In my “Writing That Novel” classes at the University of Akron I talk about the importance of doing research. A lot of beginning writers think they can get away without it, I say, that their stories are just so good they don’t need any of those bothersome little details. Wrong, I say.

I tell them that research not only makes a story better – a lot better – but that writers have a moral responsibility to accurately portray life in whatever time and setting they are writing about.

I try to convince them that research is not only easy but fun. I tell them they can get books from the library. Google the Internet. Take road trips to see things first-hand. Conduct interviews with people who know what they’re talking about.

I also tell them that two of the best research sources a writer has is his own noodle and his own heart. Here’s what I mean:

Last week I was finishing up a chapter that takes place in 1909. I had a final scene to write. It was one of those all-important “plot twist” scenes that sends the story in an unexpected direction. The kind where the reader thinks to himself, “Oh, I know where this is going” and then, “Oh, my, I wasn’t expecting that!”

I decided to set the scene in an amusement park. The novel is set in Cleveland so I had a number of turn-of-the-century parks to choose from: Euclid Beach, Puritas Springs, Forest City, White City, Luna Park.

Euclid Beach would have been the easy choice. But I chose Luna Park. I simply liked the name.

So I went online to The Encyclopedia of Cleveland History. I searched other sites, too. I got a book from the library called Cleveland Amusement Park Memories. It had lots of good stuff and lots of old photos.

But just knowing what Luna Park looked like, or what rides it had, or what tickets cost (5 cents), well, that wasn’t enough. I wanted to catch the emotion of the place. The flavor. The zeitgeist. I wasn’t around in 1909. Luna Park was history long before I came along. But I have been to amusement parks.

You see, that’s where your brain and your heart come in. You can research your own memories. Your own emotions. Transport them through time and space to another time and place. In this case, Luna Park, 1909.

The amusement park of my youth was Chippewa Lake Park in southern Medina County. It was already going strong in 1909. It was open until the late 1970s.

We used to go there on Nickel Day. When all the rides were just five cents each, instead of the usual quarter. You could ride the roller coaster twenty or thirty times if you wanted. And we wanted. You could stagger through the fun house all you wanted. Bang around on the dodg’ems until your brains were loose.

I thought about what the place looked like. Smelled like. Sounded like. How I felt when I was there. How I felt when it was time to go home.

I wrote my scene.

Another thing I tell my students about research is that a little goes a long way. A writer shouldn’t cross ever i and dot every t, as they say. He should leave plenty of white space for readers to fill in with their memories. I read somewhere once that a wise writer writes half the book and lets the reader write the other half. And I think that’s good advice.

So, I wrote my Luna Park scene and I think it came out pretty well. I’ll probably cut the bejeebers out of it when I do the rewrite, but for now, it’s perfect.

NOTE ONE: Sorry I got this posting up so late this morning. Like the rest of you, I was watching the OJ coverage last night and didn’t get to it.

NOTE TWO: Next week I’m going to report to you on my weekend trip to Paris, Illinois, for the big Midwest Brick Collectors’ Meet. My father-in-law collects paving bricks. And my wife says we’re going along. Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!