By: Tag Gregory
What’s the difference between a serial killer and an author?
Well, if you’re judging them by the search history that comes up on their computers, not much.
In the decade or so that I’ve been writing, I’ve pretty much researched everything. That’s not much of an exaggeration, either. You name it and I’ve either researched it or I’ve asked someone else about it. Because that’s what a meticulous writer, who’s lived a relatively sheltered life, does. We research the crap out of stuff so we can write about it more convincingly. And it doesn’t matter if that ‘stuff’ is about how to knit a sweater or how to kill someone without getting caught. It’s really all the same thing to us authors.
This, of course, reminds me of the give and take in the writing community between ‘own voices’ vs. imagination. Don’t get me wrong; I’m a 100% supporter of ‘own voices’. Traditionally marginalized groups SHOULD get more representation in the literary world. I would never argue against that proposition or begrudge a person from an underrepresented group writing about her or his own experiences and getting their work recognized.
But, in my personal opinion, there’s still a place in the writing community for imagination too. Nobody should be arguing that an author can’t effectively write about something outside their lived experience. Because, as long as I can imagine it, I can write about it. That’s the best part of writing, to be honest; the celebration of imagination. It’s all about getting to the essence of the creativity of the author. With the magic of research, I can be anyone or anything I want to be. It’s all about translating that spark of imagination into a reality you form with your words and your intellect and your curiosity through the medium of your research. And that’s what makes it fun.
I mean, Stephen King isn’t a psychopathic killer - or at least I don’t think he is - but he writes a damn convincing murderer. And I don’t think J.K. Rowling is really a wizard either. So you shouldn’t be giving me a hard time about writing scenes set in a gay bath house in the 1940s. I may not have lived in that time or seen those sights with my own eyes, but I’m one hell of a great researcher, and I can and do write about anything and everything I can discover through my research.
With a library card and an internet connection I can write anything.
You don’t believe me? Well, here’s just a short list of some of the crazy things I’ve had to research over the years...
I mentioned before that I’ve researched how to kill people. I’ve done that for more than one story, so the methods I’ve read up about span the gamut from the damage a bullet does to the human body, to blunt force trauma, to poison, to how fast anaphylactic shock sets in if you’re dosed with something you’re allergic to. Because of this morbid bent, a lot of my characters end up in the hospital - repeatedly - so I’m always looking at medical websites to figure out how to treat them, whether they’ll die from whatever injury or illness I’ve given them, and how fast they’ll take to recover. Along the way I’ve had to know about the history of vaccines, when the first x-ray was taken, how an iron lung works, and what first aid kits looked like in the 1940s. I spent one whole evening researching infectious disease control measures and the history of virology. I know the entire history of how CPR was developed. I know all the symptoms and treatments for both OCD and PTSD. I’ve written a lot of stories centered around abuse, so I’m pretty much an expert these days on everything including physical, mental and narcissistic abuse. I don’t know why I love torturing my characters so much, but I really should learn to write at least one story that doesn’t involve a hospital.
I’m a total perfectionist, so I’m constantly looking at maps of the settings for my stories. I love maps. I especially love interactive maps. When we were writing Time Blitz I spent days playing around on this amazing interactive map that shows where every single bomb was landed in London during WWII. And I don’t even want to calculate how many hours I’ve spent on Google Street View looking at places I can’t go myself. I’ve calculated the exact distances between buildings and city blocks and cities and continents. I’ve even drawn my own maps of places that didn’t quite exist in reality. I’m not above using real life places while also augmenting them with additions I make up to fit my plots. So, while I often work off real photos - thus making sure I describe something as meticulously as possible - I’m not above embellishing where needed. I’m so hung up on place settings and maps and locations, though, that I’ve flown all the way across the country to take pictures of buildings I plan to use in my stories and walk the streets of a city just to make sure I soak up the correct ambience.
My research isn’t limited to physicalities. I research pretty much anything that comes across my computer as I write. I’m such a nerd. I once spent an hour researching the history of M&Ms. I’ve researched architectural styles. I’ve researched the history of various schools of art. I’ve researched art school and the typical curriculum particular schools offer. I’ve looked up the names of the US Senators from Pennsylvania back to the 1950s. I’ve had to search for the names of various styles of dress and styles of eyeglass frames and who makes designer wristwatches and where you buy vintage suits and how long Burberry has been in business. I know when the first showers were put into hotels and when en suite bathrooms became popular. I once had to look up when photo booths were invented. I’m an expert in how tall a stack of $5,000 worth of $100 bills would be. I know the RAF’s motto - Through Adversity To The Stars. I know the most popular Sikh boys names in 2017. I looked up the release date of Fantasia and what the top grossing films of 1941 were and the name of the best selling novel in 1956. I even watched about a million hours of videos of swing dancing so I could write about it. And, yes, all these things are tediously esoteric, but I get off on this kind of stuff, so sue me.
Perfectionist that I am, I even research all the sexier parts of the stories I write. Because I wouldn’t want to write a sex scene that involves multiple partners and have it come off as unrealistic. So, yeah, I watch my share of porn - but only for educational purposes. *Wink* I’ve read ‘The Joy of Gay Sex’, The Kama Sutra and articles on tantric massage. I’ve also researched the history of condoms and, specifically, what types and brands of condoms were available in WWII. I’ve researched all sorts of STDs. I spent almost a week reading a detailed history of the AIDS epidemic. I’ve read books about what it was like being gay in various eras and how homosexuals were treated throughout history. I’ve spent many facinated hours researching the history of sex toys, and learned so much, you wouldn’t believe it. And, just to make sure that I’m accurately describing what I’m writing, I’ve drawn diagrams (using stick figures, because I’m not that artistic) to work out kinky sex scenes and watched YouTube videos of judo throws to see just how a man’s body would work and how his muscles would flex in specific scenes. I know, it’s tough work, but somebody HAS to research these things. I wouldn’t want to get any of it wrong.
The Time Adventures Series - because they are time travel stories - have been especially interesting for a born researcher like myself. I’m in seventh heaven here, folks. I literally can’t get enough of researching and writing these books.
For the latest book, Time Cures, I had a lot of fun learning more about 1950s London and the post-WWII changes that happened to the City. But that wasn’t enough, because our heroes do a little travelling in this book. So I had to research the history of jet airplanes, commercial airlines, and the exact specifications, air speed, fuel capacities, and maximum ceiling of prop-engine planes from the 1950s. That led down a rabbit hole where I ended up reading all about Howard Huges for several hours. To get a more personal take, I interviewed my step-dad - who had a pilots’ license back in the 1960s and 1970s before he lost it for flying under a bridge in a crop duster plane (he promises he wasn’t as drunk as they claimed) - about the quirks of flying older planes. He gave me some great ideas about how to crash an airplane. Then I spent most of one whole night sitting down and actually writing out a flight plan for how to cross the Atlantic ocean in a prop-engine plane; which I later scrapped as soon as it became clear the idea was completely infeasible. This endeavor was complicated by trying to figure out which airfields existed in 1956, which was made more difficult, in part, because the names of the various airports in use since then have all changed. Spoiler: I had a LOT of fun working on this plotline and I think it shows when you read the story.
Thankfully, my co-author, Lily, is Brit herself, so I had some help with the more British parts of the research. Lily is the one who helped me write effectively about pre-decimalized English pounds, shillings, and pence. Lily is the one who recommended we make reference to The Great Ormond Street Hospital. She’s also the one who researched and supervised my attempts to write Irish and Scottish and Welsh accents. Lily also knows about London and corrects anything I get wrong about the locations there. When needed - at least in the pre-COVID days - I could always send her on field trips around the City. These books couldn’t have been written without Lily’s expertise.
Oh, and don’t even get me started on my ridiculously extensive research - including reading I don’t even remember how many scientific articles found on Google Scholar - about how magnets can be used to extend batteries and enhance electrical fields. Armed with that knowledge, I spent Christmas Eve in a long and deliciously technical conversation with the husband of a friend, who happens to be a Physics Professor, over homebrewed cider, discussing whether or not time travel was theoretically possible. (He assures me it isn’t no matter how many times I tried to point out papers I’d read by physicists theorizing about how strong magnetic fields actually alter Einstein’s famous E=mc2 formula . . .) We’ll see about that; because remember how I was going on about imagination? Pretty sure H.G. Wells never really invented a time machine. Or did he?
Which brings me back around to my strange browser history again. I’ve never actually had the need, but I now know how to forge a passport. I looked up the best ways to get or create a fake ID. I’ve thoroughly researched how to pick a lock. I know where to steal explosives. I know how to fake my own death and even how to frame someone else for the crime. I’ve lost track of exactly how many men I’ve killed over the years without ever getting caught.
So, I’m just saying . . . If you’re with the FBI and you’re reading this post, please don’t arrest me for that last search I did on how to build a bomb. I swear it’s only for a story. Really. I promise.
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