Embracing the Unknown: The Role of Research and Learning in Writing

Lately I have moved from writing to research. I am in the process of pitching my novel and using the waiting period between pitching and the inevitable edits to dive into a new story. I have a rough idea of what I want to write, including the prologue and opening scene, but I also have huge, gaping holes in my knowledge. This explains the huge stacks of books lining my desk and the hours I’ve spent learning everything from creation myths to Jungian psychology to black holes. I am diving down rabbit holes in search of my story.

The question is: will I use all of this knowledge or am I flinging myself into research as a means to procrastinate? It’s a valid question and one that used to bother me far more than it does now.

The answer is yes and no.

Yes, I am procrastinating in a way. I am weary of writing after wrapping up my novel while still working for clients. I could just as easily push myself to begin plotting my next book, but I know the end result would suffer for the lack of (I won’t say expertise because that is a laughable concept) familiarity with the core foundation of my story. It would also suffer from a bit of burnout from finishing up the previous book.

But the answer is also no. I need this basic knowledge to craft the story that’s living in my head. I don’t know what will be valuable yet, but I cling to Merlin’s advice in The Once and Future King by E.B. White:

“The best thing for being sad,” replied Merlin, beginning to puff and blow, “is to learn something. That’s the only thing that never fails. You may grow old and trembling in your anatomies, you may lie awake at night listening to the disorder of your veins, you may miss your only love, you may see the world about you devastated by evil lunatics, or know your honour trampled in the sewers of baser minds. There is only one thing for it then — to learn. Learn why the world wags and what wags it. That is the only thing which the mind can never exhaust, never alienate, never be tortured by, never fear or distrust, and never dream of regretting. Learning is the only thing for you. Look what a lot of things there are to learn.”

Like Merlin, this is the only advice I have to offer: keep learning.

The more I feed my imagination, the easier it is to make connections between my characters and their situations. Research always feeds ideas. I count on phenomenon that to fill in the holes that exist in my story sketch. I can’t plot my book now beyond the basics. Sure, I could start there and then go back and fill in the gaps, but the story would be worse off if I used that approach. By diving into main topics of research I’m able to absorb ideas and connections I wouldn’t know to look for if I simply researched specific questions.

When I started looking into creation myths, my goal was to learn how to create a believable backstory for my world. I hadn’t thought of world building as a function of Jungian psychology. I have Marie-Louise von Franz to thank for that. She has added depth to my world-building.

Each book I’ve chosen has led me to more questions and more sources. I’m taking copious notes (in Scrivener) and making connections I couldn’t have made before. My goal is to get through my extensive research reading list and use that to create a specific list of questions I can pose to subject matter experts. Once I have a better handle on my main subjects, I will begin to plot and write from a place of knowledge.

It’s a process. I know it is different for every writer. What works for me may not work for you. That’s okay. This is how I work best—from a strong foundation. I can’t “pants” my way through a novel. I need the structure of a plot. But more than that, I love the puzzle of moving scenes around and figuring out the logic propelling the story. I do this in the plotting phase. I adjust it as needed after I write. Sometimes the story takes me in an unexpected direction and I’m okay with that too. My plots are flexible to a certain degree. But my endings are nearly always set in stone. The path to get from the beginning to the end sometimes meanders off the path I’ve set, but it gets there in the end. Or it doesn’t and I have to adjust. Having a strong foundation in the subject helps me do that, whether I am writing a nonfiction book, a novel or a documentary script.

Embracing the unknown is my favorite way to create a story. It may feel like procrastination, and look like that to those around me, but I know it’s not. Not in the end. It is what gives my stories structure and logic. It’s what motivates my characters and keeps actions reasonable. It’s how I write.

How do you do it?