
A writer cannot convincingly describe a particular historical period without understanding its politics, customs and everyday life. [iStockphoto]
A few days ago, while attending Kakamega Book Club’s monthly book discussion, one of my mentees asked me an interesting question: "Professor, do creative writers really do research?" Without thinking, I answered in the affirmative.
Later, I realised that my answer had been too brief. I thought the question deserved much deeper reflection.
My mentee was giving voice to what many people silently believe whenever they read a novel, watch a play, or read a poem. They imagine that creative writers possess an inexhaustible imagination from which stories simply flow. They rarely think about the long and lonely journey that precedes it.
I think we have romanticised creativity for far too long. We celebrate inspiration but seldom acknowledge curiosity. In some cases, we admire imagination but overlook investigation. That is why we readily accept that scientists conduct research in laboratories, historians in archives and lawyers in libraries. The creative writer, we imagine, merely sits before a blank page and invents an entirely new world. We are wrong. Unfortunately, many young writers believe this crap.
This partly explains why so few enduring stories are emerging from many young writers today. They are eager to write before they have taken time to observe life. Some wish to publish before they have read deeply. The truth is that imagination alone will not compensate for a lack of knowledge. Never. Imagination without research is like a tree without roots. Not even Artificial Intelligence will help you cover this deficit of knowledge.
Permit me to draw from my own experience to illustrate this. Whenever I look back on the stories I have written, I realise that writing occupied only a fraction of the journey. The greater part was spent observing people, revisiting memories, reading widely, asking questions and trying to understand the world more deeply. Long before writing the first chapter of any story, the research had already begun. The published story is only the visible expression of months and sometimes years of invisible preparation.
When I was writing Shadows of Love, I found myself exploring the complexities of campus relationships. I researched beliefs in witchcraft, betrayal in love, narcissism and the realities of patriarchy and single motherhood. Each of these themes required more than imagination. They required listening to people, reading widely, revisiting experiences and understanding the emotional and cultural realities that shape human behaviour. What I mean is that the novelist's responsibility is not merely to entertain. No. The novelist has to be backed by knowledge to portray life convincingly.