The Importance of Good Research

A couple of nights ago The Other Half and I watched Olympus Has Fallen on Sky Store. The White House under attack, the President trapped in a bunker, and Gerard Butler doing his Gerard Butler thing; a good formula for en evening's entertainment.

However...

Rather than turning off my brain, enjoying the explosions and Gerard Butler's loveliness, I found myself raging at inaccuracies and giant, gaping plotholes. Since when does the secret service let foreign nationals into a crisis command centre, since when would they evacuate the White House and leave the President's son behind, since when would they evacuate the White House into the firing-line of an armed aircraft, since when did the US Air Force take so long to intercept a rogue aircraft that it was allowed to get over a population, never mind anywhere near the seat of US government, since when would the President and his family be driven by motorcade from Camp David in a blizzard? Are you kidding me? Even the most basic of research (even the most basic of logic) could have avoided such obvious errors and consequently kept my wrath in its box where it belongs.

This got me thinking: We're absorbing information all the time and it's so easy to find stuff online that an audience is potentially more informed than ever before. When writing non-fiction, they say you should do so for your lowest common denominator, in other words, your least informed viewer or reader. The opposite is perhaps true of fiction: Fact and accuracy will never annoy someone who doesn't know about the subject, but mistakes and errors are liable to annoy a person who knows a bit about it. This is a great demonstration of the importance of good research. Or at least, if research isn't possible, the application of logic. All fiction is essentially making it up as you go along, but to really engage your audience it has to make sense and it has to feel real.

Throne Room

A little bit of a story, scribbled down back in Janaury. I've been meant to upload it but the usual pressures of life made me forget about it. Until now. The short sentences and dubious grammar are intentional; I felt it put the reader into the character's head. I hope that it doesn't make for difficult reading.

* * *

Seated on her throne, Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. The indignity: Peeing with someone in the neighbouring cubicle! Why couldn't the interloper have taken the end stall, the one nearest the door, the shortest distance? 

          Elizabeth held her breath. She waited, her knickers around her ankles. Still and silent.

          The other woman finished. There was a rumble from the large, circular toilet paper dispenser, followed by various rustling sounds. A thump on the partition immediately accompanied by an exclamation (Ouch!) startled Elizabeth so that she almost made a sound. A close call. Finally, after more rustling, the clunk of the cistern and the rush of water tumbling into the bowl signalled the other woman's impending departure. The door lock clicked and rasped; metal on metal complaining at the movement. The door squealed a brief objection before banging loudly on the partition. Slender heels clicked, insect-like, on the tiles.

          In her own cubicle Elizabeth waited, expecting the squeak of the tap and the hiss of hot, aerated water. Perhaps there might be a soft thump of sickly soap pumped into the palm of a hand, or the blast of the hand dryer. Instead there was a creak and a heavy bang as the toilet door was pulled open and then swung shut.

          Elizabeth breathed and relaxed. How unpleasant. Her worst fears confirmed. She imagined the woman with untidy hair, clothes by George, a cheap knock-off handbag from eBay. And stiletto heels. In the day time. She didn't even wash her hands. The woman was no-better than a pigeon in the street, a snail in the garden, a house-spider that weaves unsightly webs in corners of rooms, unclean: Elizabeth had just shared her privacy with a person of low breeding. 

          She shuddered, physically shaking the unwelcome thoughts from her mind. She rustled around in her cubicle, arranging herself before emerging. Elizabeth paused in front of the full length mirror and examined herself with a critical eye. Her loose hair curled in a frame around sharp features. Her clothes were neat and tailored. She smoothed her pencil skirt over her hips anyway. She caught a flash of red from the soles of her grey, suede, Louboutin platforms and smiled. Quality assured. She tugged at the corners of her eyes. Wrinkles. The latest potion would be required to correct them. £50 for a minuscule tube but worth the price. She reached into her Valentino clutch for her Dior 'Devilish Pink' and swept it across Botox-inflated lips. She approved what she saw with a nod, stuck her nose in the air and left the toilet. The taps remained silent. The basins were dry.

"I'm so sorry to trouble you. I just don't like to go without washing my hands." 

          A tall, slender woman, dressed in a smart business suit with hair pulled into a tight bun, passed Elizabeth. A woman in a cleaner's coverall followed behind.

          "It's alright, love. I'd have been refilling the soap later anyway." The cleaner said.

          Insect heels clicked across the tiled floor as they entered the toilet.

          "I appreciate it anyway."

Goodreads

Stephen King, in his book On Writing tells us that reading is just as important as writing when it comes to developing your writing craft. He is often quoted: "If you don't have the time to read, you don't have the time, or the tools, to write." Thankfully, reading is something I have been doing in abundance this year.

As one often does around the turn of a year, on 31st December 2012 I set myself some goals, one of which was to read thirteen books (13 for 2013). I'd set a similar goal for 2012 and failed miserably. I think I reached around seven, most of which were finished in the early part of the year. In reading terms, the second half of the year was a waste. But back to the here and now. So far in 2013 I have read seventeen books. And some of these were big beasties, like A Song of Ice and Fire and The Sum of All Fears. I reached the coveted target of thirteen so early that come the 31st December 2013 I hope not only to have read at least twenty books, but to set a higher target again for 2014.

You may ask, "How do you keep track of your reading? How do you know exactly how many books you've read?" Goodreads!

I've been a member of Goodreads.com for a couple of years now. If you're like me, you'll be organised, like lists, like tracking your progress, and you'll love Goodreads. I can keep track my progress on whatever novel (or novels) I'm reading, keep a list of books I want to read, organise my books into categories, genre, or any other list I like, and Goodreads also has an annual reading challenge where you set the target. Mine says I'm "4 books (19%) ahead of schedule!". Goodreads even has a handy app for your tablet or smartphone, which makes tracking your progress very easy.

So if you're an avid reader, or even just read occasionally, check it out. You might like it. Goodreads.com.