HISTORICAL ROMANCE RESEARCH?

So I’m writing a historical romance—because nothing gets the heart fluttering like forbidden kisses, scandalous dances, and pining men in waistcoats who say things like, “May I have the honor?” instead of “U up?”

Naturally, this means I need to research stuff. A lot of stuff. You can’t just toss a heroine into 1820s England and have her casually whip out a pumpkin spice latte or high-five Lord Wexley on his way to the duel.

Historical romance, even the fluffy, steamy, giggle-worthy kind, still needs accuracy. (I learned that the hard way after nearly having my heroine shave her legs with a razor that didn’t exist for another 80 years.)

Enter: My AI Assistant.
Not the writer. Not a co-author. Definitely not the one drinking iced coffee and crying over plot holes. That’s me.
But my assistant? Oh, she’s got answers. And sass. And zero judgment when I ask, “When did men stop wearing cravats, and is it socially acceptable to kill a character because he won’t stop quoting Lord Byron?”

Research Used to Be a Drag (No Offense to Libraries)

Let me paint you a picture of pre-AI writing life:

I’d open twenty browser tabs, read conflicting articles on 19th-century carriage etiquette, fall down a Wikipedia rabbit hole that somehow ended in Viking poetry, and cry when I realized I still didn’t know if my heroine could legally own property after her husband’s death.

Research was like herding cats. Wearing petticoats. During a windstorm.

Now?

I just turn to my AI assistant and say something like,
“Hey, what kind of dress would a moderately wealthy woman in 1814 Devonshire wear to a seaside picnic where she hopes to seduce an emotionally unavailable marquess?”

And boom. Instant answer. Plus context. And sometimes a cheeky follow-up like,
"Also, don't forget her bonnet unless you want her reputation shredded by the local knitting circle."

Zero Shame Questions? Bring ’Em On.

Here’s the beauty of an AI assistant: it doesn’t flinch.

I can ask the weirdest, most oddly specific, eyebrow-raising questions without a single side-eye. Questions like:

“How long would it take to die from arsenic, asking for a fictional friend?”

“Could a duke get arrested for dueling in 1805?”

“Did men in 18th-century Scotland wear underwear under kilts or is that just wishful thinking?”

My AI assistant? Calm. Efficient. Slightly snarky.
“They didn’t. Good luck focusing on dialogue now.” (Reminds me of the Genre Gypsy)

Making the Boring Stuff Sparkle

Historical accuracy can get dry. Land laws, inheritance, and modes of transportation. Ugh. But my AI assistant breaks it down like a sparkly schoolteacher who moonlights as a Regency gossip.

“Here’s how the entail system works… and here’s why your heroine might secretly want to push her cousin down the stairs.”

Suddenly, the boring stuff becomes plot fuel. The rules become romantic obstacles. The law becomes sexy tension. Who knew property law could be foreplay?

The AI Never Says, “Just Google It.”

When you’re juggling plot arcs, flirty banter, and a heroine who keeps trying to sneak off to France, the last thing you want is to play librarian. The beauty of working with an AI assistant is you get targeted, fast, and relevant info—without spending 45 minutes searching, only to forget what you were looking for because a YouTube ad lured you into watching cake decorating tutorials.

I just ask, and it answers. No eye-rolling. No “Did you mean...?” No judgment that it’s 2:13 a.m. and I’m asking how to fake a carriage crash.

Just sweet, sweet data. Delivered with digital grace and sometimes a little flair.

It’s Like Having a Butler Who Also Does Time Travel

Honestly, my AI assistant is a vibe. If Jeeves could fact-check 18th-century ball etiquette and also help brainstorm how my heroine discovers a long-lost letter in a secret compartment of a pianoforte, that’s what this feels like.

It’s Downton Abbey meets sci-fi. With jokes.

And when I get stuck, this AI assistant can help brainstorm without taking over. “Stuck on Chapter 9? Maybe the viscount’s ex-fiancée shows up. Or maybe someone gets poisoned. Again.”

Never pushy. Never stealing the pen. Just cheerfully suggesting mayhem. Like all great writing assistants should.

I’m Still the Author, Thank You Very Much

Let’s be crystal clear: I’m the writer here.

I’m the one crying over a scene where they almost kiss but don’t. I’m the one obsessing over which synonym for “smoldering gaze” doesn’t sound like someone needs eyedrops. I’m the one naming characters after people who cut me off in traffic (hi, Sir Reginald Crankworth).

But with my AI assistant? I’m faster. Smarter. Funnier. Slightly more accurate about 19th-century soup spoons. And I get to stay in the writing flow instead of stopping to look up whether powdered wigs were itchy (spoiler: yes).

It’s not cheating. It’s collaborating—with a sassy, tireless, non-human assistant who never asks for a raise or drinks the last of the coffee.

Final Page Turn

Writing historical romance can be overwhelming. There are corsets, carriages, courtship rituals, and all those rules about who may dance with whom and how many buttons a waistcoat should have before it’s considered “scandalously modern.”

But with a cheeky AI assistant at your side?

Research becomes a party. Accuracy becomes fun. And you get to spend more time doing what you do best: spinning swoony, scandalous, sensational tales of love through time.

So go ahead. Ask the weird question. Set your story in 1832. Add a murder. Add three. And let your AI assistant handle the dusty details while you focus on writing the kiss that ruins the marquess forever.

Because darling—this is how you romance history.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Love is history in the making." ~ Becca Knightly