When Research and Plot Align by E. B. Davis

I was writing a short story to the theme of holidays, specifically Homicidal Holidays, one of SinC Chesapeake Chapter’s anthologies. The plot was formulated in my mind. Perhaps there was a bit of nostalgia in setting the story during the historical time of my college days, in the late seventies, in Washington, D. C., where I went to school. But another part of that decision was due to my intimate knowledge of the place and time.

 

During college, I experienced a mystical morning. I’d awoken early in my dorm room. It was snowing, and for some reason, I wanted to drive to Georgetown. Inexplicable. But as I was from Pennsylvania and had snow tires on my car, the weather wasn’t a deterrent, especially at the age of nineteen when there are no barriers. As I made my way down Wisconsin Avenue at the top of Georgetown, I realized that no cars had traveled before me. The street was serenely quiet. I pulled over into a rare parking spot that on no other occasion would have been available. I got out. No footsteps, car tracks, or even bird tracks marred the snow’s surface. No one opened a door or popped their head out of a window. I may be one of the few in the world who have ever beheld Georgetown unpopulated without human interference. Georgetown was mine.

 

Perhaps because of that experience, I decided that I wanted snow in my short story, and could think of no better holiday to illustrate the Washingtonian experience than Presidents’ Day. So, I began to research. It didn’t have to be authentic. But I asked myself, had there been any snowstorms in the late seventies over Presidents’ Day weekend? I found there was one in 1978, which was actually a year after I graduated, but no matter. The year was set.

 

I had already determined the murder would take place on the C & O Canal running parallel to the Potomac River in Georgetown. It was a secluded area with few businesses along it—a perfect place for a snowy evening murder. (And yes, the motive was revenge, and yes, it was cold.) My characters were much like myself at that age. From Pennsylvania having a car with snow tires and few deterrents. But what would draw my characters there, at night in the middle of a snowstorm?

 

During the seventies, there was a bar/band venue called The Cellar Door, on “M” Street, which also parallels the C & O Canal and Potomac River, close by to where my murder would occur— how convenient—the scene prior to the murder would be held there. I wondered, on the off chance, if a band was booked for that weekend. I researched The Cellar Door’s schedule. Yes—George Thorogood and the Delaware Destroyers played there on the Saturday before Presidents’ Day in 1978. The performance review said George dragged a long cord from the amp to his guitar, went out into the middle of “M” Street during the snowstorm and played in the deserted street. Knowing of George, I didn’t doubt the review’s claim. Had I but known, I would have been there, too!

 

The research and my plot aligned. I began to write.

 

Needless to say, my short story made it into the anthology, which was published in 2014. There have been a few times when the research I’ve done aligned and enhanced a plot. When it does, my writing is stronger. I have confidence in my story. That’s wonderful, like a story that needed to be told.

 

As a writer, have you experienced the beautiful marriage of research and plot?

The Turnip Story by Susan Van Kirk

 

I can hear you thinking, “Well, it was bound to happen. Living alone. She’s finally gone out of her pandemic mind. Round the bend. Writing about a turnip on Writers Who Kill. This is a blog for mystery writers. Oh, I suppose she could somehow poison someone with a turnip.”

 

Not out of my mind. Well, not more than usual.

 

On my weekly pandemic trip to the grocery store, after checking the parking lot for a sparsity of cars, I happened to buy a turnip in the produce section to use in a recipe. When I reached the checkout counter, the teenage boy who was checking my groceries held up the plastic bag with one turnip and asked, “What is this?”

 

“A turnip.”

 

I thought the conversation would end there. Having taught teenagers for years and raised my own through that harrowing period of life, I figured he would check out the produce number and move it on through. End of story.

 

But no.

 

He looked up and asked, “I suppose you eat these, but how? Do you cook them?”

 

I felt my heart kick up a few beats. A teenager with curiosity. “Actually, you cook them, but you can also eat them raw.”

 

He held up the bag once again and examined the lowly root vegetable. “Not sure I’ve seen one before.”

 

When you’re a former teacher, you never miss an opportunity. (Here, my children are groaning.)

 

“Actually, my grandfather always had a garden. I think it was a habit learned from living through two
world wars. When I was young, he’d always plant a few turnips because he knew I liked them. I’d help him in the garden, and we’d pull a turnip from the ground and wash it off with the garden hose. Then I’d eat it raw, sitting right there on the grass. Some days, he’d sit beside me, eat a turnip, and we’d talk. It’s one of my favorite memories.”

 

At this point, I expected him to grab another item and, bored, keep working. But no.

 

“That’s cool. I suppose these turnips are vegetables?”

 

“Oh, yes.”

 

“Interesting. Learned something new.”

 

I drove home, thinking about his curiosity. This kid has a  future.

 

As Connie Berry wrote recently on Writers Who Kill, research is essential when you’re a writer, especially a writer of mysteries. Motives, means and opportunities come from curiosity. The study of human behavior helps in the creation of characters and dialogue. Odd, often unusual details catch your attention and lead to questions whose answers you’d like to know. Like most writers, I end up researching far more ideas than I could ever fit in a book. One thought leads to another, which leads to another, and so on. I must stop myself or I’ll never get the book written.

 

In researching my mysteries, I’ve become intrigued about subjects I would never have known about had I not decided to become a writer. Poisons, mitochondrial DNA, 19^th-century houses, domestic violence, stab wounds, genealogy, the Underground Railroad, other periods of time, art centers, and arson. That is a tiny—a very tiny—sample of the many topics I’ve researched to add accurate details to my books.

 

I left the grocery store and, once home, discovered turnips provide anticancer and anti-inflammatory benefits, stabilize our blood sugar, and increase our fiber intake. They give us vitamin B6, folate, calcium, potassium, copper, and manganese. Turnips are believed to have originated in middle and Eastern Asia.

 

That poor kid at the grocery store. Wait until I go back next week and buy kohlrabi.

*photo above is of my grandparents and me circa 1952