By Penny Reeve

There is a character in my young adult novel Out of the Cages, called Purna. For the majority of the novel she does not speak. Despite being a young woman, she behaves like a child. She rocks and cowers and watches the world with wide frightened eyes. She is a survivor, her behaviour the result of extreme trauma. And she is dying. 

Writing a character like Purna can at first seem easy or flippant. We draw out our writer’s imagination and take it to the extremes. We construct a character, drop on a name and some identifying features and we’re done. Right? 

Well, we could be. But writing with integrity requires more than cookie cutter characters. 

You see, Purna was a fictional character but her story of slavery and abuse was real. Every year tens of thousands of men, women and children are trafficked into situations where their human rights are ignored and their value accorded by the income they can bring in. When I decided to write a novel about human trafficking I knew I’d need to do some research to get the facts right. I knew what many writers know: good research results in stronger stories. 

But research on its own can be harsh, impersonal and – occasionally – wrong. I remember being introduced to a small group of girls in a rehabilitation centre in Kathmandu, Nepal and feeling clearly the weight of responsibility my research had offered me. The fictional story I was writing was not simply make believe, it had been the painful reality of these girls. I watched them eye me warily, their hands paused over the jewellery they were crafting. They waited to see what questions I would ask, and why. And I found myself speechless. All the facts and figures I wanted to know to ‘make my story come alive’ were suddenly frozen. All I could do was smile, ask some gentle questions about their handiwork and allow the social worker to lead me onto the next room. I realised my research needs must be satisfied in another way. I could not ask these girls to relive their experiences just for me and my book.

I have come to believe that research on its own is meaningless when removed from empathy. When we are weaving stories – especially if we are weaving stories we believe God has asked us to write – we have a creative, human duty to listen with our hearts as well as our minds. The Bible reminds us of this in 1 John 3:18 when we are told to expand our love beyond mere words. Our love must be demonstrated through the actions and speech accompanying (or enabling) the words we use. Empathy must therefore accompany our research, even if we are investigating something seemingly trivial. Whether it’s picking the brains of the local pastry chef about how it feels to have an angry customer, or interviewing the plumber about the best washers to use for a tap replacement, we are ambassadors of Christ. 

The result of empathy based research is frequently a deep sense of respect. Respect for the real people behind the fictional worlds we are creating, and respect for our readers. Several years after my research in Kathmandu I had the opportunity to visit another rehabilitation centre for survivors or trafficking, this time in Mumbai, India. As I sat in a circle sharing stories with a group of young women and girls who had recently escaped slavery, I was struck by their courage and strength. Even the shy silent ones impressed me. I knew their stories needed to be told, and that my fiction must honour them. Research conducted from a place of empathy and respect ensures we accurately portray the stories we are trying to tell without leaning on assumptions, stereotypes or cliché. Fiction becomes truth in the deepest way possible. But this type of research, this type of writing is not for the faint hearted. 

I realise now that when I first drafted the character of Purna, she was a cardboard cut-out pieced together from my imagination and a scattering of fact. But by the time she went to print I found that I had stepped back in awe. This troubled, silent, courageous girl represented so many stories that I had heard, read or learned about. Empathy, respect and research gave her voice. And in doing so, it changed my heart. 

Penny Reeve (also writing as Penny Jaye) is the award winning, Australian author of more than 20 books for children. ​She writes picture books, junior fiction, children’s Bible studies and young adult fiction. She’s an experienced writing workshop leader, conference presenter and writing coach with a particular interest in equipping Christian children’s writers. You can learn more about Penny at www.pennyreeve.com and www.pennyjaye.com or find her on Facebook Penny Reeve .