Physics, Magic, and the Power of Curiosity: The Origins of Kate Gordon

The Secret to Writing Characters That...

Physics, Magic, and the Power of Curiosity: The Origins of Kate Gordon

Before Merlin ever washed ashore on Fincayra, there was a brave, curious girl named Kate Gordon.

She wasn’t the first character I brought to life, but she was the first to find her way into the hands of readers. And she became the pivotal character of my Heartlight saga: Heartlight, The Ancient One, and The Merlin Effect. These stories may span distant galaxies and ancient forests, but at their core, they’re about one girl’s journey to ask big questions and seek out meaningful truths.

Kate remains one of the most personally important characters I’ve ever written. Her curiosity, resilience, and compassion not only shaped the worlds I was building, but also shaped me as a writer… and as a person.

A Character Born of Curiosity and a Newborn Daughter

When I started writing Heartlight, I didn’t know if the main character would be a boy or a girl. I only knew the story would center around a young person who finds themselves at the edge of the known universe, and discovers that even the smallest choices can have cosmic consequences.

Around the same time, my wife and I welcomed our first child — our daughter, Denali. That experience made something click. I wanted this story, this journey of personal power and discovery, to speak to her one day. And I wanted the main character to be someone who reflected that strength. So, Kate became a girl.

That decision was the easy part. The hard part? Writing her voice.

As a man in my late 30s, I had to dig deep to find the inner voice of a 12-year-old girl… and do it in a way that felt authentic. In those early days, I’ll admit, Kate didn’t sound quite right. My first attempt felt like a boy with a braid.

So I stopped. I started over.

I interviewed my wife, my nieces, and my cousins about their lives at that age. I asked questions, but more importantly, I listened. Then I set aside the manuscript and wrote an entire biography of Kate: who she was, what she feared, what she loved. Only after that did I return to the story. And when I did, something had shifted. I could finally hear her voice.

That voice would go on to shape three full novels, and many of the characters I would write in the years to come.

Science, Magic, and the Spaces In Between

Kate begins Heartlight as a curious young girl fascinated by science, especially physics. But when her grandfather, a physicist working on a mysterious project, disappears, Kate finds herself pulled into an interstellar journey that challenges her view of reality.

Throughout her adventures, she discovers something profound: science and magic aren’t opposites. They’re both languages we use to understand the universe.

Some truths are revealed through equations. Others come through wonder. But both require one essential quality: curiosity.

That’s something I’ve always believed. I grew up inspired by naturalists like John Muir and Rachel Carson, and then, in college, discovered great fantasy storytellers like Tolkien and Le Guin. For me, storytelling has always lived in the space between data and dreams. Kate lives in that space, too.

The Tree That Told a Story

Of all Kate’s adventures, The Ancient One is perhaps the most personal for me.

That book was born from a real experience: a solo hike in the redwoods of California, where I encountered the largest, most awe-inspiring tree I had ever seen. I was so moved, I stayed the night with that tree — no tent, no food, just me and the towering stillness of the forest.

I remember wondering, “What stories could this tree tell?” What had it witnessed over two thousand years of existing on this planet of ours?

That question became the seed from which The Ancient One grew, where Kate discovers a hidden grove and journeys back in time to an ancient tribe whose way of life is deeply entwined with the natural world. She comes to understand the redwoods not as scenery, but as characters — wise, breathing, and connected to everything.

Nature, in that book, isn’t just the backdrop. It’s the teacher. The keeper of memory. The guide.

And Kate? She listens.

A Hero in Her Own Right

When I wrote these stories in the early 1990s, female protagonists in fantasy were often relegated to supporting roles — the sidekick, the love interest, or the damsel to be rescued.

Kate was none of those things. She was the hero.

She wasn’t perfect, and didn’t have superpowers. But she was smart. Brave. Vulnerable. Determined to do the right thing, even when it was hard.

I’ve been honored over the years to receive letters and emails from readers who connected with Kate — some as children, some as parents sharing the books with their own kids. I’ve even seen artwork inspired by her journeys. But what moves me most is the reminder that stories connect us — reader and writer — in a journey we take together.

In many ways, Kate exists not just on the page, but in the shared space between imagination and memory. She lives in both our minds — yours and mine. And that, to me, is real magic.

What Kate Taught Me (and Still Teaches Me Today)

In writing Kate, I learned that the most important thing a writer can do is listen. To the world, to nature, to people whose experiences are different from our own — and to the quiet voice of the character waiting to emerge.

I also learned how hard, and how essential, it is to write characters who feel true. Not idealized or polished, but real and as full of contradiction as the rest of us.

Kate taught me how to do that. And she paved the way for many more characters in my books, including Rhia, Hallia, Ellie, Atlanta — and yes, even Merlin himself.

Kate may not be a wizard. She doesn’t hold a staff or recite ancient spells. But she’s every bit as magical.

Her magic is in her questions. Her empathy. Her belief that the universe, in all its vastness, can still be understood — and loved.

If I could offer just one takeaway from her adventures, it would be this:
Curiosity is its own kind of light. It can lead you to the stars… and right back to the roots of an ancient tree.

And sometimes, if you’re really listening, you might just hear the tree speak back.