word (I kid you not... spent half an hour in class yesterday discussing why Edward Gibbon chose the word "Christian" to put in his first sentence of The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire.)  Then we do one more thing that I don't often hear about English majors doing - research.

Back to that, de researcher.  As much as I prefer the idea of diving into something with just my imagination and tea and possibly pretzel M&Ms to accompany me, research has been infinitely helpful in my writing process.  The first chapter of Fate is the result of research about the Spanish Inquisition that I did for my Atlantic History class, coupled with personal research about the Salem Witch Trials.  In fact, some of the things Jessica says in her trial are taken directly from the transcripts of Rebecca Nurse's examination (I think I've altered them a little during edits, but my favourite lines were always "You do not know my heart" and "I cannot help it, the Devil may appear in my shape").  I truly believe that chapter, chapter one, is my very best in the entire novel.

Other things from my studies also appear.  The pantheon of gods in Fate is certainly similar to the Greek pantheon (seventh grade, language arts, studying mythology but specifically the siblings Artemis and Apollo), but the most focussed-upon deity is Kantra, the Mother Goddess, which I pulled from my knowledge of Wicca (eleventh grade, sociology, final paper).  The world around Kyrix is desert, dry and the city resembles Constantinople (junior year of college, Crusades; senior year of college, Islamic worlds) whereas Malai is rich and green with knights and valor (freshman year of college, Medieval Europe).  All of my worlds are surrounded around research and my knowledge of historical cultures.  All my best writing is that way.

I also studied basic chemistry (mostly through Wikipedia......) to work through the science-fiction world of Strange last NaNoWriMo.  Getting the picture yet?

Research is so important to my writing process.  I'm not sure how it happened, but now that it has I realise that it is absolutely indispensable.

In short, for better, for worse... research is the story of my life.

And that is why I'm a history major.

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Last Movie/TV Viewed: Protocol. It's on Netflix and has Goldie Hawn in it. Very 80s. Not 80s high school, though. It was on the television. I sort of paid attention.
Last Song Heard: "When I Grow Up" The Pussycat Dolls. ... To be fair, though, it was on Just Dance 2.
Last Google Search: "Babelfish". There are just some verbs in French that I don't know. But I will.
Today in History: Mattel's Barbie doll toy by Ruth Handler made its first appearance in New York at the American International Toy Fair in 1959.

the edit monster says "omnomnom!"

Yesterday I blogged about my difficulties with one of my characters and speaking in her voice.  That is part one of my difficulties with editing Fate, and this is part two: the Edit Monster.

I think everyone has their own Edit Monster.  Mine has wrinkly orange skin and bronze-colored plates like a stegosaurus.  He's reasonably well-trained and never nips at me.  Edit Monsters certainly do tend to have their own qualities.  Mine, like any child, loves eating out.  Meaning that if I'm editing a friend's story, it will bleed.  Lots.  And when I edit my own, it bleeds lots too, but later on I find that the Edit Monster hid the brussell sprouts under the napkin and put way too much ketchup on its meatloaf.  After the whole process, yes, I've cut out a great deal, but suddenly it seems as though I have a thousand words more than when I started editing.  Um, doesn't that kind of defy the point?

Personally, I've always been a prolific writer.  I volunteer to do the single twenty-page essay because I know that if I try to do the 3-seven-page essays, I'll end up doing 3-twelve-page essays.  It's a gift, and sometimes it's a curse.  I know I'm not alone.  Sammy, over at Access Approved, finished her first novel at over 200 pages.  Mine doesn't get that far.

So what I want to know is... what type of writer are you?  Does editing sometimes seem add to your work instead of fine-tuning it?  And, most importantly, what does your Edit Monster look like?

Cheers!

hello darkness, my old friend

Let me set the scene for you.

The air inside the cabin is dank and musty, and you feel your allergies acting up, so you step outside on to the rough wood porch overlooking rolling fields.  The sun is just creeping up behind the farthest green hill, and the sky is splattered in pink and blue.  You're not alone on the porch, even though it's just barely sunrise.  But you're not surprised.

Leaning against the dipped wood rail, her hands are wrapped tight around the bone china teacup.  She doesn't say anything to you; just flicks her short red hair over her shoulder and takes a sip.  It's a little strange, seeing an experienced army pilot watching the sunrise and drinking herbal tea from a cup painted with dainty yellow flowers.

Meet Jylouna Martin.

She is my nemesis.

For the last I-don't-know-how-many-weeks I have been fighting a silent battle with her.  I avoid writing in her perspective because she simply disapproves of it.  Just.  Can't.  Get.  Into.  Her.  Voice.  Ever. I love her character (I love all my characters) but whenever I read back what I have written I feel like crumbling up a piece of paper and throwing it violently at... something.  Only I write on my computer, and it's harder to crumble my laptop screen.

I was pacing back and forth in my room when I reopened Chapter Four of Fate for editing.  Partially because Jyla was up to her old "you're-going-to-write-in-my-voice?--I-think-not" tricks, but my difficulties were also coming from a different character:  Timothy Brown.  Since my goal is to finish 'Tweens by the end of the year, I've been writing, even thinking a lot in Timmy's voice.  So as I was trying to write Jyla, I was writing Timmy.  Editing is slow.

Ever have that problem?  A character voice you have a lot of trouble writing in?  What is your greatest difficulty when switching efforts from one work-in-progress to another?

Also, I wanted to share this.  I know I'm three months early, but I just discovered the band All Caps and I thought maybe some people could relate to the sentiment of this video.

flash fiction thursdays: guilty until proven innocent

Guilty Until Proven Innocent

As she blinked, red dots splattered across her vision from the interrogator's lights.  Jyla kept her hands clasped to her sides.  Her interrogator faced the steel wall.  Jyla chewed on her bottom lip and watched him, waiting for him to move, listening for his breathing; waiting for any sign of her interrogator's humanity.

"Where were you first taken?" he asked a voice like snake.

"Borderlands," Jyla responded immediately.  Her instruments were destroyed when her aircraft ignited, so she had no way of giving more details.  Her interrogator did not turn to face her.  Instead, he stood in motionless silence.  It made her skin crawl.

"Where."

"My instruments were destroyed in the fire that took my Mosquito."

"Where are the ruins of the aircraft."

"I told you, Sir, I don't know exact coordinates."

Her interrogator stepped forward and placed a white gloved hand against the wall.  The outline of a door carved itself in the metal.  "That is not good enough," he told her, and exited.

Even after he left, Jylouna did not move.  She knew the walls were mirrors, and people were watching in.  She suspected that the King's Men thought that she had betrayed the King and given her aircraft to rebels hiding in the forest.  And even though she knew these allegations were false, she had no way to prove it.

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Author's Note:
Seeing an upcoming deadline, I've switched from working on 'Tweens to editing chapter four of Fate.  The character here, Jylouna (Jie-L'ow-Nuh) is the character whose voice I speak in for that chapter, but she is also my most difficult character to write.  I've been having difficulty getting back into her head.  Please let me know if this is flat or feels forced.
Much love,
Amber