I’ve mentioned before that when writing, Google is a valuable asset. I’ve Googled guns, knives, the circulation system, tequila, Irish whisky, martial arts, how to escape a strangle-hold, and many other crazy things in the course of writing. Many an author has joked they hope they won’t be judged by their browser’s search history. I’d second that motion, otherwise I’d probably be under investigation for plotting multiple murders.
Writing The Yacht Club novellas was no exception. Sexy lingerie, bathing suits, posh suburbs of Vancouver, Robson Street bars, Hawaii, are just a few of the things I used Google to research. And then there were the more eccentric searches:
- how to construct a water-powered electric generator,
- how to build a chicken coop,
- owl anatomy,
- barred rock chickens,
- shibaru, or Japanese bondage
- Samoan tattoos
- Celtic designs and their meaning
I even stalked and fell in love with a West Vancouver neighbourhood (I’m looking at you, Willoughby Rd) using Google streetview so that I could figure out where my characters would live, shop and eat.
Now don’t get me wrong, I would love to be able to just pick up and travel around the world, all in the name of research, but I have yet to reach that sort of author status. In the meantime, Google is the next best thing.
The Yacht Club releases April 25th.
A shudder passed through Kimi’s body as she remembered the night before. God, she needed to get laid. Shaking her head, she grinned to herself at the thought and reached behind her back to find the pull cord attached to the zipper of her wetsuit. The neoprene suit had been one of the best things she had packed when she left Honolulu. Without it, she doubted if she could have continued her daily morning swim ritual; the water was just too cold on this side of the Pacific. She tugged on the cord, cursing at the zipper which habitually got stuck.
“Hey there, need a hand with that?” The voice was deep and smooth. Kimi turned in surprise and came face to face with the speaker’s Adam’s apple. She looked up, shading her hand from the sun to see his face. He was tall, lean and tanned, or maybe he just naturally had a darker skin tone. He wore a day or two’s worth of whiskers, but they only helped to give him that sexy bad-boy look. The crown of curly, blonde hair only added to the effect.