The Research Trip That Still Lives in My Head

Writers tend to collect experiences the way some people collect souvenirs.

A certain street corner. The smell of saltwater on the wind. The creak of wooden boards beneath your feet as you walk along a dock. Those details linger long after the trip ends, waiting for the moment when they can find their way into a story. It's probably why I'm more of an experience gal than a "stuff" gal.

One of the research trips that still lives vividly in my mind took me to a coastal town where the rhythm of life seemed tied to the tides. Fishing boats rocked gently in the harbor, and the air carried that unmistakable mix of salt and sun-warmed wood. So many of the sights and sounds took me back to my childhood, when I visited this little island and first learned about my family ties to it.

This time, I reserved a room at a quaint little B&B for two nights. I remember walking along the waterfront early one morning before most of the town had fully woken up. A few shopkeepers were opening their doors on Main Street, and gulls wheeled overhead, their squawks announcing the start of the day like a rooster's crow. Oh, there were a few of those too.

Moments like that are gold for a novelist.

Writers tend to notice things others might otherwise overlook. The color of the water shifting as the sun climbs higher, the way the breeze carries voices across the docks, the quiet conversations between locals who have known each other for years.

Research trips aren't always about gathering facts. Sometimes they’re about absorbing atmosphere.

On that particular visit, I carried a small notebook with me and jotted down details whenever something caught my attention. The sound of rigging tapping against a mast. The faded lettering on the side of an old boat. The scent of fresh coffee drifting from a café tucked into a corner building.

None of those details seemed important at the time. But months later, when I sat down to write a scene set along the shoreline, those small observations returned like old friends. Suddenly the setting felt alive because I wasn't inventing the world entirely from imagination. I could actually remember it...thanks to my notes.

Places Have Stories of Their Own

Every weathered building has witnessed laughter, loss, and everything in between. Every harbor or town square holds decades of quiet history beneath the surface. Part of a writer's job is simply to listen.

To walk through a place slowly enough that the atmosphere sinks in. To notice the little details that reveal character. That doesn't only come from the people who live there. It can also come from the setting itself. As a writer, I try to paint a setting in such a way that the reader goes there with me and imagines themselves standing right there with my characters.

That research trip reminded me that stories don't always contain intense, dramatic moments. Sometimes, the story is found in the quiet spaces between those moments. I mean, think of your favorite movie. It could be an action thriller or a small town romance. The entire movie isn't 100% constant action or constant drama. The script also layers in some lighthearted, relaxed moments to give viewers a chance to breathe or connect better with the characters on a different level.

A good setting can lend itself to those sliced-in moments. It's also often a place that sticks with you long after the story concludes. It lives and breathes and seems to have a life of its own. When you close your eyes, you can see the details clearly in your mind.

And for a storyteller, when I pay attention long enough, a place will tell me exactly the kind of story it wants to become.

Have you ever visited a place that stayed with you long after you left? Somewhere that felt like it held stories in the air? Share with me in the comments what location has lingered in your memory the most.