Category: Janis Patterson

Research, or the Lure of the Rabbit Hole

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by Janis Patterson

There’s nothing more frustrating than a novel which mangles history. Unless, of course, it is alternative history (at best a bastard genre) and clearly labeled as such. What raises my ire is when someone writes what is purported to be historical fiction but has such factual clangers in it as to stop the reader cold. My favorite example of this is from a contest I judged when a Regency hero – handsome, wealthy, arrogant as all of them are – pulls a fountain pen from his pocket to sign some important document.


Really? A fountain pen?


The bladder fountain pen that we all know wasn’t invented for at least fifty years after the Regency. Even the steel-tipped dip pen wasn’t invented until after the end of the Regency. Before that, writing was done with feather quills, usually goose.


Of course I dinged the writer severely for not doing proper research, and sent a rather kindly note of explanation of her low score, hoping to raise her consciousness about the necessity of research. Instead she attacked me viciously, not only in a private letter but on social media, ranting that it was an old-fashioned pen and who would know the difference anyway.


And there is the crux of the matter. Far too many people get their ideas of history from novels (and movies, and TV) and therefore as writers we owe them the honesty of real facts.


Such a high-minded ideal is not without its dangers to us, though. I was working on a fairly early Victorian Gothic where my librarian heroine had to make some ink. Now I knew she couldn’t just pop off to the allsorts shop in the village for a bottle, so I went online and looked up how to make ink.


Who knew there were so many ways to make ink? And there are so many people making it today? Well, it was a plethora of information and I started reading happily. Only thing was, I realized that some of the recipes used items to which my early-Victorian-working-in-remote-Scotland heroine would have no access. But I had to make sure of what was available, which took me to botanical sites and shopping sites and each of them led to other sites, most of which had little to nothing to do with Scotland, libraries or ink, and before I knew it hours later I was deep into the intricacies of making Scottish country cheese. Still don’t know quite how I got there, but it was fascinating.


Now I don’t know if I’ll ever need any minutiae about the making of country cheese in Victorian Scotland, but it did give me a deeper insight into the Scottish rural people of the time, their lives, their chores, their way of living. Besides, I believe that everything is useful in some way, some time, some how. Who knows when some snippet of rural Victorian Scottish life/mores/cheesemaking – or something influenced by them – will show up in a totally unrelated story? It’s one of the dangers and the magic of writing!


Doubtless by now you have figured out that I like research. And, having an inquiring (some say nosy) mind, I must admit I do. It’s one of the most fascinating things in the world. And one of the most dangerous. It can take hold of a story, turn it every way from up, then hand it back to you in a form totally different from the way you originally envisioned it. Or, if you are strongminded enough to corral your story to its original form, those little snippets of research are still there, adding depth and shading – and an occasional surprise – to your story.


A prime rule of good writing is Do Your Research. Another rule of good writing is Do Not Let Your Research Take Over. Usually I manage both, but it’s most definitely a delicate balancing act.

Happy New Year! or Bah, Humbug!

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by Janis Patterson

Somewhere it seems to have been written that the first post of a new year is supposed to be a joyous burst of ambition, resolve and anticipation about all the wonderful things the new year brings.


Humbug!


If you’re like me, the new year is startlingly if not exactly like the old year, but with the added stress of having to remember to change from 2024 to 2025 every time you have to write a date. The house is still messy, laundry has to be done, my daily word count has been ignored, meals have to be planned, cooked and cleaned up after… Plus, I’m tired. And fat. Between the gustatory excesses of Thanksgiving, assorted parties (including a family wedding), and the several days of Christmas gatherings and the pure physicality of extra cooking, shopping and gift wrapping – naturally all done with appropriate snacks and meals – I find myself wishing that the lovely clothes I received were all a size or two larger.


Of course, this too will pass. I will return to what I was before the holidays (and hopefully lose a little more!) and wear my new garments with pride, the house will get clean (okay, cleaner) and life will return to the occasionally bizarre standard we regard as normal.


After the final excesses of New Year’s Eve.


There was a time I went out on New Year’s Eve. Friends would have parties – I even gave a couple myself – or on rare occasions my escort of the minute and I would go clubbing, where at the stroke of midnight we would scream, kiss and hug anyone within reach, dodge a flood of balloons and sip champagne. Where did we get the energy?


This New Year’s Eve The Husband and I did what we usually do on New Year’s Eve – stay home in our jammies, eat a good meal (usually leftovers from December’s overwhelming bounty), sip either a good bottle of Veuve Clicquot (the best champagne ever!) or a mug or two of egg nog (usually virgin) and make a concentrated effort to stay awake until midnight, when we kiss and express our hopes for a better new year for us and for everyone. It doesn’t get better than that, folks. This year we actually stayed up after midnight – not because of any resolution or desire to see the New Year in or a result of our libations… You see, one of our local TV stations was running a Twilight Zone marathon…


Anyway, that is why this is a most untraditional post. I am not going to wax eloquent of the delights inherent in a fresh start, or how you really can keep a resolution to write X number of words every single day, or that you now are free to really work towards making the NYT list, or any such nonsense. That would be as ridiculous as telling you to buy a gym membership and actually keep your promise to go Every Single Day… (Does anyone ever really fulfill that resolution? Anywhere?)


Truth is, you can do any of that or any other kind of beginning any day of the year. Back in my youth there was a popular poster proclaiming Today Is The First Day Of The Rest Of Your Life. Kind of cheesy, but also very true. Every day is a new beginning.


Today is your new beginning. So will be tomorrow and the day after tomorrow. Enjoy each and every one of them, but use them wisely.


Happy New Year.

Experience vs Research

~ janispattersonmysteries ~ 4 Comments


by Janis Patterson

I’ll admit it – I’m a travel junkie. So is The Husband. We love to fill our bags, I grab my travel computer (an aged MacBookAir) and then we head off. I’ve gotten several books from my various trips and many more ideas than I can ever use. (Plus, to be honest, a lot of fun and a few downright scary moments…) Being older, we’re trying to squeeze in as much travel as we can afford before it becomes physically unfeasible. Travel is one of the greatest gifts life can offer. It is not a guaranteed gateway to a career.


I really did think everyone sort of thought the same way, but not long ago someone whom up until then I had thought intelligent gave me a rather unpleasant shock. Now you know because I have written again and again I believe there are ideas everywhere – you can get more workable ideas in a couple of days than a dozen writers could work up in a dozen lifetimes. I still believe that, which is why I was absolutely gobsmacked when this person said they really planned on becoming a novelist but they couldn’t start until they had more money to travel with.


This happened at a speaking venue where – among other things – I talked about the research value of travel. After my presentation was over there was a reception, and this person came to talk to me and dropped his bomb about not being able to write until he could afford to travel. Of course I questioned the idea that one had to travel to write novels. He became very defensive and said he didn’t want to be limited to writing only about what he knew, because all he knew was domestic and boring and in his opinion not worthy of his time, talent or effort. He didn’t think it was fair that established writers should have such a prejudicial leg up.


Sorry to burst anyone’s bubble, but I am not always sweet and well-mannered, especially when I am irritated and this person’s somewhat belligerently skewed vision definitely irritated me.


So, I asked, if you haven’t been to a place you can’t write about it? (Now I am not stupid; there are innumerable advantages to actually having been to a place – I just don’t believe it is an absolute requirement.)


He said yes.


I then asked how he thought people wrote historical novels, as time travel machines are pretty rare on the ground. Or sci-fi. Or high fantasy, since I hadn’t seen any dragons zipping around lately either.


Now he was getting angry, saying I was just clouding the issue and trying to discourage him and, he accused, like other multi-published professional writers keep the market for myself. He was an adventure writer, he declared, one who wrote about exotic places and cultures – not a ‘kitchen sink’ drone. He was special and he’d prove it once he could get started.


The rest of the conversation, I am somewhat sad to say, was too intense and impolite for recording here. However, it did make me think… and grieve for those who agree with him. I have always and will always say that research is essential; you have to write about what you know, and if you don’t know about it when you start you should know a great deal about it before you finish – whatever ‘it’ is. However, that does not mean you have to personally experience it! Sometimes that is indeed preferable, sometimes it is just pleasurable, sometimes it is impossible. (At least until they start tourist runs to 1860 or Alpha Centauri.)


If personal, on-the-spot research is impossible and there are no research facts are available, what’s a writer to do? My answer is logical extrapolation. If you’re writing about a space colony with a mixed alien population, you should think about physical makeup, reactions to varying gravitational pulls, breathing (oxygen or methane, for example), eating (fat/carbohydrate vs silicon/mineral sustenance) and the like. Now I know this is far from the world of terrestrial, ‘normal’ mysteries, about which there is thankfully an abundance of research available, but the principle is the same.


You have to know what you’re writing about whether you already know it, research it, create it, experience it or learn it. You are creating a world and in some worlds what you say goes – but once you have said it, it must stay the same for the length of time you are in that world. Even ‘playing God’ as writers do albeit on a limited basis, there are still rules.
In a nutshell, research is necessary; personal experience is not.


I don’t know what happened to that deluded young would-be writer; I do hope he absorbed and accepted what I told him – though I fear not, at least not now. Perhaps the writing-fairy lightning will strike him and he will have his beliefs validated – doubtful, but it does happen very very very rarely.


All I know is that we made a deposit on a great trip the other day and I’m already thinking about what to take and make sure my traveling computer is up to date and ready to go. Even though it’s early, I’ll start as soon as I finish the current project, which is set in ‘today’ and just down the street. No travel needed.

And… just in case you’re interested, all four volumes of my newest release – 50 BLOGS ON WRITING AND THE WRITING LIFE – are available at Amazon for just $.99 each!

Spring Has Sprung

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by Janis Patterson


I have never had any trouble being lazy, which is a difficult thing for a writer to overcome. Our careers – to say nothing of our incomes! – depend on us being self starters who have to be responsible for getting everything done when it is due.


And that’s hard to do at any time, let alone when warm weather has finally returned, and the song of the hot tub, or the pool, or the garden is heard in the land. Frankly, I much prefer being on the porch, a glass of iced tea beside me, watching the antics of doves, blue jays, cardinals and lots of little brown birds jockeying for supremacy at the bird feeder, and the squirrels hanging around at the bottom of the pole, hoping for some spillage. Sometimes a hawk will fly overhead and suddenly everyone disappears, either under the deck or into the leafy trees. Then, once the dark shadow is past, they’re back chowing down. There must be some sort of wildlife telegraph about sucker humans who put out free food, because every day there are more. I fully expect the next time I oversleep there will be a delegation knocking peremptorily at the patio door.


See? See how easy it is to wander off into current pleasure – especially when ‘current’ is so beautiful and enticing – when you should be concentrating on immediate deadlines. I have to finish one book, am halfway done on another, really need to do some research on a long-neglected non-fic history, format a special edition paperback for the goody bags at our SCV reunion in July and… I’m sure there are several other somethings, but can’t remember them at the moment. You see, the blue jays and the doves are having a ‘discussion’ about who is next at the feeder.


At least last week I presented my seminar on ‘The Secrets of Republishing Your Backlist’; it was tiring, but received quite well. I am still working on ‘Your Story – How to Write A Memoir’ that I’m giving at the end of the month in Arkansas. I think that’s all of them…


It’s so much more pleasant to sit and watch the Bird Wars, but that does not make a career. I really do have to be more disciplined. When I worked in a 9-5 job I would have fired an employee as easily distracted as I. Successful work depends on projects finished. Well, I do get my projects finished, but not in as timely a fashion as I might wish.
How do you get things done? Do you adhere to a strict by-the-hour schedule, or simply pants it, getting things done even if it means staying up all night, or something else? Let’s face it – no matter what system/systems we use, every once in a while an unkind Fate will dictate that for one reason or another we have to pull an all-nighter. Or two.


But we get it done. We’re writers, and we know what we have to do. Even when there are Bird Wars at the feeder, the temperature is perfect and the hot tub is calling seductively. We are writers.

Musing on the Moon and a Miracle

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by Janis Patterson

Today is Thursday. On Monday I experienced a miracle. A true miracle. I am fortunate enough to live in the path of totality of the Solar Eclipse. For several days thick clouds had been forecast (putting my husband into a fearsome temper – he had actually bought a special solar telescope for the event) and on Monday morning the sky was indeed thickly clouded. We had been invited to some friends’ house with an upper deck perfect for viewing; The Husband didn’t even want to go, saying it was a lost cause, but I insisted, so we did.


The whole group – about 10 people – was worried about the eclipse being invisible, but we went on and took our lunch up to the deck and had a lovely meal and good companionship and – Mirabile Dictu! – just about the time the event was supposed to start holes began to appear in the clouds. To make a long story short, we saw most of the eclipse. We did lose a little of the first part of it, but by about one-quarter of the first half there were only a few thin rags of clouds that really didn’t obscure the view. Seeing the dark circle that was the moon inexorably sliding across the face of the sun, nibbling away at the light, was incredible. Sometimes being seen through the thin scraps of cloud it was even more impressive.


The totality was perfectly visible – and perfectly magnificent. While it is both dangerous and extremely stupid to look at an eclipse without proper protective lenses (you can damage or lose your sight permanently), during the totality you can take a short – SHORT, like a couple of seconds – look because the visible corona is the gas, not the sun itself. Seeing that great dark circle, like a hole in the sky, surrounded by a sparkling halo of white is a sight like none other.
During the totality it is pure magic. The world darkens to a late evening hue, but it is not the same – there is a different quality to the light, an almost aqueous thickening unlike any moment in a regular day. One instantly thinks of fairyland or hidden realms – at least I did. The temperature drops perceptibly and there is a silence almost as if time itself has been suspended.


During the 2017 eclipse in Missouri we were set up in the parking lot of our hotel and there was a dog park for the guests. There were about a dozen dogs in residence and during the totality they went mad, barking and jumping and howling and almost knocking over the fence. I had always thought such a reaction was an old wives’ tale, but no – it happened. Perhaps the ‘old wives’ know a lot more than we give them credit for. There were no dogs where we were on Monday, so no chance of hearing any barking, but I did notice that there were no birds flying during the totality. Neither was there any wind, at least where we were, as if the entire world were caught in a gelatinous stasis.
The totality did not last long and the moon began a stately progression away from the face of the sun, inch by inch retreating and bringing back the light. Eclipse glasses went back on, movement resumed and the light became normal again.


I can see why primitive peoples went in such terror of eclipses. Even in our scientific era, when we know exactly why and how they happen and can predict its happening almost to the exact minute it is a wondrous and somewhat unnerving experience.


So what does all this have to do with writing? To be honest, not much. Oh, we can draw neat little moral aphorisms such as ‘expect a miracle’ or ‘never give up’ and they would be true, but really I just wanted to share the magic I felt. We can always use a little bit of magic, can’t we?