The Weirdest Things I’ve Googled As a Writer

If there’s one thing I’ve learned as a thriller writer, it’s that your search history will absolutely make you look like a serial killer.

Last week, my mom borrowed my laptop to look up a banana bread recipe. She clicked on the Chrome icon, and there it was—my most recent search: “how long does it take for a body to decompose in Pacific Northwest soil?” She slowly closed my laptop, handed it back, and just said, “Honey, I’m using my phone instead.”

I tried explaining it was for the burial scene in chapter twelve. She nodded too quickly and changed the subject.

The thing is, as a writer, you can’t just make this stuff up. Well, you can, but readers know when details feel off. That tiny voice in their head whispers, “That’s not how blood spatter works,” and suddenly they’re out of the story.

So yes, I’ve googled some truly disturbing things in the name of authenticity. My personal favorite was trying to figure out if you could identify someone from a partial fingerprint on a wine glass. Turns out you can! Which led to another search about how to remove fingerprints from glass (white vinegar works, apparently), which probably put me on some watchlist.

There was also that deep dive into “signs someone is stalking you but you haven’t noticed yet” for A Glimpse of Us. That one had me looking over my shoulder at coffee shops for weeks. I started noticing how easy it would be to track someone’s routine—same coffee shop every morning, same parking spot, same walking route. We’re all so predictable, and that’s terrifying once you really think about it.

My roommate in college once walked in when I was researching “most painless poisons” and just slowly backed out of the room. We had a good laugh about it later, but I could tell she checked her food carefully for a few days after.

I’ve learned to warn new boyfriends before they look over my shoulder while I’m working. “Just so you know, I’m not planning to murder anyone. It’s for a book.” The good ones find it interesting. The great ones suggest even better methods. (My ex actually had some concerning knowledge about hiding evidence that I definitely used in my last book. Should I have been worried about that? Probably.)

The truly awkward moments come when you forget what you’ve been researching and then have a conversation with someone normal. Like when I asked my dental hygienist if teeth really melt at certain temperatures or just crack, and she stopped mid-cleaning to stare at me. Or when I asked the guy at the hardware store which rope would be best for restraining someone. He looked genuinely frightened until I blurted out “IT’S FOR A BOOK!”

Sometimes I wonder if there’s some government employee assigned to monitor thriller writers’ search histories. If so, I hope they’re having fun with gems like:

• “Can you die from a paper cut?” (technically yes, but it’s complicated)
• “How to break into a house without leaving evidence” (asking for a character, I promise)
• “Fastest acting sedatives in coffee” (sorry, barista who saw my screen)
• “How to tell if you’re being followed” (mostly because I freaked myself out)

My personal rule is to always follow up disturbing searches with something innocent, like “cute puppies” or “best chocolate chip cookie recipe,” just to balance things out. I’m not sure that’s how algorithms work, but it makes me feel better.

So if we ever share a WiFi network and you see a search for “best place to hide a body in Spokane,” just know I’m working. Probably.

And to my FBI agent: I’m just a writer with an active imagination. The bodies are all fictional. The detailed knowledge of how to clean blood off hardwood floors is purely professional.

I hope.