"Everything I've ever written is somewhere. 'Somewhere' is the problem." — Dad
The Scattered Decade
Here is the real, unglamorous problem Lantern was built for. A person writes for ten years. The writing doesn't accumulate in one tidy place — it lands wherever the writing happened: a guides folder, three book projects, a pile of published essays, a vault of market theses, a manuscript in its own directory, a website's content tree. Six, eight, a dozen homes, each with its own structure, each perfectly reasonable on its own. Together they form a body of work that is real, valuable, and effectively unsearchable as a whole.
The Obvious Answer Is a Trap
The instinct is immediate and wrong: "gather them into one folder." Copy everything into ~/all-my-writing/ and point a search tool at that. It feels like progress. It is a trap with three teeth:
- It breaks every reference. Links, imports, and build tools that pointed at the original locations now point at nothing.
- It creates a second copy that drifts. You edit the original; the gathered copy goes stale. Now you have two truths and no way to know which is current.
- It reorganizes living repos to serve an index. The tail wags the dog: working projects get bent out of shape so a search tool can be lazy.
Moving files to make them findable is like tearing pages out of your books to put them all on one shelf. Now they're together, and now they're ruined.
The Real Answer, in One Sentence
Lantern's answer to the gathering problem: the originals stay exactly where they live, and a registry plus a preservation store becomes the one place. You declare where your writing already is; the engine walks those places, reads them, indexes them, and never touches them. The files never know it happened. The gathering is real; the disruption is zero. That's the whole bet — and the rest of this quest is what it takes to make that bet pay.