Celica Anfiteatro

We’re in a window. A narrow one. And it’s closing. Not the window for survival—humans are resilient, we’ll likely persist in some form. But the window for transformation. For shifting the paradigm before we’re forced to rebuild from rubble. For choosing a different path while we still have the collective capacity to choose. I can feel it narrowing. Maybe you can too. The Signs Are Everywhere The systems that structure our lives are visibly failing. Not theoretically, not in some distant...

The Brutal Math Let’s start with an uncomfortable truth about traditional epic writing: Year 1-2: Research, outlining, world-building Year 3-5: First draft (50,000 words/year if you’re disciplined) Year 6: Revision Year 7: Agent search Year 8: Publisher search Year 9: Editorial process Year 10: Publication Ten years. From conception to readers’ hands. If you’re lucky. If you don’t burn out. If the market doesn’t shift. If your life doesn’t intervene. Meanwhile, the climate crisis you’re...

I had a dream this morning. The kind that sticks with you long after you've woken, a vivid landscape of strange materials and purposeful action. In this dream, my mouth was filled with a thick, black gunk, like tar. The more I tried to remove it, the more it seemed to multiply, a seemingly endless, sticky burden. Then, something shifted. The tar began to soften, morphing into heavy, voluminous clay. The relentless expansion slowed, and a new possibility emerged: shaping. Finally, the clay...