When research goes wrong

A cautionary tale.

When I research a book, I try to go to the places where it’s set. I want to give each novel a sense of reality. Unfortunately, reality can sometimes turn out like a bad joke.

My next book is a historical novel. I can’t tell you where it’s set, or where I took these photos, because I might want to return there someday, and that will be impossible if I’m identified. I took my daughter with me as a research assistant, because she knows the language. And at first everything went well. The people were charming and the food didn’t poison us. The political situation was a bit dicey, but we ignored that.

Unfortunately, Kate’s language skills also turned out to be a bit dicey, which is how she ended up being drafted into — and eventually leading — the resistance cell that took the capital. (Without a shot being fired — that’s my girl!)

It all seemed, briefly, like a fairy tale. Her first act as Commandante (after restoring the country’s MTV and YouTube access) was to institute a grand ball.

Suitors flocked to her. It was a dream.

Until the paparazzi found this old photo of me, with the Husband.

I tried to explain. It was the eighties! We were young! It was rock and roll! They didn’t care. The hair, the tabloids said — look at the awful hair.

I was kicked out of the country. (Yes, that’s the infamous “Red Hand” imperial guard shoving me across the border.)

Fortunately I made it home safely, and am now back at work. The new book, The Dupes of April, should be published next spring.