I seldom talk about the details of my fiction writing here because a) I don’t want to bore people to death and b) I’m afraid you’ll all think I’ve gone round the twist. But today that’s what’s on my head, so that’s what’s getting written about. Written about instead of written. Poor Baughmans.
Veronica “Ro” Baughman has been given a job. Mind you, her story isn’t about her job–the career is a bit of background flavour. The story is about Ro Baughman learning to fall in love…with herself.
I’d toyed around with making her a chef or a baker or a designer or one of those other flashy/cuddly romance novel careers. (Florist, chocolatier, craft shop owner…you know the drill.) But I’m emphasising both her difference from other women and her constant sublimation of her sexuality.
Voila. Ro Baughman is now a locksmith.
Here’s the tricky part–I’ve done research out the wazinga about how one gets to be a locksmith, how much one makes as a locksmith and the tools one must own in the locksmithing profession. But I have no idea what it is like to be a locksmith; especially a female locksmith. So I found a couple of female locksmiths and sent them each an email.
You have to wonder what they think when they get a note from some strange woman in Tennessee asking if she can ask them a few questions in research for her novel.
This is the part of novel writing that is my downfall. I love the research so much that it often overtakes the actual book. (Just ask my novel/doorstop about the history of medicine in Wales.) I’m trying not to do that with these lighter commercial books, but I still can’t put my name on something that lacks any degree of versimilitude.
Granted, this assumes that a) it will be finished and b) it will be published. But start as you mean to go on, as they say, so we’ll just assume the best case scenario here, alrighty?