Street Life

Thank God, no.
Actually when I get back to do a third draft of my finished novel, I may hit you up for some info as it's set in Phoenix. New one is post apocalypse, and thus very hard to research. But I am from the hood, and don't think I'd have too much trouble writing something realistic about it. Never done that type of research as it's never really come up yet, and I don't think I'd have the luxury (at least right now) to take a different job, move, etc. just to write better about it. Maybe when I'm making a living writing I will have that sort of time.

SpookyWriter said:

Does anyone here do actual field research into characters and live/work close to where their characters might exist?

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Yes. I park in such a neighborhood and walk through it to and from work. So far there have been around 100 murders in this neighborhood this year. No one has ever bothered me or been any thing other than polite on my way to and from work. I use this neighborhood in my WIP where several residents end up as lunch.

um....I live on what you'd call the "Mean Streets" if by your definition would be drugs, murder, explosions, police raids, home invasions, shootings. etc. and have met and know made men, hustlers, dealers, murderers, etc. So field research isn't some far off place, its out the front door.

No need for research.

My research was done in 1983-5...on and off. I spent time on the streets during these years. Now...I volunteer at a local soup kitchen and I see all there. But I have learned much from my own past and I use it in my work.

They don't change much, Spook. Like I said, I volunteer in the soup kitchen...it's the same thing as being on the street. You see it all. You make friends with the people, etc.

SpookyWriter said:

Do you think poor people talk differently? Do they dream differently? Do poor-to-middle class people have a different perspective on life than rich people or is this another myth?

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I grew up dirt poor. My thinking was, this **** isn't for me. I knew this at a very young age. I did well in school. I have a good job and I make a decent amount of money. My thoughs were, if I don't apply myself, I'll be this way forever. I think a lot of poor people let themselves fall into the "victim" hangup and they don't try to get out.

My 2 cents.

Yes to both questions, except for the "on purpose" part. I have lived in the bad part(s) of town(s) because I am poor. Not really POOR, but neglectful of finances and personal possessions. I always work and have a bank account and stuff, but I'm just basically really lazy. Of course, some would say that's the definition of a poor person. I would disagree, but anyway--

If you ever want to get a great slice of skeezoid life a la mode, follow on tour with an underground rock band for a couple of weeks-- I mean the kind of band whose members beg for money at the door so they can buy beer. It's like a crash course in streetness. I recommend it highly if you are keen on learning about urban weirdness. Then when you return home that roof over your head and that pile of bills laying on the desk will seem all the more precious.

One thing I HAVE done deliberately was live the life of a homeless person off and on for a year or two. There were places I could have stayed, but I wanted to wander and beg and hustle and see what that whole thing was like. There was a guy who was only too happy to care for my pets for me, as long as I fixed him every so often, so that was a pretty cool deal. I was actually considering writing a short series about it and putting it on the "share your work" board. Which I'll prolly do once I have a bit more time. Like maybe tomorrow. And now... back to work!

Mmmm, no, it I went to poor neighborhoods to do research I'd probably end up with a first-hand account on street rape, so no thank you.

However, it would be an interesting idea, if I had the help of someone strong and well-versed in street fights.

Sounds to me like voyeurism. Sorry, but IMO.

I remember only too well going to college (poor family) & living in a Minneapolis neighborhood that at the time was the "most dangerous in the U.S." according to the FBI. I remember counting pennies to decide how much I could eat for the next 48 hours & whether I should take the bus or risk frostbite.

From a poor family, 350 miles away, I had nobody to fall back on. I couldn't simply go out slumming, & then expect I could run away when it got too icky.

I know drug addicts, gang members, & prostitutes -- a surprising number of them were also struggling to stay in college. People knew not to mess with me, not because I'm a baaad MF -- which, as it happens, I am -- but because I've got a lot of attitude when cornered. And, besides, they knew I'd help out, really help, when they were in a jam, like when I turned a kid into the cops (with his help) which got him away from a gang that probably would have killed him.

I know where to buy guns & drugs, & where the most popular rock houses are. You'd have to be blind & deaf not to learn.

Doing that to screw around & "research" is merely dilletantish & superficial. It's like getting assigned to the "green zone" for a week to "find out what combat is really like." Try asking a soldier -- better still, enlist.

I grew up rather poor, but lived in a tight knit family of 9, we helped each other, and most of us are living better than what we grew up, me and my sister are the only ones still working on it but we have no intention to stay this way forever, she is going to school and I am raising kids and writing, I know not a ticket, but we do work on it and we improve bit by bit by keeping debt out of our lives as much as possible which makes a difference.

I grew up in a small town so things are fairly safe, I think we've had one murder and it was a set of out of towners in fifty years. There is, however, a drug problem, and it's getting worse.

I couldn't do research such as that or I would wind up on the nightly news as the oblivious idiot who got herself killed. I tend to think the best of people until they prove me otherwise and even then I think it might just be a momentary flaw (except for the heinous things) but I do have an instinct about who would cause me trouble. Still I could see myself walking down the street, lost in the swirls of my own thoughts as I often do when I am walking. I might as well have VICTIM stamped on my clothes and tattooed on my forehead. Yep, that's me. So no, I wouldn't do that type of research because I know I would only get myself into trouble.

SpookyWriter said:

Has anyone here ever lived in a bad part of town on purpose to learn about life from the perspective of people who are less enchanted with life in America? Has anyone here ever travelled and spent time in another city just to learn and understand life in that particular environment?

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I haven’t lived in a bad part of town, but the city is big. Hitting ‘murder capital’ status a few years back discourages any research that may end my life. Somehow, I think it would hinder my future goals. I work downtown and periodically take the EL, which gives me some inkling on poverty. Being new to writing, my story reflects what I see and know in every day life.

I have never traveled to another city to learn and understand life in that particular environment.

Another rule around here is "Don't make direct eye contact." if you want to avoid a fight. So it's a mix of survival by sheer force of will and living by the seat of your pants. Improvise is very important around here.

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Correct. Never make eye contact when riding public transportation especially at night.

I think, for a woman, pretending to be destitute and walking around city streets at night (or even during the day) would be extraordinarily dangerous. So, no, uh-unh. Never.

Besides, my bedtime's 10:30, so goodnight!

Anthony Ravenscroft said:

Sounds to me like voyeurism..

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A quality of many brilliant writers.

Spooky -- I do this all the time. I travel to the settings of my work and spend time there. I walk the streets alone, I eat in the restuarants and diners, I drink at the taverns, I sit in parks....It's a natural "writerly" thing to do. My latest work is set on a particular island; I've gone there several times to "Hang out" and smell the smells, eat the food, and listen to the natural life of locals on the street. I find a place to stay that is suitable for the needs of my story, whether or not it is suitable for my personal tastes isn't relevant -- I'm working.

In my case, I write it off on my taxes.

Compile and write; you are on to something, and you will have the depth to present it in a way that rings true.

Just MHO.

bad

I spent most of my teen years poor, and roaming rough neighborhoods, around very rough people, inclduing a sizable element of criminals. From the time I was eighteen until I turned twenty-six, I almost lived in seedy bars, on the "mean streets," and got into all sorts of trouble. And adventures. I even worked as a bouncer in a strip club.

I've also done a few things that pale mean neighborhoods into nothngness. For the most part, I rather enjoyed the life. There just wasn't much of a future in it, and what money I made, which was sometimes sizable, got spent even faster than I could make it. I started working more legitimate jobs, which didn't pay worth a darn, got married to a good woman, and settled down. Smartest thing I ever did.

But I still like going to strange, seedy bars I've never been to before, and enjoy spending time with a rougher crowd than most are used to.

The biggest single difference between today and my youth is the number of people who are more than willing to start shooting. I saw several shootings in my youth, and I was involved in more than my share, but today it's much worse.

I've pretty much always carried a handgun, but a Colt Gold Cup looks like a popgun compared to some of the stuff on the streets today.

In all my wandering I've SEEN plenty of hard core stuff happen to others, but nothing really bad has ever happened to me. I mean-- I run out of gas, and a nice person stops and gives me a ride to the gas station. I get lost in the woods, run into a gang of fishermen, and they chivalrously give me a ride back to my car (50 miles). I stop in East St. Louis because it's like 115 degrees on the highway and I'm about to die of heat stroke, and as I'm languishing in the shade under a tree on someone's lawn, one of the guys dealing drugs on the corner buys me a pop.

I used to do a lot of hitchhiking back in the mid and late 1970s here in Colorado-- at the same time Ted Bundy was here killing young women who looked almost exactly like me. Nothing bad ever happened to me out of the hundreds of rides that I caught; the absolute worst thing that happened was that a drunk Mexican guy tried to grab my tit. I laughed, he laughed, and that was it. We got to where I was going and I thanked him and got out of the car. I've had guys pick me up who were drunk or stoned, but if I asked them to let me out of the car, they always did. I never even had to raise my voice to them.

I accidentally broke a bottle over this big biker guy's forehead in a concert brawl situation once. I felt terrible and went up to apologize to him; I had been aiming for the brick wall. He laughed and said, "Oh, that's ok!" and then his buddy gave him a ride to the hospital. After that he was a regular at my band's shows for years and would always come up and talk to me.

When I was in New York City after a night of bar hopping I walked back through Greenwich Village to the apartment where I was staying, or tried to-- I got lost and nearly walked through Washington Square by myself at 3 in the morning. A couple of guys stopped me and said, "Don't go in there." They asked me where I needed to go and I told them, and they walked me back. There were four giant Hell's Angels lying in the entryway of the apartment when I got there; it was a place to nod after shooting up, apparently. I stepped over them and went in. One of them woke up when I put the key in the lock, looked at me blearily, waved, and said, "Hey! How's it goin?"

This may be unusual, I realize. I never expect to be hurt, or to have anything bad happen to me, even if I'm in the midst of some kind of trouble like having a tire blow out or something.

The people who have always done the meanest things to me were those who I thought of as friends (before they did the mean stuff, that is).

From year 3-6 of my life we were dirt poor almost homeless except for my grandfather who helped my mother out. I grew up in the midwest in a relatively lower to middle class family. My stepdad worked hard and we were okay but we didn't have alot. I was in a gang in upstate new york when I lived with my father during the summers. I went through a period of homelessness in my late teens. My life turned around in my mid 20's and THEN...somewhere about 33 my ex and I hit it big and I was a multi-millionaire...no really folks.

I have been from rags to riches and somewhere in between. I think a writer should draw from what life hands them but I don't believe we should sit on a bench and watch others...it is too easy to judge. If you have never been homeless...trust me..you can't pretend to be and then go home at night and claim to understand it.

Observe...talk to people but for crying out loud don't put yourself in danger for the sake of a WIP. That is a dangerous romantic notion that could get you killed. In my opinion if you can't do research *as in interviewing* and if you have no empathy and no creativity..chances are..you aren't much of a writer anyway.

Just an opinion from someone who has been around the block a time or two and thinks it is the height of snobbery and foolishness to think that you can pretend to be anything and really understand it.

tnx Casi for understanding what I'm trying to say.

Until your life has actually been on the ragged edge, you're a tourist. Nothing more.

I remember digging in the sofa for pennies because my son'd become allergic to his mother's breastmilk, & I needed one more can of Enfamil ($6.99) until payday. I drove five miles on the last of the gas, in a blizzard, at midnight, to get it.

There's no way you can understand.

If you haven't been there, you cannot even empathise with the fear, the self-loathing, the depression.

Sure, go & experience, & maybe write something to show the ugliness. But don't pretend you know.

Go hang out at a place like Hard Times (Minneapolis) every night for a month, like February, from midnight to sunrise. Shell out for a few $4.95 meals & you'll get more stories than you need. Anyone who's serious can ask & I'll tell you who to talk to first, & even what to order. When I started making $35,000/year, I kept going, from loyalty to those who'd stood beside me.

These accounts are amazing and incredible, and bring home to me what a sheltered, privileged life I've had (we wouldn't have been well off growing up, but we always had enough of what we needed). You're all amazingly strong people, and I take my hat off to you.

I write by observation and research. This whole idea of you must walk a mile in your character's moccasins is, well, I believe overkill.

Should I become a rich man to write about that side of life?

Should I become an old man to write about them with authority?

What about a teen? Do I try to pass myself off as a teen to write about them?

A solder? A tinker? A baker? A spy?

Now if I was writing a non-fiction journalism-style feature on the homeless or poor, then yes, I could see how direct contact, interviews, and associating with them would be very useful.

I write fiction and think my observations and imagination are enough.