Last Saturday I was sitting in a bar ordering a beer, because I was doing research. And as long as I needed to do the research, I had a nice little IPA, the kind of beer I really like these days. The bar was called Mule Camp Tavern, and my research went on for a while, so I had a second beer.
This research took place in Gainesville, Georgia, about an hour from where I live. In the early days of the town, it was named Mule Camp Springs, and thus the name of the bar. I was passing through the town with my brother, who is always up for glass or two of research, so he offered to drink a couple while I made notes and walked around the bar to see what it looked like. To the left of the bar was a room with green walls and three pool tables, which had red felt surfaces.
I was thinking about whether to use this bar in the new novel I’m working on, so I had to visit to decide whether it would work for me, and if so, I needed to make notes. I believe I will indeed use that bar, so if it can stay in business until this book is published 80 or 90 years from now, this should boost their sales.
For the last few months as I’ve worked on the novel Moonapple Pie, I’ve mostly been expanding the outline, adding details, trying to see that the plot will flow smoothly from beginning to end, and thinking about whether dramatic tension is maintained. I’m trying to do that. I would not confidently declare that I am achieving that goal, but I’ve put months into thinking about it before seriously beginning to write.
Gainesville is my home town, where I was born, got baptized, joined the Boy Scouts, and graduated high school. I also did some other things that were waaay more fun, but which a baptized Boy Scout does not talk about. When I was very young, however, we didn’t live there, but moved back to the town when I was ten, and after high school graduation I left (like a bat out of hell, I have to admit). So I lived there about eight years.
No matter how profound those youthful years were, I only had eight years of my long life in Gainesville. Since then, the town has become 40% Hispanic, gained some very good restaurants, and has its own local brewery. Not at all the same town where I helped my grandfather deliver a pickup truck full of corn to the farmer’s market. When I write Moonapple Pie, I want to give a sense of the town as it is in 2018 (when the novel will take place).
For every book I write, trying to capture a feeling for the setting is extremely important for me. The place is always a part of the book, not just background. Our Boy Scout cabin in the woods is long gone, and the church where I was baptized now has a sign out front in Spanish. On the lively square downtown, you can sit at tables outside, look at the trees that surround the space, and drink very good beer.
After working so much on my outline, I feel like I’ve done all I can with it, and the pondering has to move into scribbling. Of course some research will continue. I still need to visit Gainesville to check some things out, like deciding where one of my characters will have her farm, or I want to visit the arts center to see how how they offer classes, and I’m thinking about whether to attend part of a herbal medicine conference that will happen in the mountains in October.
Still, I am more than ready to write, I can feel the words in my blood, wanting to get out. So soon I’ll be in that zone of watching reality appear on the page. In the meantime, next week I’m going with my girlfriend on vacation to Miami, where I’ve never been, and where I hear they have pink and turquoise buildings and plenty of Cuban food. I’ve also found an interesting looking Peruvian restaurant down there, selling Peruvian beer. One of those beers looks quite good, and I think I have to go try it. That will not be research.