Over the past few days I’ve been doing an epic intervention in my study. Not “cleaning my office” but “rediscovering my study” (office doesn’t sound nearly so civilized or literary as study). I had considered calling it the library but I’m in the process of reducing the number of books so library would be pushing it.

Well, that’s the plan.

Anyway, I essentially took absolutely everything out of the room, dusted and polished, reduced the book population by twenty-five percent, emptied and reorganized the drawers, evicted some furniture, hung some art, and reclaimed the space as a creative sanctuary where my work will find a new lease on life.

What I need when I’m writing is an environment that is heavy, or suggestive – redolent may be the word – with layers of inspiration. Windows with a beautiful view, books by authors I admire, reference materials, photographs, works of art, music, an easy chair where I can read…

I can sense the stories hidden just below the surface, bubbling up from the photographs, the novels, rocks from our travels, my guitars, my cricket bat, carved figures from Africa, the teacher-of-the-year golden apple, the yamaka I “borrowed” from the WesternWall in Jerusalem, the box that holds paraphernalia from my schoolboy days in England, my dad’s old steamer trunk that was in turn his father’s steamer trunk…

My study is loaded, redolent with story. My life is rich with story too. I feel this urgency to live it well, to let it soak in, and then to share it in a way that will inspire the world to engage this Great Adventure with passion, faith, light, and love.

My study is loaded, redolent with story. My life is rich with story too. I feel this urgency to live it well, to let it soak in, and then to share it in a way that will inspire the world to engage this Great Adventure with passion, faith, light, and love.

Above all, love – without it there is no story to tell.

– DEREK