I love research. Of course, it is dangerous. I'm checking a date and-all at once- there I am caught up in the events of that day, that year, that period. I hear about a man who lived long ago and I want to know more about him. I become fascinated by his family, his loves, his way of life, his country and spend hours learning more and more about him or off I go on a tangent because his younger brother or his child is pulling me away. Finally-I stop. I realize I have enough material and it's time-long past time to write.
Of course, sometimes the material I've found and not used is right for another piece, another story or another character. This may lead to papers saved in files, cabinets, bookcases, tables and last resort-the floor. I confess-I have a messy floor.