A delightful conversation on Twitter yesterday on the terminology of early 19th century printer’s plates gave me the inspiration for this column. Writers are often encouraged to seek out Subject Matter Experts (SMEs) to ensure that the details of technical fields are accurate enough not to jar the knowledgeable reader (as well as simply being accurate for their own sake). Few novelists would consider writing a police procedural without some knowledge of what procedures police actually use. A science fiction story hinging on orbital mechanics should definitely be based on physics and not pure imagination. And woe betide you if you write a Regency romance and get the clothing badly wrong!
Unless you plan to write only on topics on which you have personal expert knowledge, chances are you’re going to make use of an SME at some point, either in person or by making use of information that has been provided publicly. (I’ll be talking about the personal angle here.) I’ve been on both sides of the equation in a variety of contexts, so here are a few tips that can help when planning for success.
The Economy of Information
Information may want to be free, but information-providers have the same constraints on their time, energy, and resources as a plumber, a surgeon, or a Starbucks barista. In short: the gathering, analysis, and explanation of data of any sort involves a commitment of time, often of significant amounts of money, and of mental energy, all of which are allocated by the SME based on their own personal needs. A successful SME interaction acknowledges this and gives the SME a motivation, not only to provide the specific information you want, but to continue to provide information to other interested people in the future. Very few writers have the ability to hire a researcher at market rates, so it’s important to be aware of what your SME will consider adequate compensation.
There are a lot of different information economies. In my day job (investigating manufacturing discrepancies), I rely heavily on data and explanations from SMEs in engineering, maintenance, biotech, computer systems, and so forth. While providing this information to me is part of their overall job, it isn’t a day-to-day measured “deliverable”. Complex questions may require them to interrupt other important work. So there is a balance between my right to expect their cooperation and my responsibility to see that their efforts are recognized.
Sometimes recognition is the only “payment” for information. I’ve spent a great deal of my life active in the Society for Creative Anachronism (SCA), a historic re-creation group where knowledge, expertise, and the willingness to share it are (in theory) repaid with fictive rank and status within the organization. It’s a far from perfect system, but it does create a formal context for saying “being an SME is something we value and reward.” On a more informal basis, a novelist might “pay” an SME with an acknowledgment in the front matter of the book (in addition to more informal thank-yous).
The darker side to these information economies is the tendency for generosity to provoke entitlement. Those who are not information providers often underestimate just how much work is involved. “It’s just a simple question—it would take you five minutes to write an answer.” But those five minutes don’t include the five years spent studying the subject, or the five hours spent verifying the details of that five minute answer. And perhaps even that five minutes is only one of a dozen five-minute questions, which adds up to an hour of the SME’s time. A requester who discounts the work involved in their answer may fail to provide proportionate recognition, undermining the SME’s willingness to cooperate in the future. I can’t count the number of times I’ve spent hours—even days—working on the answer to a research question, only to receive no response at all. Not a thank-you, not even confirmation that it was received and read. (And let’s not discuss the responses I’ve gotten when my answer to a research question was different from what the requester wanted it to be!)
Entitlement can come in the form of expecting an answer at all. Experts in a field may feel they’ve fulfilled any duty they have with publication or providing material on the web. If you cold-contact an SME, it’s a good idea to include an acknowledgment that they are not obligated to reply, even to refuse. Back in Olden Times before the internet, I felt that anyone who had taken the trouble to mail me a letter (an actual paper letter!) asking for help with a question deserved the courtesy of a reply. But as the ability to reach out with requests became easier, the number of questions increased to the point where I had to train myself not merely to say no, but to be comfortable with not having time to respond at all.
Brain-Dumps, Frameworks, and Reality-Checks
The amount and type of information you need is also going to affect the success of your SME interaction. Sometimes you know absolutely nothing about a topic and what you need is a complete brain-dump before you even know what questions to ask. Quite frankly, this is the point where you should start by reading a book. Or a Wikipedia article. Or something. Sure, you might luck out and be able to spend an entire day with someone who loves nothing better than to talk about their favorite subject at great length. Don’t count on it. Start by knowing something about your topic—after all, you must have had some reason to include it in your story in the first place. Maybe everything you think you know about it is wrong, but it’s a starting point.
More likely, you know at least a vague framework that you need to fill in with details and concepts. In my day job, when I went to an engineer and asked, “I need you to walk me through the equipment and process for distilling sterile water so I can identify the root cause of this failure and explain it in my report,” I started out with a basic knowledge of how distillation works and the related physics and chemistry. Similarly, when I asked my question yesterday about technical terms for printers’ plates, I started out with a vague idea of book-printing technology in the early 19th century. I knew enough to have roughed in a plot thread about someone absconding with the master printing plates for a book, knowing that they would be relatively heavy but not fragile. Then I did some key-word searches in Wikipedia to read up on the differences between engraving and etching and lithography. So my question was already narrowed down to “what would an educated non-specialist call an object that fits the logistical requirements of my plot?”
Sometimes the most helpful thing an SME can do is give you a “reality-check” on what you’ve already written. This will be helpful if it involves minor details that can be changed or corrected without triggering substantial revisions. It may be the only practical approach if your expert is helping with the overall “tone” of a topic that is easier to spot in an existing text. For The Mystic Marriage I had a friend who is a jeweler read the manuscript over to see if I’d bungled anything related to gemstones and jewelry. She caught a few details that were obvious to someone in the field (e.g., non-faceted stones are best displayed to advantage on a white background, not a dark one) but that I wouldn’t have thought to ask about in advance. Similarly, one of the protagonists in Mother of Souls is a second-generation immigrant and stands out as a different ethnicity than the society she’s living in. I’m going to be looking for some serious critiques from readers familiar with those experiences to let me know if I have the emotional “feel” right because my imagination alone won’t cut it.
[How] Do They…?
The thing that will contribute most to the success of your SME consultation, in addition to having a basic framework of understanding of your topic, is a willingness to accept the facts you're given and tailor your story to them, rather than the other way around. When answering questions about historic cultures, I always cringe when the question starts out, “How did culture X do activity Y?” Because all too often the essential first question has not been asked: Did culture X do activity Y?"
We can be blinded by the assumption that our own culture and experiences are universal. My favorite example of this is the costuming question, “What sort of underpants did medieval European women wear?” An interesting research topic, right? Look for examples in artwork, look for descriptions in inventories, look for mentions in medieval literature, maybe even find a surviving garment or two. But that first question has not properly been asked: Did medieval European women wear underpants? And when you dive deeply into the evidence and its interpretation, you discover that the answer is: “Despite several widely-distributed images of medieval European women naked except for a pair of underpants, women of this time and place did not normally wear underpants and, in fact, the wearing of underpants was used in art as a symbol of appropriation of male power and authority, and these images are actually evidence against the use of underpants by medieval European women.” [Cue an extended discussion in the comment thread here about this topic.]
In my day-job investigations, the question of “do we” always comes before the question of “how do we” or “what do we”. Do we have a written procedure for doing this task? Do we record this type of data? If I begin by asking “How do we keep track of this type of data?” I may already be developing invalid hypotheses if it turns out we don’t keep track of it in the first place.
There’s an even better reason for keeping your mind open when consulting experts (whether personally or via research): some of the most interesting plot twists come by serendipity. If you start with the idea, “I want to verify that this particular solution to my problem is correct” you may miss an alternate solution that works even better. In the original draft of The Mystic Marriage, I had a throwaway comment toward the end of the book about some nouveau-riche middle class family having made their money in railroads. One of my beta-readers pointed out that the date was decidedly early for railroad investment but that if I wanted transportation-related investments, then canals were all the rage. That one little change then inspired an entire major plotline in Mother of Souls about canal building, class conflict, magical weather interference and its effects on water supply, and a resulting key plot element involving flood-driven epidemics that will appear in the next book Floodtide. My original plot element simply required a new industrial revenue source, but if I’d stuck to my first idea (or not gotten feedback on that point at all), I would have missed out on that cascade of ideas.
Subject Matter Experts are an amazing resource for writers. They will save you time and effort. They can inspire entirely new directions of thought. At the very least, they can save you from making a complete ass of yourself in print. At the best, they may become so engaged in your work that they become a new source of reader contacts. But they should never, ever be taken for granted. In every interaction, prime the pump for the future—whether for your own benefit or someone else’s—by ensuring that your SME feels as well-rewarded for their efforts as you are!
Unless you plan to write only on topics on which you have personal expert knowledge, chances are you’re going to make use of an SME at some point, either in person or by making use of information that has been provided publicly. (I’ll be talking about the personal angle here.) I’ve been on both sides of the equation in a variety of contexts, so here are a few tips that can help when planning for success.
The Economy of Information
Information may want to be free, but information-providers have the same constraints on their time, energy, and resources as a plumber, a surgeon, or a Starbucks barista. In short: the gathering, analysis, and explanation of data of any sort involves a commitment of time, often of significant amounts of money, and of mental energy, all of which are allocated by the SME based on their own personal needs. A successful SME interaction acknowledges this and gives the SME a motivation, not only to provide the specific information you want, but to continue to provide information to other interested people in the future. Very few writers have the ability to hire a researcher at market rates, so it’s important to be aware of what your SME will consider adequate compensation.
There are a lot of different information economies. In my day job (investigating manufacturing discrepancies), I rely heavily on data and explanations from SMEs in engineering, maintenance, biotech, computer systems, and so forth. While providing this information to me is part of their overall job, it isn’t a day-to-day measured “deliverable”. Complex questions may require them to interrupt other important work. So there is a balance between my right to expect their cooperation and my responsibility to see that their efforts are recognized.
Sometimes recognition is the only “payment” for information. I’ve spent a great deal of my life active in the Society for Creative Anachronism (SCA), a historic re-creation group where knowledge, expertise, and the willingness to share it are (in theory) repaid with fictive rank and status within the organization. It’s a far from perfect system, but it does create a formal context for saying “being an SME is something we value and reward.” On a more informal basis, a novelist might “pay” an SME with an acknowledgment in the front matter of the book (in addition to more informal thank-yous).
The darker side to these information economies is the tendency for generosity to provoke entitlement. Those who are not information providers often underestimate just how much work is involved. “It’s just a simple question—it would take you five minutes to write an answer.” But those five minutes don’t include the five years spent studying the subject, or the five hours spent verifying the details of that five minute answer. And perhaps even that five minutes is only one of a dozen five-minute questions, which adds up to an hour of the SME’s time. A requester who discounts the work involved in their answer may fail to provide proportionate recognition, undermining the SME’s willingness to cooperate in the future. I can’t count the number of times I’ve spent hours—even days—working on the answer to a research question, only to receive no response at all. Not a thank-you, not even confirmation that it was received and read. (And let’s not discuss the responses I’ve gotten when my answer to a research question was different from what the requester wanted it to be!)
Entitlement can come in the form of expecting an answer at all. Experts in a field may feel they’ve fulfilled any duty they have with publication or providing material on the web. If you cold-contact an SME, it’s a good idea to include an acknowledgment that they are not obligated to reply, even to refuse. Back in Olden Times before the internet, I felt that anyone who had taken the trouble to mail me a letter (an actual paper letter!) asking for help with a question deserved the courtesy of a reply. But as the ability to reach out with requests became easier, the number of questions increased to the point where I had to train myself not merely to say no, but to be comfortable with not having time to respond at all.
Brain-Dumps, Frameworks, and Reality-Checks
The amount and type of information you need is also going to affect the success of your SME interaction. Sometimes you know absolutely nothing about a topic and what you need is a complete brain-dump before you even know what questions to ask. Quite frankly, this is the point where you should start by reading a book. Or a Wikipedia article. Or something. Sure, you might luck out and be able to spend an entire day with someone who loves nothing better than to talk about their favorite subject at great length. Don’t count on it. Start by knowing something about your topic—after all, you must have had some reason to include it in your story in the first place. Maybe everything you think you know about it is wrong, but it’s a starting point.
More likely, you know at least a vague framework that you need to fill in with details and concepts. In my day job, when I went to an engineer and asked, “I need you to walk me through the equipment and process for distilling sterile water so I can identify the root cause of this failure and explain it in my report,” I started out with a basic knowledge of how distillation works and the related physics and chemistry. Similarly, when I asked my question yesterday about technical terms for printers’ plates, I started out with a vague idea of book-printing technology in the early 19th century. I knew enough to have roughed in a plot thread about someone absconding with the master printing plates for a book, knowing that they would be relatively heavy but not fragile. Then I did some key-word searches in Wikipedia to read up on the differences between engraving and etching and lithography. So my question was already narrowed down to “what would an educated non-specialist call an object that fits the logistical requirements of my plot?”
Sometimes the most helpful thing an SME can do is give you a “reality-check” on what you’ve already written. This will be helpful if it involves minor details that can be changed or corrected without triggering substantial revisions. It may be the only practical approach if your expert is helping with the overall “tone” of a topic that is easier to spot in an existing text. For The Mystic Marriage I had a friend who is a jeweler read the manuscript over to see if I’d bungled anything related to gemstones and jewelry. She caught a few details that were obvious to someone in the field (e.g., non-faceted stones are best displayed to advantage on a white background, not a dark one) but that I wouldn’t have thought to ask about in advance. Similarly, one of the protagonists in Mother of Souls is a second-generation immigrant and stands out as a different ethnicity than the society she’s living in. I’m going to be looking for some serious critiques from readers familiar with those experiences to let me know if I have the emotional “feel” right because my imagination alone won’t cut it.
[How] Do They…?
The thing that will contribute most to the success of your SME consultation, in addition to having a basic framework of understanding of your topic, is a willingness to accept the facts you're given and tailor your story to them, rather than the other way around. When answering questions about historic cultures, I always cringe when the question starts out, “How did culture X do activity Y?” Because all too often the essential first question has not been asked: Did culture X do activity Y?"
We can be blinded by the assumption that our own culture and experiences are universal. My favorite example of this is the costuming question, “What sort of underpants did medieval European women wear?” An interesting research topic, right? Look for examples in artwork, look for descriptions in inventories, look for mentions in medieval literature, maybe even find a surviving garment or two. But that first question has not properly been asked: Did medieval European women wear underpants? And when you dive deeply into the evidence and its interpretation, you discover that the answer is: “Despite several widely-distributed images of medieval European women naked except for a pair of underpants, women of this time and place did not normally wear underpants and, in fact, the wearing of underpants was used in art as a symbol of appropriation of male power and authority, and these images are actually evidence against the use of underpants by medieval European women.” [Cue an extended discussion in the comment thread here about this topic.]
In my day-job investigations, the question of “do we” always comes before the question of “how do we” or “what do we”. Do we have a written procedure for doing this task? Do we record this type of data? If I begin by asking “How do we keep track of this type of data?” I may already be developing invalid hypotheses if it turns out we don’t keep track of it in the first place.
There’s an even better reason for keeping your mind open when consulting experts (whether personally or via research): some of the most interesting plot twists come by serendipity. If you start with the idea, “I want to verify that this particular solution to my problem is correct” you may miss an alternate solution that works even better. In the original draft of The Mystic Marriage, I had a throwaway comment toward the end of the book about some nouveau-riche middle class family having made their money in railroads. One of my beta-readers pointed out that the date was decidedly early for railroad investment but that if I wanted transportation-related investments, then canals were all the rage. That one little change then inspired an entire major plotline in Mother of Souls about canal building, class conflict, magical weather interference and its effects on water supply, and a resulting key plot element involving flood-driven epidemics that will appear in the next book Floodtide. My original plot element simply required a new industrial revenue source, but if I’d stuck to my first idea (or not gotten feedback on that point at all), I would have missed out on that cascade of ideas.
Subject Matter Experts are an amazing resource for writers. They will save you time and effort. They can inspire entirely new directions of thought. At the very least, they can save you from making a complete ass of yourself in print. At the best, they may become so engaged in your work that they become a new source of reader contacts. But they should never, ever be taken for granted. In every interaction, prime the pump for the future—whether for your own benefit or someone else’s—by ensuring that your SME feels as well-rewarded for their efforts as you are!
no subject
Date: 2015-06-04 09:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-06-05 08:33 am (UTC)