Uphill Both Ways...

Barefoot.

In the snow.


Okay, so now I'm doing the hard stuff in my novel. I love, love, love reading historicals, right? And I adore research, right? Plus I've read like a zillion things set in this time period, right?

Why
*headdesk*
is
*headdesk*
this
*headdesk*
so
*headdesk*
much
*headdesk*
work?

It seems like two steps forward and one step back. Everything I write sends me running for a reference book. I compulsively fact check because I have a horror of getting things wrong. If I get things wrong, I'll be called the stupidest laziest author to ever live. I'm not kidding. I read on a message board I frequent where a well known author got something wrong with the money system. You should have seen the scathing over-the-coals treatment. Honestly, folks sounded ready to banish her from the kingdom. It was scary.



I've loved the characters, but this mystery has taken more time to come together. It is finally starting to gel. I haven't written new words in three days (oh wait. I rewrote two scenes. I guess that counts. Nor really new, more like "pre-owned" words.) But I feel like I've answred some important who and whys, plus even a couple of hows that had puzzled me. There are multiple baddies running around (with varying degrees of badness) which was getting my little kitteh brain befuzzled.



Now if I could only find more information about the Chinese Pagoda that burned in St. James Park in 1914 during HRH's Grand Jubiliee. I want to throw a body off it and I need to know the feasibility of this. Strangely, I'm finding this info difficult to locate. Go figure. History books never do tell me the good stuff.