The Iceberg Dictum with Research

For the past two weeks, I’ve posted about a novel on which I’ve worked for years. It’s now near completion. I need only to place a few telling details into scene and character descriptions. Those details will help readers visualize the setting, the clothing, the homes, and other aspects of life in first-century Palestine.

Many years ago I read a book on the craft of writing historical novels. The author insisted that writers do extensive research. Then, if they want to write riveting historical novels, they must use only about 10% of the research. That is, like an iceberg, only 10% should be obvious. From that statement, I understood that I had to steep myself in first-century CE history for the novel I was writing. Only then would it be authentic. BUT, if I used too much detail, I’d lose my readers.

Back in November 2006, having completed an early draft of the novel, I asked a friend of a friend to read it. Two weeks later, she called to tell me all the things she didn’t like about the story. Trying to find something that would help me salvage the book, I asked questions: What there anything good about the characters? No. Plot? No. Dialogue? No. Beginning? No. Ending? No.

Finally, I asked, “Was there anything you did like about the manuscript?”

She thought a long moment, then said, “Well, I could see you did a lot of research.”

She probably thought that statement made up somewhat for her harsh criticism. It didn’t because if a reader is aware of research, that research is intrusive. It sticks out. It’s not woven into the plot, the characters, the story. It becomes tedious.

Her criticisms were so subjective, based on her own bias, that they provided little help as I wrote the next draft. However, her final statement, did. The next day, I began to read through the manuscript, searching for extraneous detail. It was then I realized that in the draft I’d succumbed to the temptation to show off. By that I mean that perhaps I’d wanted readers to appreciate just how much I knew about first-century Palestine.

I spent nearly a month fine-tuning that draft, expunging details that were interesting, but not necessary to set the scene and provide the authenticity necessary. Then I put the novel aside because of a Meniere’s operation. It took eighteen months to recuperate from that.

By then—August 2008—I was working on another book. In 2014, I found myself thinking about the novel and even wrote a blog posting or two about it. I shared the first couple of paragraphs to see if they piqued any interest in my blog readers. They did, but once again, I had to put the novel aside because of health issues.

Now I’ve retrieved the novel from the computer’s innards. Lo and behold, I’ve discovered that in the intervening years I’ve forgotten what I once knew. I need additional research to round out the plot. The lesson is that in my frenzy to delete the extraneous, I nearly demolished the book!

Peace.

Postscript:

This past week, two bloggers completed Prayer Wasn’t Enough and wrote about it. If you have the time, inclination, and interest, please read Dr. Kathy McCoy’s review here. Her introduction to the review is delightful as she shares her early thoughts about becoming a nun.

Debra Fetterly, a fellow blogger from California who believes in breathing lightly, interviewed me via e-mail. You can find her eight perceptive questions and my responses here.

Iceberg photo from Wikipedia.