by Elizabeth Holcombe Fedorko

One especially sultry day this past summer I found myself with my son, husband, and good friends at a Virginia Beach water park. For a span of forever, I studied the “Waterfall Drop,” a terrifying, two red-flag, expert swimmer, ten on the wedgie scale three seconds of fun. I reminded myself, as I do every day lately, that I’m writing a novel set in 16th century Scotland. And a research opportunity has neatly presented itself. So, up the concrete stair I climbed, away from my loved ones and common sense, watching children eagerly positioning themselves on top of the waterfall and plunging into chlorine oblivion. Then it was my turn.

I took a seat on the concrete, water sluicing all around my legs and under my nether regions, preparing myself. Now, I’m my heroine: frightened, being chased by the villain, and the hero says the only way to survive is to ride the waterfall with him. (Some hero.) I wear two stone (that’s 28 pounds to you Yanks) of wool and linen, no underwear, and no Esther Williams bathing suit bought at JC Penney. Releasing the handlebars, pretending they are moss-covered stones, I plunge down, grappling for my hero’s arms, free-falling, then splashing, shooting to the bottom of the pool like a finely-honed arrow. Disoriented, I have to open my eyes to see which end is up by watching bubbles all around me. My hero is also giving me a fine view of his bits and pieces as his kilt sways up his thighs in the bubbles. But I digress. I sputter to the surface captured by my hero’s arms as the villain, wearing a teal Speedo, blows his whistle and arcs a thumb to the side of the pool, telling me my turn is over.

OK, so you don’t have to risk drowning to do research. I have been writing since forever and research comes hand-in-hand with all writing, whether it’s historical, contemporary, or… Well, you know the rest. You write them, after all. When I sat down to write my first book, a tragically horrid science fiction, my research library consisted of a battered thesaurus from junior high school and a coverless collegiate dictionary.

Research comes from need. You’ll be writing along, guarding your precious writing time like a pit bull in heat, and lo and behold, you discover you need to know what Denmark’s one krone coin looks like. Mark you place with a note in your manuscript that you’ll research it later and keep on with your story.

Eventually, you’ll need to know about that coin. There are many ways to go at it. One is to ask any Danish friends you may know. Don’t have any? Give the Danish embassy a call. Now you know the one krone coin has a hole in the middle with crowns and decorations around it. It took you only a moment, and you’ve made a valuable contact with some great Danes that may come in handy if you decide to write that Viking book.

I once bent the ear of a re-enactor at the Claude Moore Historical Farm. I took notes and that made him talk even more. You’ve got to talk to people. Remember these re-enactors don’t wear those clothes in the middle of August because they can’t afford a sauna. They want to talk to you, especially if you’re a writer. Tell them so, with pride.

A lot of you like researching on the internet. You may pull up a site on 18th century British military uniforms with specific questions in mind. Some are answered, but not all. Write to the email address of the author of the site. I found a site written by Revolutionary War British re-enactors who travel all over the country losing, mostly, to Patriot re-enactors. I wrote to the email address provided with an introduction of me and my work. One gentleman kindly replied with a bibliography of sources I would have to travel to the UK to get. Remember to say thank-you—always! Keep that name in mind for future acknowledgements.

Go beyond books and articles, but get them too. Keep a file of pamphlets and articles on any topic you think could be remotely useful. Be somewhat organized. Your library will grow as fast as your children or grandchildren, and the next thing you know that New Yankee Workshop guy and his program on building bookshelves looks better than sex—almost.

So, when you’re thinking about your latest book, think about looking for research opportunities in all the odd places. You’ll have fun—believe me!

Now, where’s that water park receipt for my acccountant?