Some of the most important things in life begin as something small and uncertain. A packet of seeds. A first chapter. A conversation. Standing in the garden this spring, watching green shoots push through the soil, reminded me that growth is often invisible until suddenly it isn’t—and that the things we plant today may become far more than we ever imagined.
I had to stare at the photo for a while. At first, it didn’t make sense—farmland, maybe, or some kind of industrial grid. Then the scale began to sink in. The repetition. The roads. And then came the realization that stopped me: they’re tents. Hundreds of thousands of them, housing millions of people in a place I barely think about—proof that even now, in a supposedly connected world, vast and important things can exist just outside our awareness.
Fourteen years ago, I shared a snapshot of my writing desk—and a surprising number of you still remember it! That desk is still with me, but the world around it has changed: the landline is gone, the monitors have multiplied, and only Strider remains of the original furry trio. This year, I revisited that 2011 post with a photo tour of my current workspace, the oddball trinkets that inspire me, and a glimpse into how I really write now—recliner and all. Spoiler: dusty fantasy author chaos is alive and well.
From The Productive Indie Fiction Writer: Do you ever catch yourself thinking, “I’ll never sell,” or “I’m not talented enough”?
