The Magical Unread Session

We used to meet at Barnes and Noble when Barnes and Noble used to close at 11 p.m. Now we meet at places that close at 10, because nothing closes at 11. Most places close at 9. This means that if there are a lot of people, like tonight, or if we are all writing long and amazing things because the group is in a state of communal flow, like tonight, sometimes the last writing session ends just about the time IHOP closes. Usually when this happens, we each choose one sentence to read aloud as a token of our writing, and it is not enough, but it has to be enough anyway, and everyone hopes that this situation will not be frequently repeated.

The unread session also has the unexpected effect of letting you write something that maybe you wouldn’t have written if you were hearing the voice in your head that is the voice of yourself reading out loud to the group, which is the voice I usually hear, and the voice I am hearing right now. I don’t know if we will read this session out loud, but we might, because that’s what we did last time: stand around outside and open our laptops and read.

Is this the right thing to do? It is terrible for everyone not to read and not to hear what people wrote. It is also terrible to write something embarrassing because you found you wouldn’t have to read it, and then to read it anyway. However, it is worse to skip a few of the most embarrassing sentences and then wonder forever if someone might have read them over your shoulder and now knows not only that about you but also that you weren’t willing to read them out loud. But the thing is, I am over this. I share nearly everything, and I am not embarrassed that there are things I choose not to share. It is not necessary for me to share the depths and range of every obsession explicitly, because what matters will always come out anyway, eventually. Fiction reveals everything, whether you want it to or not. I am okay with that now. I am willing to be revealed.

I have read my dreams here for years, and they reveal everything, too. What small particulars of my life reveal is nothing compared to what is revealed by the metaphors of my dreams. On the other hand, why write an essay about this if I’m over it? So, again, you see how everything is revealed. Even if I don’t read this, it will be revealed. Even if I do read this. Even if I never write again or see anyone here again, even if I die or disappear. All moments are saved, irrevocably, into the past. Victor Frankl says this with joy. I see it with joy, too: all moments are published. You have to try your best in each moment, and it is done, it is published, whether you want it to be or not; that is the magic of the physical, the tyranny and the miracle. It forces you to commit; it forces you to be done; it forces you to publish, what you have, the best you can, right now. That is the magic of the writing group, too. But the magic of the unread session is different, and I think it is a dangerous magic. It allows us to think we can hide ourselves, it allows us to believe in being unseen. It allows us to return to our pre-writing-group concept of ourselves, the writer who can perfect something, the writer who doesn’t have to reveal everything, and this is a lie, because everything is revealed unless you quit, unless you chicken out, and even then it is still revealed, but it is changed – what is revealed is what you became but didn’t want to be. So have faith. Keep going. Eat pancakes or don’t eat pancakes. Type anything. Write anything. Stay here. Stay present. Don’t care about the future. The future will take care of itself, will be published in its own time. Focus now on this moment as it writes itself, as it publishes itself; make it the best and truest it can be, because it will last, it will be revealed, for all time.

You Can Never Say Thank You

picture of birds on a wire

The first book I ever bought about how to be a writer was Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird. I still have it, and I just looked inside the title page: it is a first edition. So I was lucky, because really you probably don’t need any other book on writing, ever, except for that book. I am rereading it yet again, and it’s as though she’s right there, speaking only to me, telling me just what I need to know right now, just like all the other times I’ve read it.

So, if somebody writes a book like that, even if it is non-fiction, it’s natural to get this urge to say thank you. And what that looks like for me is writing hundreds of unfinished letters inside my head, and rehearsing what I’d say if I ever met the author, revising it over and over, to try to convey how much her book has meant to me. And believing that if I could just say thank you that I would feel relief from this terrible debt of gratitude and be able to accept the gift of her book and go on with my life.

But here’s the thing: I met Anne Lamott last spring, and I got to talk to her twice: once just passing by in the bookstore where she was teaching, and once after I’d waited in line for 45 minutes to get her book signed. (Not the first edition! Can you believe I couldn’t find it? More on this another day.) And both times, I tried to say thank you. I did say, “Thank you.” I said, “Your book changed my life.” I said, “I got your book when it first came out.” I said, “I’ve reread it many times, and it always makes a difference for me.” I said the right things the first time, but I still felt the need to say thank you. I said them again the second time, but I still felt the need to say thank you. She was gracious and kind both times, but Anne Lamott is wise, and I got the feeling that maybe she knew I was attempting something futile. I know I did the right thing to try, but I left feeling worse than ever, because there was no way I could convey, even to the author, my experience of her book and how much it has meant to me. There was no way I could make her experience what I experience when I read her book, no way to make her feel the love she transmitted to me through her words. She wrote it; she is herself. She can’t read it as me. She can’t feel what I felt and experience how she changed me. I hope you understand what I mean, because I can’t say it any more ways.

So, while I was sitting outside the bookstore, bombed out on having totally failed to repay the debt of gratitude I felt I still owed, I thought of the title of this piece, and I realized the reason you can never say thank you. In order to repay your debt, you need the person to experience what you experienced. That is impossible, so you are out of luck.

Except.

Except that they did experience what you experienced. They read something else, by someone else, and they experienced it. And then they wrote the thing that passed that experience on to you. And therefore, the only way that you can ever repay this debt is by writing something that passes it on to the next person.  And then maybe they will try to say thank you and fail. And you can never know if what you wrote succeeded, because even when people say thank you, they can never convey their experience, and you will never experience it back from your own work. You have to have faith that what you write could touch someone. You have to try. There is no guarantee. But you owe the debt already, so you must try. It is the only way you might ever get the chance to say thank you.

Keiko’s Gardening Tips

garden with tomatoes

How does gardening relate to writing?

I had a dream that I was in a workshop where we had to practice giving a presentation off the top of our heads. I chose gardening, even though I have not succeeded at that. Here is my presentation. I came up with the tips as I was talking.

“Have you wanted to grow a garden but you haven’t done it? Maybe you fenced off an area in your yard years ago, but that’s as far as you got? Or maybe all you have so far is the dirt that was there when you moved in? I was the same. But I’ve been watching my mom, who does have a garden. Here are three tips for how you can have one too.

1. Schedule specific times to work on it, including regular weekly hours AND a start date.

2. Don’t worry if things don’t turn out how you wanted. In fact, plant one vegetable you don’t like, on purpose, and then you will see that what comes out of your garden in any one season matters less than having a garden. (And you might be surprised – you might like that vegetable when you grow it yourself.)

3. Join a gardening group that meets regularly in order to get and give support, advice, and motivation to keep going.”

I considered and rejected: Give it enough water but not too much. Go organic. These may be important, but they are tips for people who are already gardening. My tips are for people who want to garden but aren’t yet doing it.

After I finished my presentation, I thought, “Hey, this would work for writing, too.”

Our “gardening” group meets on Tuesday nights. You are welcome to attend.

The Practice and Magic of Writing Every Day

I am not working at a job right now.  I accepted a retirement package from work and am taking this time (and money) to write.  I plan to return to work in about 6 months, and right now I write.

I have been writing since May 1. For me, every day, every morning is a new “in the beginning.”  With a cup of tea or coffee I sit at my desk and plan my day.  There are three themes to my plans: doing some kind of social event (otherwise I will start answering myself when I talk to me), some kind of social event for Bella, my German shepherd, because I don’t want her to go nuts either, and writing.

It’s 8 a.m. (or 7:30 a.m., if I really have my act together), and I write random thoughts.  Some of those thoughts become what I will write about.  I am writing a short story that has mutated into a long and longer story, so I figure out what I am going to do there, and I also spend some time writing about whatever comes into my head.

Regardless of whatever I write about, I usually remind myself in the first 10 minutes of my morning ritual how blessed I am to have the opportunity to do this.

Stephen King wrote that he writes 6 hours a day 6 days a week.  When I decided to dedicate myself to writing, I thought I would do that. On my first day, I lasted 15 minutes and decided some serious time management and writing restructuring would need to be done.  And, I have been restructuring my time and writing and restructuring my time and writing ever since.  In other words, doing whatever it takes to get myself in the chair and write ANYTHING.

Then something happened last Sunday. Two days ago.  Sunday was my day off from writing, but when walking Bella I had an idea.  I wrote for about an hour, and this idea became a story with a beginning, a middle, and an ending.  I spent some time on this story yesterday and today, while writing other things too, and this afternoon I declared it finished.

Finished.  Now, you may not like the story, I don’t know.  Here is what I want to say about it — it wrote itself.  I was the one who sat in the chair, but the story really just happened.

And I know that it would not have happened if I and not spent the last 2 months sitting down almost every morning and writing.

My New Writing Coach

hand receiving business card

I’m going to be my own writing coach. I will read my first draft of the story I’m working on, and I’ll say to myself, “Hey, Keiko, this is really good! Keep working on it!”

I will reply, “Really?”

“Yes!” I’ll say. I’ll be so enthusiastic I will convince myself. I will say, “Write a second draft. I want to see it.”

“Okay,” I’ll say. And I’ll send myself the next draft.

When I get it, I’ll call myself up right away. “Okay,” I’ll tell myself, “This is really starting to turn into something.”

“Thank you,” I’ll say. “But I don’t know where to go next. Do you think you could…?”

“Sure.” I’ll sound very encouraging. I will help myself learn to figure things out for myself. “What do you think is missing?” I’ll ask.

“Well,” I’ll say, “I think I need to know more about what the houses were like in San Francisco at the turn of the century. And how much they’re still like that today.” I’ll think for a minute. I won’t interrupt myself. “You know,” I’ll say, “I’d really like to have it set in a real house, one that’s actually there. I love it when people do that.”

“I’ve noticed that in your work, too,” I’ll say.

I will be impressed and flattered at first, but then I’ll sigh. “I never seem to manage to do the research.”

I know what it’s like to feel defeated like that. But I will have the solution. “You know,” I’ll tell myself, “research is just an excuse to read things you’re interested in.”

“I guess so.”

“Go to the library. Find some books.”

“Well…” I will hesitate. I won’t believe I deserve it.

“Go ahead. I want to see the third draft, the one with the details set.”

“All right,” I’ll say. And I’ll go to the library. I’ll write the third draft. I’ll send it to myself.

“I think you should send this to beta,” I’ll tell myself.

“I want to fix a few things still…” I’ll say.

“No, remember what Gayle said: Do beta on things that aren’t quite ready. Hey, I’m sure Ruth will love this one. And she’ll probably be able to help you even out the facts, like she did with ‘Willie Blake.’ And Anthony might know specifics of that neighborhood even, or the time period.”

“Well—”I’ll say.

“And Liza is a historian, and Betsy—”

“All right.”

“Are you typing the email?”

“Yes.”

I’ll stay on the phone with myself until I’ve sent it.

#

When I get the beta comments back, I’ll go over to my house and sit with myself to go over them. Or better yet, I’ll meet myself for coffee. I’ll help myself understand what the comments mean for my story. I’ll draw out of myself what the story wants to be. I’ll help myself excavate the fossil. I’ll buy myself another latte and make sure I leave with a plan for the next draft.

When I send myself the next draft, I’ll reply, “Submit this.” When I balk, I’ll tell myself to send it to the Flash Fiction Forum ladies. “That will be less scary,” I’ll say. I’ll agree. I’ll call myself up and stay on the phone with myself while I submit it.

#

I’ll go to the Forum. I’ll introduce myself to my writing friends. When it’s time for me to read, I’ll sit in the audience with my friends. When I get down off the stage, I’ll tell myself I did a great job. I’ll make sure I write down any comments the audience gives me so that I can see if they need to be incorporated, but I’ll tell myself to wait and not think about it yet. “Just enjoy the rest of the Forum,” I’ll say.

The next day, I will get together with myself and help myself do the final draft. We’ll choose the first place where I’ll submit it. I’ll stay with myself until I’ve mailed it off, and then I’ll take myself out for lunch.

Playing Dress-Up

What Makes for an “AWESOME” Description? 

As a second-grader, I was told: Dress up your writing. In other words, I should be more descriptive. My teachers equated “descriptive” with adjectives and adverbs. They told me not to merely write, “Once upon a time, there was a princess who lived in a castle.” They advised me to embellish my prose…

“Once upon a time, a long time ago, in a far distant land, beyond the undulating cobalt sea, there was a delicately beautiful princess with long flaxen curls, who resided blissfully in a majestic enchanted castle, surrounded by a deep glittering moat, in which ravenous, mossy-colored crocodiles swam.”

I got the picture. And it did wonders for expanding my vocabulary. But, really, do adjectives and adverbs suffice as good descriptors? I think we can all agree that GOOD adjectives and adverbs qualify, but that leads to more perplexing questions:

1)   What are “good” adjectives and adverbs?
2)   And are “good” adjectives and adverbs necessary and sufficient conditions for good descriptions?

Truth be told: I don’t know. That’s why I’m writing this blog article. I thought that maybe you’d like to join me for 2.5 pages of discovery: What makes for an AWESOME description?

When I was 3-years-old, I liked to play dress-up. My diminutive mother had a basketful of dresses that she’d retired, and I made ample use of them.  I’d layer dress over dress and top things off with a few colorful shawls and scarves. My philosophy was – and I vividly remember thinking it – the more the better, the prettier, the lovelier, the more enchanting. Snow White, step aside!

I actually looked more like a bag woman, and I’m sure that my parents had a good laugh while snapping pictures of me. But in those days, I thought I looked like a “delicately enchanting” princess with not-so-flaxen curls.

This brings me – some 42 years later – to the conclusion: Less is more (more or less). Sure, satire, comedy and farce can tolerate gratuitous adjectives and adverbs; but most prose should not be weighed down, bag-woman style.

Keiko told us that an illustrious writer (disputably: Arthur Quiller-Couch) once said: “In writing, you must kill your darlings.”

That means YOU might love words like “essentially” and “ameliorative,” and your elementary school teachers would have applauded your “utilization” of them. But I’m here to say (to myself, mostly): Grow up. Writing is not a jewelry exhibition, where your main goal is to show off your fancy-schmancy linguistic accessories.

That 14-letter nugget of an adverb? Yeah, I’m talking about your personal favorite… Kill it. Pick up your red pen and slash it, gash it, edit it out (or just press the delete button). Some words have personal significance, but they do nothing to impart a vision or emotion to your reader. Kill your darlings. (For more on this, please see Anthony Francis’s blog article here: http://writetotheend.com/author/anthony/)

Speaking of emotion: Description IS emotion.

I learned that recently when Mark Overby read his short story, “Morphine.” (To see Mark’s full story, please scroll all the way down.) I found “Morphine” haunting for two reasons: its subject matter and its descriptions. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was there – yes, there with the prostitute. I saw her scarred wrists and felt a desperate breath against my neck.

“What on earth made Mark’s piece so descriptive?” I asked myself on the way home from iHOP that night. What adjectives and adverbs had he used? I couldn’t remember. I knew there was something about bloodshot eyes…

He emailed me his 326-word story and I read it: 17 adjectives and adverbs. Seventeen total. That’s not a lot, but the piece is drenched in description. Why? How? Emotion. The story’s two characters are crammed into a tiny room that reverberates with their loneliness, loss, and pain.

There was nothing in Mark’s writing about “bloodshot eyes.” That was my contribution, and I didn’t even realize it until I read the piece on paper. Good descriptions work that way. They go beyond the physical to evoke readers’ emotions. When our emotions are flipped on, our associative faculties go into overdrive, and we enhance the writing with our own sensory experiences.

Good descriptions bring that out in us.

Clearly some words carry more emotion than others. Anyone who has studied another language knows that quite well. Vladimir Nobokov, the esteemed and arguably twisted author of “Lolita” refers to the Russian noun, “Toska.”

“No single word in English renders all the shades of toska. At its deepest and most painful, it is a sensation of great spiritual anguish, often without any specific cause. At less morbid levels it is a dull ache of the soul, a longing with nothing to long for, a sick pining, a vague restlessness, mental throes, yearning. In particular cases it may be the desire for somebody of something specific, nostalgia, love-sickness. At the lowest level it grades into ennui, boredom.”

In English, it often seems there is no “perfect” word to describe a person, situation, emotion, or thing. That’s when an elusive drumbeat of disguised repetition comes in handy. I refer again to Mark’s story, Morphine: His conservative sprinkling of adjectives and adverbs emit various hues of darkness: broken, bruised, withered, matted, bitter. The words aren’t strung together. They’re scattered, and you barely know they’re there… but you feel them.

Finally, let’s talk about metaphor and simile. What makes these two literary tools AWESOME descriptors versus only so-so? Again, I don’t know. But let me speculate…

“Eyes are (like) windows to the soul.”

Why is that cliché nevertheless such a descriptive and memorable metaphor/simile? Clearly, it contains a kernel of truth. Eyes indeed reveal a lot about how we feel inside. If they flicker, if they flinch or flutter, they become dead giveaways to the secrets of our psyches.

I stumbled upon another type of metaphor/simile with possibly more impact. I’m referring to those with built-in irony. A paradox. They make you think. They make you linger. Here are two examples:

“She took one last hard drag off her cigarette and exhaled a cloud of filth, the smoke encircling her head like a halo.” – Morphine

This description stuck with me because it contains a simile that is topped with a paradox. It’s like ice cream – with a rotten cherry on top! The filthy smoke from the broken prostitute nevertheless forms a halo above her head. To me, the description evokes feelings of sympathy, distress, disgust – and confused transcendence.

This metaphor from Barbara Kingsolver does the same:

“…a choir of seedlings arching their necks out of rotted tree stumps, sucking life out of death. I am the forest’s conscience, but remember, the forest eats itself and lives forever.” ― The Poisonwood Bible

Good descriptions embed themselves in our flesh with uncomfortable irony or newness, sometimes benevolent but often depraved. Good descriptions aren’t about words so much as emotion. They make us see, they make us smell, they make us hear, taste, and feel. But even more, they make us emote.

So, go on: Emote. Emote until Keiko calls “time.”

You can always go back and kill your darlings.

————————————————————————————————-

Morphine – by Mark Overby

She was my morphine, just someone to kill the pain, someone to keep me from killing myself. The smell of Marlboros filled the tiny room, my sleazy little sanctuary that I payed for by the hour, a place for me to confess my sins while creating new ones as quickly as I could. She took one last hard drag off her cigarette and exhaled a cloud of filth, the smoke encircling her head like a halo. She was beautiful and broken and she was all mine, mine to fall in love with, to hate, to cry with, to kiss and bite and caress. She was my goddess and my savior, my excuse to live another day. She was my morphine.

I watched her undress with a hunger that only loneliness brings. Her dark eyes stared into mine, looking for the soul that I had lost years ago. Her small mouth glistened with the residue of the previous shadow before me, one that needed to feel human again, if only for that brief moment. Now it was my turn. I was now the sin that needed confession, the scourge that wanted love, the shadow that no one saw, no one but her. My morphine.

Her outstretched hand beckoned for my touch, the scars of past lovers adorning her wrists as I placed my hand in hers. “Lie to me, please.” The desperation in her voice mirrored her situation. I love you, let me take away your pain. My words dripped into her like morphine.

I traced the tattoos along her bruised neck as she gasped in rehearsed ecstasy, my fingertips writing an oath of submission against her withered skin. The warmth of her body was bleeding away as she clung to me for comfort. I lied to her again and again as I ran my hands through her hair, matted with smoke and bitter memories. Together we are alone. Together we are none, together we are morphine.

How do you keep yourself writing?

OK, so I have a serious question for all of you writers. I don’t do well with “structure.” If I decide that I need to write every day starting at 11 a.m., I will literally never start writing at 11 a.m.. If I decide that I need to leave the house every day in order to write in a coffee shop, then chances are I won’t be able to write in coffee shops. And last week, when I committed to spending the week working on my story, to make a great push to get it to the next turning point… I literally couldn’t touch the story all week. My brain says, “Aaaahh! Crazy people* making unreasonable demands on my time for absolutely no good reason, must turn into a floppy blob on the couch!”

The positive side was that I wrote a million and a half blog posts, and I did tons of laundry, and I made tons of food. But … I didn’t write story at all. And if I ever want to reach The End, as one does, then I need to keep writing. Obviously that level of commitment was too much “structure” for me, where structure is defined as a box that I must fit within. I’m trying to learn to redefine “structure” to mean “useful tool that keeps me heading towards my goal” of writing a lot and reaching the next turning point in my story.

So help me out: What “tools” or “structures” do you use to keep yourself writing and making progress? Do you have any “tricks”? What gets your butt in the chair?

———

* Just for the record, the crazy people in this instance were me. Yes, even my own brain thinks I’m a crazy unreasonable person. Sigh.

Why Write to the End?

manuscript with "The End"

Often new members come to our writing group and ask for feedback on their as-yet-uncompleted novel. Or someone who’s been with us a while will get an idea for a story while at the group, write a few scenes of it during the writing sessions, and then ask everybody what we think. This seems perfectly reasonable on the surface, and is, I think, why many people start going to writing groups in the first place.

However, as a group we have learned that giving feedback on the actual writing is not helpful in these situations. What we invariably say to people is, “Have you gotten to The End yet? Have you finished the first draft?” And if the answer is no, then our feedback is “Keep going! Get to The End! When you get there, you’ll be able to answer your own question.”

There are quite a few variations on this advice. For example,

Writer: I’ve just realized I need Character X to be an insurance salesman instead of a knight, and the book needs to start off in Palm Springs two years earlier!
Group: Write yourself a note to that effect, pretend you already made all those changes and they are wonderful, and KEEP GOING! Get to The End!

Or

Writer: Do you think I should structure this story as a series of flashbacks, or would it make more sense to do it in chronological order?

Group: Finish the story however you can. When you reach The End, then you’ll be able to figure out what story you’re actually telling and whether it will work better told in flashbacks or chronologically. Don’t waste time deciding that now. Just KEEP GOING! Get to The End!

Or

Writer: Should I use first or third person? Past or present tense? I keep switching as I write.

Group: Use whatever gets the story out. Switch all you want – that’s easy to fix later. Anything that helps you get the story out is the right thing for that moment. KEEP GOING! Get to The End!

We’ve been together for quite a while (I started running the group in 2004, and some of our members have been with us since then), but we didn’t name our group for over seven years. Why did it take so long? I don’t know.  Maybe it had something to do with wanting the name to reflect our identity as a group. Why did we choose the name Write to the End? That’s easy:  It’s the advice we most often give each other. As soon as we thought of that name, we knew it was a good one for our group. And we’re also experiencing an unexpected benefit: It’s very satisfying and motivating for the name of our group to be a sort of rallying cry. When one of us is getting bogged down in a story, another of us can say, “It’s going to be okay. Just write to the end!” I think it has already made our group stronger and is probably helping our members with their writing projects.

Of course “Write to the End” has other meanings too, which as writers we appreciate and use. But its most useful meaning is to always prefer finishing what you start over worrying about what you’ve written, which I would encourage you to apply to your own writing. Remember, don’t fix it—finish it! Write to The End!

Creating Your Own Style Guide and Editing List

In this post, I’m passing along some thoughts about tools that work for me and might help some of you too—creating your own style guide and editing list.

Style Guide

One of the most well-known style guides is the Chicago Manual of Style. You can use the book or the online version to look up editorial conventions. For instance, if you are writing a fantasy story or novel and the characters have titles, you can use Chicago to see how and when the characters’ titles ought to be capitalized.

If I am working on book, I like to take this process one step further, and make my own style guide that lists the words that I’ve already looked up, and also specialized words that might not be covered by Chicago. I jot down words I’m not sure about as I go along. That way I can look them up later without having to remember what they are.

When I have my first draft, I go back through my manuscript and check to make sure everything on my style guide is consistent throughout the book. Search and replace is great for this, but I recommend that you check each instance instead of making a global change. Otherwise you might accidentally change part of a word. For example, if you want to change king to King, you wouldn’t want to end up with maKing or similar words in your manuscript.

Editing List

When I first started writing fiction I found that I used certain words in my first drafts that could usually come out. I made a list of them, and after I’ve written a new story or book, I search for these words and see if any can be removed. Some of the words on my list are really, very, so, and then, because I know from experience that I overuse them.

You might have different words on your list. Based on your own experience, you can create a list that fits your writing style and use it to check your work. I prefer to wait until I have a first draft before doing this because if I edit too soon I find it distracts me from writing.

If you give it a try, post a comment to let me know how this went for you. I’m also open to hearing how other people edit their work, so feel free to post your suggestions as well.

Doing Medical Research as an Author

I’m a technical writer, but I also write books for families who are coping with children’s medical issues (The Parents’ Guide to Clubfoot  and The Parents’ Guide to Hip Dysplasia).

If you’re a writer who is researching a medical topic, it’s important to find accurate, reliable sources of information. I often start with the National Institute of Health (NIH) website, which has very good health information for consumers. If I want more depth, I go to Pubmed.  Pubmed is the online U.S. Library of Medicine, which is geared toward medical professionals. Medline  is another good online resource associated with the NIH.

Anyone can visit websites like Pubmed and Medline to search the medical databases and read abstracts of medical journal articles. When I’m doing research, I cut and paste each abstract for the articles that I want to read into a Word document so that I have a list.

The problem that arises is that unless you subscribe to the medical journals, in many cases there’s a fee to get each complete article. This can get expensive pretty fast. When I was working on my first book, a friend in the medical field told me about community health libraries, and a whole new world opened up to me.

Community health libraries are wonderful resources. They have health and medical books and brochures about many health topics. The staff can help you find information that you might not discover on your own, and show you how to use medical databases. Even if the library is small, the staff typically has access to health resources at other locations

On top of all that, researching at community health libraries can save you money. Typically, they can get you full medical articles without charging you for access. If you want a printout to take home with you, there’s usually a small fee to cover the cost of making copies.

I recently visited the PlaneTree Health Information Center located inside the Cupertino Library, which is new to this location. I was doing research for a nonfiction book I’m going to be working on this summer. The staff was friendly and helpful. If you don’t live near the Cupertino Library and want to visit a community health library at a different location, ask your doctor’s office to recommend one.