How many facts do you need to get right in a novel?

A few years ago, I told a friend in New York that I was about to leave for Namibia to do some research for a new novel. She replied, “Why don’t you just buy a travel guide and leave the rest to fantasy?”

In my new novel, which I’m about to finish, some scenes take place in a motel in Brooklyn.

I’ve never been to a motel in Brooklyn. Most of my European friends stay in hotels in Manhattan when they visit New York.

So I searched the Internet, and I picked a motel in Brooklyn that seemed to be perfect for my new novel.

But last week, I got a bit jittery. Why should I rely solely on pictures from the Internet? If I travel to Namibia for research, why not go from my apartment in Manhattan to this particular motel in Brooklyn to see for myself how it looks.

On a balmy afternoon, I went to the motel in Brooklyn.

It was a bit seedier than I’d expected, based on the pictures from the website. But in this case, seediness suited me fine.

I walked straight to the front desk.

The front desk manager, who sat behind glass, probably protection against robbery and holdups, was in his late fifties.

“How can I help you?” he asked.

I could have said that I was a novelist doing research, but I thought that would cause confusion and suspicion.

So I said, “I have some friends from Europe who would like to stay here.”

“For how long?” the front desk manager asked.

“Well,” I answered, “let’s say for two weeks.”

The man looked flabbergasted. “For two weeks!” he said. “That’s long. Then they get a discount. If they want, they can also rent a room for half a day—or just a couple of hours.”

“Can I see a room?” I asked.

The man nodded.

Another man with several towels in his hands escorted me upstairs. He showed me two kinds of rooms. One was small, and the other was even smaller.

Although the rooms were clean, I doubted that many people stayed more than a few hours.

In the lobby, the front desk manager ticked against the glass.

“Do you like the room?” he asked.

“Very much,” I said. “I’ll call you.”

A couple of days ago, I had drinks with a good friend of mine. She knows a bit about the characters in my new novel. I told her about my trip to the motel. She answered, “But this character would never go to a motel in Brooklyn. He would go to Staten Island or Queens.”

I thought about it. She was right.

Next week, I will visit a motel in Queens.

If my new novel fails, I can always write a travel guide titled Cheap Motels in Brooklyn, Queens and Staten Island.