Leah Sanders

One of my favorite things about writing is doing the research. I know. That probably makes me sound a couple fries short to you. I mean, who enjoys doing research? When I announce to my students the time has come for their annual research paper assignment, I always hear a collective groan of displeasure. Sane people do not enjoy doing research. Yeah, I get it. But in my defense, I work in a middle school... sanity is not really an option for me.

So, call me crazy if you must. I do enjoy doing research.

Often the information I find acts as a stimulus to my writing process. While doing background research for my most recent release, Sacred Ring, I discovered that Saint Valentine had been adopted as an Irish saint in the mid-1800s. Before finding that bit of gold, the only thing I knew was the legend surrounding Saint Valentine's life and death... in Rome. The cool thing about the new knowledge is that I was already wanting to set my story in Ireland, so the history came right up beside me and suddenly I had a prologue.

While writing The Parting Gift, the research acted more in a supportive role. My story was there, it just needed a few details hammered out. Things were a lot different in 1950 than they are today. My main character was a pilot, so he needed a job with a company that existed in 1950, and he needed to fly into the airports that were in use in 1950. I wasn't even a gleam in my mama's eye in 1950 (she was only a few months old herself) — a little research was in order. Gotta get those details right.

I love to learn new things (or in some cases, old things). That's the number one reason I don't mind doing a little research when I write. I like to know what I'm talking about. Probably why I became a teacher. My dad would always tell me, "Don't study just to get the grade, Sis. Study to learn." Nowadays, I sit down to do a little research and can literally get lost following one rabbit trail after another finding all sorts of interesting information. Yes, some of it's useless. Some of it's trivial. But you never know where you're going to find that next great idea for a story.

Here's where my research led me:

“Your Holiness.” The bishop leaned over and kissed Pope Gregory’s ring.

The pope accepted the satchel, and his gaze burned into the bishop’s eyes. “Have you determined?” he prodded. “Is it the Sacred Ring?”

“I believe so.”

The pope lifted the flap of the pouch and reached inside, withdrawing the lion’s head in a slow deliberate hand, turning it over in his palm to inspect it reverently. His voice lowered almost to a whisper as he scrutinized the Ring in his fingers. “Did you tell anyone?”

“The men at the site know.”

“Saint Valentine’s Sacred Ring is an important relic, but in the wrong hands it could cause a war. The legends of the Ring will draw the attention of those who would use its power for evil. The wisest course of action would be to throw off the treasure hunters.” His Holiness took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “The remains will be the key. Divide the remains and the artifacts among several churches. And one in Ireland. The friar who was visiting Rome last year. The one who was such a popular speaker. Make a gift to him. The Church is newly revived there, and another saint in Ireland will increase the interest.” He was pacing now, hands clasped behind his back, his robes swishing across the floor. “Friar…the Carmelite. What was his name, Hébert?”

“Spratt.”

“Yes, Friar Spratt. He was a good speaker.” Pope Gregory moved suddenly to his desk and slipped another parchment from the stack. “I’ll write him letters explaining the importance of our request.”

“Perhaps Your Holiness should address the letters to Archbishop Murray of Dublin. He is well-acquainted with the area.”

“Yes, of course. I will leave the procession arrangements to you then, Hébert. In the meantime, we will hold the Ring in safekeeping. Perhaps the scattering of the saint’s remains will throw off those who would seek this for their own gain.”

There was a solid knock on the door, and Marcus slipped in quietly. “Your Holiness.” He bowed slightly. His eyes were wide, and he seemed uncomfortable, shifting from foot to foot and casting nervous glances at the door behind him.

“Yes, my son?”

“Roberto Santini. He requests an audience.”

“Santini.” Pope Gregory shifted his gaze abruptly to Bishop Hébert’s and indicated the leather pouch with a pointed glance. Hébert scooped up the satchel and slipped out the side door. The sooner this Ring was out of Rome, the safer the world would be.

(from Sacred Ring, the prologue)

Be sure to check it out on Amazon or Barnes and Noble.