I went into a sensory deprivation tank for the sake of my books. Here’s what happened.
What would you do for the sake of authenticity? When authors set to write a book, their primary objective is to tell a story, but that is rarely their only goal. A book that feels unauthentic could have a fatal faith in a reader’s hands. No one likes fake experiences or people that put up a front, so why would books be any different? For this reason, authors aim to deliver authentic reading experiences, no matter the length of their stories, genre, or their audience’s demographic.
Believe it or not, fiction books rely heavily on authenticity. If a reader sniffs a sense of fakeness, their suspension of disbelief will break and their reading experience will be less than optimal. For this reason, fiction writers may spend a sizeable chunk of their time doing research.
What has always impressed me is how far some fiction authors go for the sake of their stories. Not all research stays between books and silent hours at the library. They go as far as exposing themselves to uncomfortable and even dangerous situations.
For example, Richard Gonzales—author of Deer Dancer and Raza Rising—teaches a workshop about conducting field research and writing responsibly. In his workshop, he talked about the time he spent months living among the Yaqui natives in Sonora, Mexico. He said that in order to write about them accurately and be respectful of their culture; he had to expose himself to living among them. Never you mind about the discomfort of living in the true Mexican desert and the danger of cartel wars at the time.
I was in awe when I heard about his experiences conducting research and that made me think: what sort of research could I do in order to deliver a more realistic story? If only there was a way to describe my technology and its effects more accurately. Sure, writing the Refurbished saga has pushed me to research genetics, nanotechnology, the memory process, and medical trials. But all of that research stayed between me, the internet, and lots of books. As a SciFi author, I wasn’t sure that I could expose myself to many experiences that would help me understand my technology better.
The answer came to me in the shape of floating tanks.
Floating tanks: Why SciFi authors might use them in research.
A floating tank or sensory deprivation tank is a dark, lightproof, soundproof environment set at the same temperature as the body. As their name proclaims, their purpose is to cut a person off from as many sensory stimuli as possible. Experts claim the experience is meant to relax the user, alleviate muscle and joint pain, and combat the effects of anxiety.
These tanks might be perfect for SciFi writers for a few reasons…
1. Did someone say zero gravity?
These tanks, on average, contain 200 gallons of water and 850 pounds of Epsom salt. The tanks are, on average, 8 feet long and 4 feet wide. These specs allow the user to float freely and experience fewer effects of gravity. This experience might be useful for writers focused on Hard SciFi, space voyages, and exploration stories.
2. Utter darkness, utter silence
The tanks are pitch black and completely soundproof to isolate the user from any sensory distractions. People report that, during their time inside the tanks, they were unable to tell whether they had their eyes open or closed. The experience is unique for everyone, but time can move faster or slower inside the tanks because of the lack of stimuli from the outside world. Wouldn’t this be the perfect example of what a floating astronaut may feel in the infinite vacuum of space?
3. Creativity boost
According to an article published in the European Journal of Integrative Medicine in 1992, there was a study that successfully enhanced creativity through the use of floatation tanks. Although the study lacked several control features and had a questionable pool of subjects, it can’t hurt to give float tanks a try to try to boost the mind into a more creative spectrum.
Why I used float tanks and what my experience was like
I didn’t get into the use of this tanks because of any of the reasons stated above. The reason I decided to use float tanks was a lot simpler: my characters’ journeys in Eisen Castle will depend on the use of sensory deprivation tanks and other cool technology that deprives them of outside stimuli.
I wanted to know what my characters would feel when using both forms of technology. I wanted to have an accurate idea of what kind of emotional responses I’d get from being in a dark and silent space. I was also a bit curious about how my ADHD brain would react to the lack of stimuli.
Contrary to what some experts suggest, the experience was far from relaxing for me. There was something really vulnerable about being inside that dark space with nothing on you but your thoughts. Time stretched and I was unable to tell how much longer I had to be in that space. Anxiety creeped in at the lack of sound. I could feel nothing, and I became extremely aware of my pulse. By the end of my floating session, I was exhausted and very hungry. I stepped out of the floating tank shaky and wired.
I’m not sure why the experience was so uncomfortable for me. Perhaps I sicked myself out since I was already nervous about trying floating tanks out. I’ve read that hallucinations are possible due to the lack of stimuli and I was not too keen on that aspect. I also read that people who struggle with PTSD are more likely to have panic attacks and I was not looking forward to having my brain melt in a public place. Maybe my discomfort was just first-time-floater jitters, who knows.
In spite of the negative sensations, one thing is certain: I will do it again. The experience ended up being valuable for research purposes. I know that I will have to experience this discomfort several times to get the right feelings and senses on the page. When it comes to authenticity, I now know what I’m willing to do in order to achieve it: I’m willing to be uncomfortable for the sake of my books.