Thread: Story Takes Place in New York - I've never been there!

My novel has a majority of the plot taking place in new york city in the 1920-40s, the thing is I've never been to New York and I'm not sure how to go about researching it. It has to do with my character being involved in a gang, and I'm assuming I'm going to have too know the streets and the corners and at least the main streets of the city.

What would be the best way to go about researching the streets of new york? I could propose a trip there, but its definetly unsafe to be wondering around the streets

I would definetly try and take a trip there in the heart of the city, but what am I do about the more unsafe areas where my story takes place? Maps Maybe?

Google Maps -- Street View.

Every inch of New York City is documented. Chances are some of it has changed since the 20s, but that should be a start.

Originally Posted by Vaxil

My novel has a majority of the plot taking place in new york city in the 1920-40s, the thing is I've never been to New York and I'm not sure how to go about researching it. It has to do with my character being involved in a gang, and I'm assuming I'm going to have too know the streets and the corners and at least the main streets of the city.

What would be the best way to go about researching the streets of new york? I could propose a trip there, but its definetly unsafe to be wondering around the streets

I would definetly try and take a trip there in the heart of the city, but what am I do about the more unsafe areas where my story takes place? Maps Maybe?

Google is your friend. Especially when it comes to the physical layout of streets, avenues, etc. You should be able to find older maps of that era quite easily. Can you be more specific about your character / protagonist as simply using the word "gang" leaves a void as to what you mean... Italian? African American? Irish? etc...

Vaxil - Sam W and DAAR84 have answered your question, but I have one for you. Why New York?

I'm a retired (sort of) journalist starting to write fiction. My imagination, so far, is not up to writing a story about a place or about people I don't know. I've spent a good bit of time in New York off and on over the years, enough to have a feel for the city. Every city is different and you have to capture the ambiance, the personality, if you will, of whatever city you write about. I'm curious how you can do that with computer images and street maps.

I wonder the same thing Garza does: why put yourself through the trouble of writing about a place you don't know? Google Maps would give you locations, but I think people from New York would be able to tell you're not from there, by the fact that you just drop random street names. You have to understand the flow of a place, what is typical to be happening there at every time of day, the city life.

Also, it seems sort of trite to write about New York gangsters in that era...there were gangsters almost everywhere thanks to the window offered them by Prohibition. Why not write about gangsters in some place you have been?

Well, if that was the case you couldn't write about anywhere you'd never been. What would be the point of imagination? As an author you have a thing called 'creative liberty', by which you can alter certain aspects of pre-existing locales to suit the course of your fiction. For instance, I've never been to New York City, but I have a story based in it. I've never been on-board a United States warship, but through research and imagination I wrote about one. I've never been infected by Novichok nerve gas, nor do I know anyone who has, but I've written about it. I've never met an undead creature, but I've written a novella about an outbreak of a virus which turns the townspeople into them.

My point is simple: First-hand experience cannot be bettered, no, but with good imagination and strong research you can write about anything you want.

True, but just because you managed to do it well doesn't necessarily mean everyone can. I just find stories more engaging and interesting when I feel that the writer intimately knows the place that they're writing about. I think it really shows in their writing, and at the same time, it really shows when people don't have personal experience.

There's the whole old saying, "write what you know", that I could bring up.

But the fact is that, in this ultra-connected world, we often want to write about things outside our frame of reference in order to explore, and it's impossible for a writer to have personal experience in everything he is interested in. So, I guess that's why this whole dilemma exists.

Creative liberty is fine, but you do need imagination to go with it. If you have it, that's great. Those of us who don't have it must make do with what we have personally seen, heard, felt, smelt, and tasted.

I could research London thoroughly using all the resources available today, and I could write stories set in London, but anyone who lives in London or who has spent much time there would sense 'this is all a lie'. Faulkner had, I'm sure, a good imagination, but his success lies in the stories he wrote about the people and places he knew personally.

Since you are needing location ideas from the early part of the century, genealogy websites can help with that as many have maps (traditional and drawings) from various eras.

If you can not find what you are looking for, join genealogy forums and ask - there are many folks who will have access to what you need and provide you a copy. Trust me on that one, I practically "live" on one that has been the holy grail for my own genealogy research.

Keeping in mind the facts that streets, buildings and geographic features are inanimate, that their inclusion is merely either padding or scene-setting, and that such inclusion does not, in itself, move the story forward, a good writer should be able to finagle their way through any locale-focussed scene without giving away the fact they’ve never been there.

Here’s such a scene (one written by someone who’s never been there):

“After finishing breakfast he went to the office to make enquiries.

A tall and willowy woman working at a computer looked up as Grenville approached. She appeared to be in her late thirties or early forties. Long red hair cascaded over her shoulders, and the greenest of green eyes sparkled like emeralds as she smiled at him.

‘I was wondering if you have any maps.’

‘That I would. Is it one for around here you’d be wanting?’

‘That’ll do for now, thanks.’ If it turns out I need others, I’ll have an excuse to come back and see you again.

He spread the map on the counter. The words Borlin Valley in the middle of the sheet jumped out at him like a message. He’d look no further.

It seemed to be about twelve or fifteen kilometres away, due north. Of course, valleys were large and the map had no relief details, so that was only a guess. He’d simply head towards the general area, pull over where the land began to drop, and continue on foot…

…the gravel-edged road breasted a low rise between stands of mean-looking shrubs, and suddenly the valley opened ahead. Grenville parked the Opel, stepped out, and spent some minutes gathering a first impression.

The overall picture seemed bleak, with harsh grey rock rather than earth the major feature. Smooth outcrops predominated, shaped by glacial action during the last Ice Age, and still showing scrapes from the detritus pushed over them by the ice-flow.

A narrow track wound up away from him, vanishing into an isolated bank of mist. In the middle distance he observed what appeared to be a standing stone, probably a religious relic from a past millennium. On the lower slopes he saw areas clear of rocks, although whether by nature’s design or human intent was uncertain, and here a few black cattle grazed peacefully. Cultivation of crops occurred in one or two small fields. A gurgling stream tumbled down one side of the valley to join a more placid watercourse meandering across a depression edged with dark green trees.

And in places, both on the floor of the valley and on level areas amongst the rocks, stark reminders of the Famine remained evident – scatterings of stones, each collection once a dwelling hut that had fallen into disrepair through lack of human occupancy.

Grenville focussed intently on the setting. In his mind’s eye he could see a woman in rags digging with a sharpened stick in the shallow soil, planting or perhaps harvesting potatoes or turnips, while her husband staggered towards the nearest village, bent beneath a back-breaking load of the cut hazel poles used for thatching the roofs of the well-to-do.

He thought, if one looked around Ireland, it would not be just a place of rocks and trees and rivers. One needed to consider its history. It swarmed with phantoms, with ghosts, out of its ancient past. They all drift in and make the landscape what it is.

The mist began twisting and rolling down off the higher slope towards Grenville. Within seconds the swirling damp greyness enveloped him. He became disoriented…”

The writing of that scene was based on little more than viewing a photograph.

The same type of scam should be possible for NYC.