I spend most of my time chained to my desk. The chain is invisible, I admit, yet it binds me and my imagination so completely that I find it impossible to think of my life without my beloved desk.
Sometimes I view my desk as world of sorts. It has its inhabitants, its structures, even a clock-tower. It has a couple of magic rocks, a stack of diaries for my prose and poetry, and half a dozen pen-stands.
This is the desk that saw me writing Viral Sin and revisiting The Tweak. This is the desk where I’m writing my next book.
So here’s a part of it. I shot this picture about a fortnight ago. It’s not a great image – it doesn’t show the full extent of the ecosystem that thrives on my desk…but I’ll keep that for another day 🙂
Before I leave…
Become a good storyteller and the stories will write themselves.