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Daniel I Russell - Writer of Horror Fiction

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Tuesday, August 19, 2014

The quicksandy sucking bog of research (how much is too much?)

Write what you know! That's what they say, and that's what I usually do.

Characters in my novels have often had old jobs I've had to endure myself, be it the newbie writer Donald Patterson in Samhane, physics teacher rank Harper in The Collector Book 1: Mana Leak and legal-type Guy from the extremely long at still not even halfway through at 60k words novel, Tainted Nature.

It takes the sting out of research. The level of detailed is there and yet I'm free to just write, write, write and let it flow. Even in my new interlinked fantasy worlds, set a little bit towards medieval times, research is required, but the beauty of it is the originality. It's my world, I can create most details from scratch, such as currency, religion, history, etc. A good personal example of this was in short story Nobody Messes With Venus, published in the Andromeda Spaceways Inflight Magazine Birthday issue. A (maybe) post-apocalyptic bizarre world? That's definitely a clean slate to work on.

However, the current project, the novella in a month one, is my homage to the 80s. Now I was born in 1980, so was there for most of it, however, we're talking a very long time ago, and for the start, I was a baby. Forgive me if I wasn't up to date on the latest hits.
There's things I can remember that I've thrown in, and had lots of fun doing so. Children's parties, with mums fussing over the tape deck. The toy obsession - no iPhones here, just plastic action figures with authentic Kung Fu action. There's VHS. Perms. Dare I say it, people going to clubs in dungarees looking like a rejected member of Bananarama. It's that 80s.
Yet I find my character watching the news. Who read the news on December 21st 1987? Google it! Her son looks out of the window. What was the weather like?
One of my biggest writing disappointments of late was my novelette, God May Pity All Weak Hearts. The story was written after an invite to appear in Joe Mynhardt's book For The Night is Dark.
The story emerged exactly as I wanted it, despite writing in a more classical, diary based style from the turn of the 20th century. I was, and still am, very proud of it.
I just wish it had done a little better for itself, garnering more mention in reviews for the book or even a short story award nod. That's sounds awful and shallow, doesn't it? Hear me out though, it wasn't for myself that I wanted those things but for the story itself.
It had been a hard birth. Never have I researched to such a level. As the protagonist was a real person, I went so far as to find actual letters he'd written just to capture an authentic voice. History was delved, notes taken. Street maps from the Victorian age looked up. It felt like giving your kid the best education money could buy and then having him finish middle of the class.
If you fancy a look yourself, I'll post the link at the end, artwork by the incomparable Greg Chapman.
I noticed I was falling into the same trap with this novella, too much time researching the intimate tiny details and not enough words hitting the page. So I decided to call it off. No more research unless it was crucial to the movement of the plot. The Government cover up of child abuse cases? Important. The price of a pack of cigarettes? Not important.
You know, I've hit my word count targets these last few days too.
How do you handle research? Not enough, too much or make it all up anyway?
Current condition: Optimistic.
Word count: 9K.
Opinion of book quality: Light on horror but ante is about to be well and truly upped.

Amazon US 99c!: http://www.amazon.com/God-May-Pity-Weak-Hearts-ebook/dp/B00J0SDH4E/ref=sr_1_11?ie=UTF8&qid=1408403326&sr=8-11&keywords=daniel+i+Russell

Amazon UK 77p!: http://www.amazon.co.uk/God-May-Pity-Weak-Hearts-ebook/dp/B00J0SDH4E/ref=sr_1_19?ie=UTF8&qid=1408403441&sr=8-19&keywords=daniel+i+Russell

From Australian Shadow Award finalist Daniel I. Russell comes a tale of pure love and darkest night.

July 15th, 1905.

A reserved doctor travels by carriage to his newest abode, 39 Hilldrop Crescent, just off Camden Road. A dark house, a quiet house. Too much room for the doctor and his music hall entertainer wife, Cora.

What follows is one of history's most notorious murder cases.

Posted by Daniel I. Russell :: 7:12 am :: 0 comments

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