In which having an idea for a book is like waiting for a connection in an airport
We're far enough into lockdown and having the border shut that I am starting to miss some completely ridiculous things. Like, I don't just miss my friends any more, I miss all the terrible parts of traveling to see them. Not so much getting up at 4am to drive two hours to the airport, but the quiet self-made island of wearing good headphones in a departure lounge, and tracking down all my favourite snacks in a Hudson News with such a generic layout, I forget where I am. It turns out, I did a lot of thinking in airports.
I was in O'Hare when I had the idea for Aetherbound. I wrote the emotional climax of the book down on an Air Canada napkin that I had in the pocket of my coat. Yes, the components of the book had been floating around (a girl named Pendt who I met on I-81 on the way to Homer, NY; my general dissatisfaction with how the politics on Game of Thrones was going; bees recognizing royalty and a girl who undramatically slammed a period pad onto a bleeding wound). Before I left Kansas, I had texted my agent about Jupiter Ascending, and I read his message when I landed. I told him I was going to steal it. And in that moment, I knew how.
Airports are great/the worst because they are supremely functional. It's a bonkers combination of nothing mattering and literally everything mattering A LOT. Sure, they're uncomfortable and under-bathroomed, but the fact that they function at ALL is kind of a miracle of modern society. So many people have to work together, and there are so many moving pieces. And that's before you factor in the weather AT OTHER AIRPORTS.
(Sidebar: my 21st birthday was basically ruined because it rained in Chicago, delaying my brother's plane, and making it impossible to go see Revenge of the Sith on release day. I'm still mad!)
Anyway, airports are great places for thinking because you're never going to see any of these people again (unless you're on the con circuit and following Karl Urban around North America for the season, in which case, God bless us, everyone). I like reading eARCs on the actual plane, but airport lounges are great places to scratch things down on pieces of paper. It works for me, especially, because my memory is tied into being able to place the moment. When I wrote that Aetherbound napkin, I was sitting up against the window (my phone was dying and I needed the plug) across from one of the popcorn places, and the smell was like heaven.
It's quality daydreaming, really. Nothing matters and literally everything matters.
It's hard to do that in a one bedroom apartment. It's hard to tie idea to experience when you're not having any of the latter. Agatha Christie always talked about thinking while she was doing the dishes, and we ALL know that everyone does their best thinking/singing in the shower, but it's not unique. It's not something I can pin down in the way I remember looking up at that dinosaur skeleton and thinking "we don't know what you looked like, but I can build on you anyway". I never used to get up in the middle of the night write things down because that wasn't when I had ideas. Now it is, and it's REALLY ANNOYING.
When I was on tour for Queen's Peril, I was flying from DC to LA. It was an Alaskan Air flight. I felt like spoiling myself, so I went up to ask if I could be upgraded, and the dude said I had enough points to be upgraded automatically (yeah, Star Alliance!), and I was all "YES, EXCELLENT", and then the flight got cancelled. I had to change airports and I BARELY made it to my event in time (I had commissioned a dress. I HAD BEEN GROWING MY HAIR FOR TWO YEARS FOR A BRAID CROWN). It is, frankly, miraculous that I can CROSS THE CONTINENT in a day, with my backup plan. As I was willing the plane to fly faster, I thought about how ridiculous it was that I was going coast to coast and might be ten minutes late.
Writing Aetherbound felt like that a lot. I did, like, four years of prep, so much thinking and plotting, and every time I tried to make the connection, it was cancelled. It kind of sucked. But I wanted to do it (I mean, in addition to being under contract and already having been paid). So I made a new path. And it hurt. But I did it. Coast to coast, ten minutes late.
I'm the kind of person who goes to the gate, makes sure it, you know, exists in this realm, and then backtracks to get food and use the bathroom. I like to know where I'm going. Or, at least know the farthest I *can* go, before someone else takes over. There's a weird bit of surrender in air travel. You pack and you plan and you follow your itinerary, but at most points, you're at the whims of other people. I like it, because once I've done everything I can, anything that goes wrong is Not My Fault.
Ideas are great. We need them. We need them like we need more charging stations at the international gates in Chicago. They aren't the end of anything, but they're a vital component, and when one link on the chair falters the whole system goes down. When you have a massive lifestyle change, as many of us did, it's hard remember that ideas are still coming, they're just showing up differently. You're allowed to give yourself some time to recognize what they look like now, and to work out new ways to turn those ideas into pages.
I've had what I think is the coolest idea I've ever had in lockdown. No, I will not tell you what it is. But I am super excited to write it. Would I have had it, if I hadn't been missing the liminal spaces of traveling so much? Who the heck knows. It's not important. I would have had another idea, and it would have been just as much fun. The important thing is that I recognized it, wrote it down, and started to let it steep. Someday, getting that idea will be a story, too, like the napkin. I'll tell it at conventions.
The thing about air travel is that we haven't always done it. On the scale of human history, it's a blip on the radar. The elaborate system of cooperation we've built around these flying machines is beautiful and intricate, but it's new. And someday, we might build something else.
But connections? Meeting places and exchanging ideas? Networks that cross continents and language barriers? This we have always done. I know you'll find your way.
AETHERBOUND comes out on May 25, 2021, and is available for pre-order now.