What is the Gordian?

Writers like to talk about how nutty their search histories are. How we’re probably all on FBI watch lists and our spouses would run in fear if it weren’t for private histories and stuff like that. I always figured it was mostly self-serving horseshit to make people who sat in chairs all day long feel like badasses.

Out of curiosity then, I looked up my own search history. (I never delete that kind of thing. I trust Lena not to run away if she finds out who she actually married thirty years after the fact. No one wants to pay palimony to a deadbeat writer ex-husband.) What follows is my top nine most recent searches, in reverse order.

1. How many red shirts died in TOS? – 55
2. How is Masonite made? – soaked particles of wood are pulverized and boiled, then pressure baked. No adhesives required.
3. What is a pudding keycap? – A transparent/translucent walled keycap, capped with a solid top.
4. Who is Death Sentence? – MMA fighter famous for ending bouts in under two seconds. His win rate goes down dramatically after that.
5. What is a group of crocodiles called? – in the water it’s a float, on land it’s a bask.
6. Can lightning start a fire in heavy rain? – Hell yeah it can.
7. What is the future of home siding materials? – Climate specific materials with solar collection and robotic/AI installations.
8. What does it feel like to take heroin? – Euphoria (happiness), no pain, heaviness in extremities, slowed breathing. That last one is the kicker if you OD.
9. How likely is it to survive an assault with a piece of rebar? – Not super likely, but possible if you just get stabbed someplace that doesn’t immediately murder you.

(Okay. Maybe they have a point.)

All of the above except for the one about pudding is for the new book I’m currently working on, The Gordian. The story follows a man who carves out his own career a hundred and seventy years in the future, seducing and marrying the ex-wives of extremely wealthy men so they’ll lose their alimony. (He starts out as kind of an ass.)

Climate change has been solved by accident, with the creation and unwitting distribution of the “Sinker Virus,” which has caused certain types of trees to grow taller than skyscrapers, mostly invulnerable to harm, “sinking” all the atmosphere’s free-floating carbon. Mankind has lost most of their purchase on the planet, and the remaining cities are run by hyper-efficient AIs. 

Our book takes place well away from these oases of relative safety, in a swamp village called Trolley Stop, where virally mutated crocodiles, Amazonian river otters, king monkeys, and “ghosts,” compete with our hero’s newest divorcee for most horrible threat to life and happiness. (She wins.)

Until recently I never would have been able to write this book. In fact, before last year, I was only writing one book a year and it was always a Misplaced Mercenaries or Adventures novel. I had responsibilities to that project I was glad to maintain, but there was simply no time for a one-off sci-fi book.

Then I made a discovery. Well, I didn’t make the discovery. I heard about it from Stephen King, and who knows where he got it. Instead of requiring fully open days in which I would try to write furiously, more often than not derailed by the ordinary tides of life, I opted instead to write to an easily obtainable goal each and every day. For this book and the two before it, I’ve written 1,400 words a day, then fucked off to clean the kitchen, or go to the store, do laundry, handle appointments, or whatever else would have previously borked my whole day.

It is amazing. I feel so much happier each and every single day, and this will be my third book this year. (The first is coming out in a few months, the second a year from then, and the one I’m working on now will be …later? I don’t know. Don’t pressure me, man.)

Who knew Stephen King knew how to write a book?

Anyway, thanks to my “discovery,” I will have more books for you to read. I’m excited about it, and I feel like I am finally doing this right. (Imposter Syndrome is for real, y’all.) 

Incidentally, the search about pudding keycaps has nothing to do with killing anyone, and is about the keyboard I’m writing the books on, rather than the books themselves. 

To my surprise and dismay, they are not made of actual pudding.