“Research is formalized curiosity. It is poking and prying with a purpose.”1 —Zora Neale Hurston
One of the greatest gifts (aside from life itself) I received from my parents was the gift of curiosity. Two trained journalists by trade, they lived out their curiosity by exploring all kinds of topics. I stood at their side as they asked questions of anyone, anywhere: neighbors, waitresses, nurses, Depression glass experts in Chicago, farmers at the feed store.
Research as Relationship Building
Dad was a “gentleman farmer,” as he called himself, meaning, he had a full-time job as an editor at our major metropolitan newspaper and tended a small herd of beef cattle on the farm where I grew up (he leased the fields to real farmers).
His research involved clipping articles from Farm Journal, talking with experts at the Purdue Extension service over at the 4-H fairgrounds, and chatting for hours with farmer Bob down the road about tractor repair, weather, crops, hay, and the best electric fence wire to keep the cows contained.
Mom would contact and interview people for articles—complete strangers—on whatever event or topic she needed to know about. Editor of a county paper, Mom wouldn’t hesitate to pick up the phone and dial the sheriff’s department or the bank president to inquire about a complaint someone phoned in with or something she noticed on her drive home.
She also wrote the weekly arts and antiques column for the main Sunday paper. People would send in photographs of their item, wondering what it was and if it was worth anything. This was long before Antiques Roadshow or the Internet, so she would pore over books from the library and any other information she could dig up there, often phoning experts all around the world, from historians at the Smithsonian to Depression glass experts in Chicago.
She herself grew as curious as the person who submitted their question, but she liked getting paid for it, so she called it research and wrote about her findings. She sought answers to questions and showed no fear in reaching out for answers. She lived out Zora Neale Hurston’s belief: “Research is formalized curiosity. It is poking and prying with a purpose.”2
Growing Up a Researcher
With those role models, I grew up curious in my own way. Mom encouraged my interest in nature, helped me collect tadpoles from a pond on the farm—including extra pond water that would have the nutrients and environment to replenish the old glass tank I set up on the picnic table in the back yard. She wanted me to see the tadpoles sprout legs and grow into full-fledged frogs. Maybe she was a little curious, too, and we both watched with interest in our homegrown research lab.
A few years later, she granted permission for me to collect crickets and house them in that same old aquarium in my bedroom; it no longer held water but could contain land critters. To keep the noisy collection alive, I read from a library book about the care and keeping of crickets. The library had books that could satisfy my curiosity about almost anything that piqued my interest. I was curious about cooking and crocheting, yo-yo’s and yoga. The library became the perfect place for budding writers like myself to conduct research.
In time, I left behind the crickets and tadpoles (released to their original habitats) but carried those research skills into adulthood. I understood how librarians could track down information in ways I couldn’t (and their research skills and tools exceeded mine). I interviewed people for freelance articles, learning that people enjoy answering questions related to their area of expertise.
When the Internet opened up loads more ways to hunt and gather information, Mom and I both continued to follow our interests, “formalizing our curiosity” by labeling it “research.” Whatever we wondered about, we could dive in and search for answers. We used it for our writing projects, as well, because Mom continued to write freelance articles for years.
We ran into dead ends sometimes, but we could tap those original research skills like scouring the library or conducting interviews. We didn’t hesitate tracking down a phone number to speak with someone who might have the answers we sought.
Research options and tools keep evolving. LLMs (Large Language Models, like ChatGPT) and chatbots give us new ways to start our searches (always verify, as they continue to hallucinate). And research needs for different projects often dramatically differ.
Standing Out in the Age of AI: The Power of Human-Driven Research
In the end, though, curiosity can drive our research. Asking what we (and our reader) want or need to know can get us to the next piece of information or example we need for our project:
- Now that I’ve introduced the reader to the medicinal nature of honey, what would they want next? An example of how it was successfully used to treat something? Where would I find that?
- When the reader learns where the heist took place, will they first want to know how the thieves escaped or the value of what they stole? Should I phone an art dealer or an historian for that information, or the police?
- What type of permit is needed to alter structures of historic significance before renovating? What happens if the permit isn’t acquired but the organization starts renovation anyway?
- Would the reader care most about the effectiveness of lightning rods or the history of lightning rods? What stories of lightning rods working or failing would engage the reader most and should those launch the piece or follow the history?
As I put together a project, following my curiosity by putting myself in the shoes of my ideal reader, I find it deeply rewarding to find the information I need and present it in the order that will lead readers from start to finish. And heaven knows I love any excuse to hang out at the library, dipping into studies and stories to find what I need.
Even for this very piece I’m writing for you, I had to track down the source for the Zora Neale Hurston quote. When I finally found it, you’d think I’d turned up a gold nugget in a stream of stones. I sighed with satisfaction, for sure, and I might have stood up and danced a little jig.
Finding Fresh Sources
You don’t need to rely on the same old information everyone else is getting through ChatGPT or Internet searches. Poke and pry to track down trustworthy answers available through emailing an expert. Quote from recent studies, personal interviews, and original materials like correspondence or diaries. Follow your curiosity.
Even for a blog post or freelance article, you can dive and dig into unexpected sources as you research. Your work will stand out in the age of AI, because LLMs are limited to the input on which they trained.
We curious writers can access sources they don’t know about and write real stuff, not auto-generated content pulling from the same-o sources as everyone else. Unlike machine writing, you’ll drop in nonstandard but striking examples. And you’ll be proud of your original research, even if it took a little extra time to document.
At any age, on any topic, whether at the library or through direct interaction with experts, curiosity leads us to explore and present ideas supported by human-driven research that can enrich whatever it is we want to know more about and share with others, for our writing and our life.
Further Reading
- Why Writers Get Lost in Research (And How to Find Your Way Back)
- Save Time and Headaches: Create Citations as You Write
- The Case for Citation
- Cultivate Curiosity for Your Best Writing Life, Pillar One
- Dip into Your Story Hatchery Where Memories Transform into Narratives (tadpole story)
Footnote
- Zora Neale Hurston, Dust Tracks on a Road (New York: HarperPerennial / Modern Classics, 1996), 143
- Ibid.
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