One of the things I love most about writing is that I'm constantly learning. I've researched all kinds of random things, from how to pick a lock or crack a safe, to the date flashlights first came into use. For my historicals, I've researched World War Two, particularly the French Resistance, British war brides and D-Day. I want the facts I use to be as accurate as I can make them. The last thing I want is for a reader to fling my book across the room in disappointment because they come across something that doesn't ring true.
So, when I knew that bipolar disorder would run in my main character’s family in my current work-in-progress, I realized I needed to know a lot more about the condition.
I started my research on the Internet. It was great for facts and figures, but what I really wanted to know was what it was like to live with someone who is bipolar.
A friend of mine has a son with the disorder, but I was reluctant to ask questions. It seemed so personal and private. But I managed to screw up my courage and ask if she'd be willing to talk to me about her experience. I told her if she didn't want to talk, that would be fine; I didn't want to put any pressure on her.
To my surprise, she readily agreed. We met at a coffee shop and talked for a couple of hours. The things she told me not only helped inform my character and his motives, but also my understanding of mental illness in general. I really appreciate her candor. I can write with more confidence now. I only hope I can do the subject justice.
Here's snippet from my current work-in-progress. It’s book one of a time-travel romance series I call the Twice in a Lifetime series, and I’m called this book “I’ll Be Seeing You.” In this scene, my hero, Gabriel, remembers what it was like to have a mother suffering from bipolar disorder:
Ellen clapped her hands. “Isn’t this wonderful? It’ll be like having a picnic. Ooh, Gabriel, instead of eating here, why don’t we take the food to the park? It’s such a lovely spring day. The birds are singing, and the sun is shining. Let’s go, please?”
He chose his words carefully, not wanting to upset her. He was relieved she wasn’t having a relapse. She was just her usual eccentric self. But if they went to the park, he’d spend the whole time chasing her as she wandered about, examining insects, fallen leaves, the sunlight as it fell on the sidewalk, anything that caught her artistic eye. “I don’t really have time to go out. Would you mind terribly staying in this time?”
“Do I embarrass you that much, Gabriel?”
He wanted to deny it, but it wasn’t altogether untrue. He remembered times when her illness had overwhelmed her and she’d embarrassed him as a teenager. Like the time he forgot his lunch and she showed up at his school just before noon with a huge bag of food containing an entire loaf of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Even worse, she smelled bad. When in the grip of one of her manic episodes, she’d paint without stopping, sometimes going days without sleeping or bathing. The kids had teased him mercilessly. It wasn’t fair, he’d thought then. He was just a kid. She was supposed to look after him, not the other way around.
Anyway, I’m going to try to be less introverted and more willing to ask questions in the future. If you don’t ask, how will you ever get what you need?
To all the writers out there, happy researching!
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Research is one the most fun parts of what we do, isn't it? We learn so much! Like you, I'm reluctant to ask someone to talk about something that might be painful, but people can be so wonderfully sharing.
ReplyDeleteI absolutely agree, Liz. If someone doesn't want to talk, they'll let you know. But most people really like, or need, to talk about themselves, their jobs, or their situations.
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