Warning:  Overextended analogies ahead.

At this point in my process, I have characters.  I have this constellation of “moments” that I believe I can string a plot around.  My next step is to take all these wild ideas I have–like, “Ooh, what if she gets on a ship for the West Indies!” or “Ooh, what if he runs for Parliament!” and let historical reality crush them.  Mua ha ha.

No, not really.

For a writer of historical romance–okay, at least for this writer of historical romance–research is a chicken-and-egg thing.  Meaning, I eat a lot while I do it.

No, okay, seriously.  It usually starts out as, “Here’s the story I want to tell.  How can I make it historically plausible?”  (Note, I am relatively unconcerned about it being historically probable. It’s more than okay with me if I have my characters doing highly unlikely things–that makes for good story, IMO.  I just try to avoid having them do chronologically impossible things.)

So I crack open that egg and start the research, and discover all the defects in that perfect, fluffy adorable little chick of a plot I’d been dreaming about.  I have the inevitable moments like these: 

“What do you mean, they didn’t have metronomes in 1815!?! My entire plot hinges on a missing super-spy metronome! *headdesk*” (This would be a random example.  While I admire those authors who can write convincing Regency spies, I know I am not one of them.  At least, not yet.)

But as the research progresses, I find myself getting new ideas.  This is where that imperfect chicken starts laying some eggs.  Some are good eggs and some are bad eggs, but hey–free eggs!  For example, when I was researching the second book of my trilogy, Surrender of a Siren, I read several first-person accounts of sea voyages to and from the West Indies, and those accounts were where I got the idea for many of the scenes in the book.  Certain traditions and experiences popped up in book after book, and I decided my characters should endure enjoy the same.  (Really, how could I miss the chance to put my hero in a toga?)

So…um…at this point I have…an imperfect but oddly endearing chicken, that’s starting to look cute despite its flaws.  And a bunch of eggs, just full of golden, yolky possibility.

Let’s start cookin’!

Of course, as I write the book, I keep researching.  A thousand little questions arise along the way.  “Just how does one milk a goat?” for instance.  (Answer here.)

Note to self: I really should have breakfast before I blog.

My apologies to CM for any offense to her beloved totem, the most honorable and venerated chicken.

What’s the strangest thing you’ve ever found yourself researching for a book?  Any favorite sources to share?