There’s a Queensland author who writes historicals with Australian settings. She’s very popular overseas, particularly in Germany. I’ve read two of her books. That’s all I could handle. Too many historical inaccuracies.
These days I buy only from friends, people with whom I’m sharing the writing journey. The less heavy lifting when I eventually downsize, the better. Besides, here on the Gold Coast we’re so fortunate. Books are available in abundance from the wonderful library system.
Genealogical research is an amazing thing. I first started my investigations at the National Library in Canberra decades ago when recovering from a severe illness. Nowadays it’s so much easier, with mountains of information available via the internet.
When we travel, we can imagine our fictional characters doing what we do. So, for example, we take note of what it feels like to use public transport, what streets look like, how the air smells. All grist for the author’s mill.
When you begin researching your family, you are drawn into a world of wonderful stories. Dozens of tales from other countries. My grandmother tearing across the Argentinian pampas (sidesaddle!) on her horse.
My parents had purchased our house from my late grandmother’s estate. Built in the 1830s, there were a few convict bricks and, under the tin roof, shingles. In the garden we played with shards of broken crockery. My father found a clay pipe, bottles, and ink wells.