My process:
I find that I have to totally immerse myself in my research when I write historical fiction. I like to read history books about the characters, and I study primary sources such as the letters and papers of Henry VIII. I find that I often fall asleep listening to history books on Audible as I try to see and understand the shape of my story.
I think about who the people are who changed the protagonist’s life and how they might see those people. Is this a thriller? Is this a tragedy? These are the sort of choices I like to think about in the early stages. How much do I tell my reader, and how much could I hide in plain sight? For me, this part is all about uncovering the bones of the story. I used to be a total pantster but the more I write, the easier I have found structure. I have ADHD, and so I can become pretty obsessive and hyperfocused. I have to set timers to make sure that I am eating and drinking properly and to rest my eyes.
The next stage is writing down each year and the important events that took place. I make so many messy notes, charts, and I travel to sites that inspire me to write. I take lots of photos to remind me of the atmosphere.
As much as I love to research, I know when it’s done. For me, it’s when I understand what happened, know where the best place to begin, and when I know what the characters mean to each other. Then I write about each character and what their motivation might be. At the moment, I am deep into the research of Catherine Howard, and for so long, I just could not see her motivation, let alone Lady Rochford’s. Then one day, it just came to me.
The next stage is rest. I just have a break and think about other things. It’s really important to be lazy because my unconscious mind is working hard behind the scenes. I go to my craft club and walk my dog on my mobility scooter. I will have sudden epiphanies out of nowhere. Such as the time I realised a character could have all the signs and symptoms of a clinical narcissist, and my reader might not recognise them, but they would know having such a cold husband did not make a happy marriage. I find that everyday events and conversations give me ideas, and I write them all down. Then, when I feel fired up to work off, I go to my writing/craft room.
For me, writing is for pleasure. I have no intention of wanting to be on TV or appear in my local newspaper. I am an introvert, and I really dislike social media too. I am too much of a private person for all of that nonsense. Only a select few friends even know that I write. Historical fiction is not a very profitable genre, but it’s where my heart has always been. Although I did write two cosy mysteries back in the days of NaNoWriMo. (National writing month).
How to know when to stop researching and start writing.
Writers who work use history, psychology, or write in any field that demands intellectual rigour know that research is not optional. It’s the foundation of their work. But there is a point at which researching stops serving the work and begins to smother it. It’s so easy to end up with immaculate notes and no book.
Many writers don’t recognise that moment when the drafting must begin because research can feel virtuous. It feels like diligence. It feels like “doing the job properly.” And if they are anything like me, they love to read about a particular era, visit all the sights, and if I’m not careful, it could be the moment my real work quietly dies.
The question is not how much research is enough. The real question is: when does research stop being research and start being avoidance?
Research is the opening argument, not the final word:
Wayne C. Booth’s ‘The Craft of Research’ makes a point many writers conveniently ignore: research is meant to sharpen your questions, not deliver a perfect, airtight understanding before you begin.
Umberto Eco, in ‘How to Write a Thesis’, is even more direct by saying that writing must begin before you feel ready, because writing is part of the thinking process. I have to agree with him. It took years of absorbing Spanish culture before I even thought about writing Infidel, which is set in Spain. I certainly would not feel as comfortable writing a cowboy novel despite having lived in the United States because I know I have not absorbed the culture enough to understand all the nuances.
If your research has given you a working grasp of the landscape, the tensions, the contradictions and the unanswered questions, then you have enough to begin shaping a narrative.
Writers who wait for total mastery and perfection often never start.
Repetition of research means that you’ve reached saturation:
Historians and researchers use the term saturation to describe the moment when new sources stop adding new insight.
If you’re encountering the same facts, the same anecdotes, the same interpretations, you’re not deepening your understanding, you’re circling it.
At that point, it’s time to start drafting.
When research becomes avoidance:
It can become so easy to choose a task that feels productive to avoid the one that actually matters. For writers, research is the most socially acceptable form of avoidance. It looks serious. It looks intellectual. It looks like work. But if you feel a quiet relief when you decide to “research a bit more,” that’s not diligence. That’s fear wearing a scholarly coat.
The blank page is a writer’s real work.
Research is only useful if it leads you back to it.
If you can explain it, you can write it:
If you can explain something clearly, you understand it well enough to work with it. You don’t need encyclopaedic knowledge to begin drafting. You just need functional clarity. If you can talk through your premise, your historical moment, your character’s situation, or your thematic argument without checking your notes, you have crossed the threshold.
The gaps that remain will reveal themselves naturally in the writing.
And you will research those gaps with far more precision than you can from the outside.
Drafting is part of the research process:
I have found that writing clarifies what research actually matters to my work.
If you’re still trying to “finish” your research before you begin, you’re working against the grain of how serious nonfiction and historically grounded fiction are made.
The energy is telling you to move into drafting.
Writers who ignore that signal often end up with immaculate notes and no book. I know this from experience.
Nicola Harris 