Writing about the 1950s has given me tremendous respect for my mother's generation.

We can learn so much looking outside our core field of expertise.

She wishes her grandmother had not been so protective, and that she understood better what passes between a man and woman. As it is, she simply enjoys the feelings and wonders if they are what lightning is made of, for everything comes back to the weather. Tears like rain. Smiles like the sun. Hair as dry as sand and fear like the dark ocean.

Without archives many stories of real people would be lost, and along with those stories, vital clues that allow us to reflect and interpret our lives today.

A word out of place or an interesting choice of vocabulary can spawn a whole character.

Sometimes I create a character from a scrap - a mere mention that has been left behind.

Research material can turn up anywhere - in a dusty old letter in an archive, a journal or some old photographs you find in a charity shop.