My car broke down on the creepiest road in town. It was out on the edge of civilization, past the chemical plant, out where the broken corn stalks stuck up like yellow bones from in a shitty graveyard. The way I saw it, I had two options.

One, I could use my cell phone to call my buddy Logan to come out and get me and wait for him to arrive. And get horribly murdered by an ax-wielding maniac.

Two, I could call Logan and walk to the nearest source of bright, scouring light, a gas station about two miles back.

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Craig had to do laundry. He hated doing laundry. It was always boring.

Even in his new house, with its new washing machine, and new dryer, or new clothesline out back in the idyllic paradise of his new yard, he thought it was boring.

Until he tried to do it.

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As of last Monday, Codex Nekromantia was completed in all of its forms when I posted the final entry.

Whew.

Don’t worry, I took a break of a few hours between finishing Codex and gearing up on the next project. A few short, horrible hours. I’ve dropped hints about the new novel in interviews and drunken tweets, but I’m happy to announce not only the subject matter but also the posting schedule.

The novel concerns the waning Belle Époque and the thunderous clash of World War I, back in those heady days at the dawn of the Atomic Age.

Did I mention that the novel is alternate history?

But, by god, there’s a lot of regular history to be read first so that my history is alternate and not just garbage. I’ve spent several years researching the era, and I’m continuing to scour the historical record for the rest of this year while I finish the outline. What does that mean for you, dear reader?

First, that you can expect the beginning of the new novel on a Monday in January. That feels like a long way off, but it’ll come sooner than I think.

Second, the chapters will come less regularly than Codex, on a monthly schedule, but what they lack in frequency they’ll make up for in girth.

Third, the publishing schedule of the Guide to Moral Living in Examples remains unchanged: piping hot updates will still scald your brain on Wednesdays and Fridays.

The Trident missile snaked through the thin layers of atmosphere and up into low orbit.

It had breached the surface of the ocean only minutes earlier, pushed out of the womb of a nuclear submarine and into the birthing pool of the Pacific ocean. The captain of the submarine had dropped his novel when the signal to launch came through. After going through the necessary confirmation procedures, the crew didn’t waste any time.

Casimir stood on the steps in front of the Museum and watched the star of nuclear death on the horizon. It grew brighter and brighter, even in the light of day.

“Shouldn’t we go inside?” Casimir had asked.

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“Here’s the world’s greatest guitar, but don’t play the sixth string,” said Mossito, the world’s greatest guitar maker.

“Why not?” asked Buzz, the world’s worst guitar player. He was, however, very talented at teasing his hair into the world’s best birds nest, and finding the world’s worst suits at any thrift store that he entered.

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General Radcliffe did not waste any time.

“Get behind the tanks,” he said, then ran towards his own while bellowing to his troops. “Pretend that we just got indoor plumbing and its an old wooden shithouse. Burn it to the ground!”

The hatch slammed shut with a clang and the tanks rolled towards Ossemander. It wriggled backwards and prepared to pounce. Dan hobbled towards the doors to the Museum.

“Who is that?” Casimir asked.

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