What does an ordinary working day look like for an award-winning novelist? For Mohsen Fallahian — the Emirati author behind Mirage of the Sandstorm, The Silent Minaret, and Whispers Beneath the Palm Trees — the answer is not a dramatic tale of feverish inspiration. It's something quieter and, in its way, more instructive: a day built on ritual, discipline, and a deep respect for the slow work of storytelling. Follow him from morning to evening, and you begin to see how a distinctive body of literature is actually made — not in bursts of genius, but in the patient accumulation of ordinary hours.

Morning: Coffee and the Blank Page

The day begins, fittingly, with gahwa. For Fallahian, Arabic coffee is far more than a caffeine ritual — it's a tone-setter. The careful preparation and unhurried pouring embody the patience he brings to his prose, and the cup carries echoes of the majlis gatherings of his childhood, where he first fell in love with storytelling. It is, in a sense, how he summons the right frame of mind before a single word is written.

Then comes the notebook. Fallahian is famously devoted to drafting by hand, and the early hours — when the mind is freshest and the city quietest — are reserved for new writing. He believes writing by hand slows the mind, allowing sentences to find their rhythm before the speed of a keyboard can flatten them. There is no rush to fill pages. The goal is not volume but truth: a few well-shaped paragraphs that actually work.

Midday: The Discipline of the Craft

If mornings belong to creation, the middle of the day belongs to craft. This is when the journalist's training resurfaces. Years spent writing on deadline at Al Khaleej Gazette instilled in Fallahian a discipline that outlasts inspiration — the habit of showing up and producing whether or not the muse cooperates.

Midday is often given to the less glamorous but essential work of revision. Here the editor's eye takes over — the same critical instinct he developed as an acquisitions editor, now turned on his own drafts. He reads without sentimentality, cutting what doesn't serve the story, tightening what sags, and refining the lyrical passages until precision and beauty coexist. This is where the polish that readers admire is actually forged: not in the first flush of writing, but in the patient reworking that follows.

Afternoon: Reading, Research, and Reflection

No writer produces in a vacuum, and Fallahian's afternoons often turn toward input rather than output. His scholarly background — a Master's in Arabic Literature focused on fusing classical forms with modern techniques — means research is woven into his practice, especially for historically grounded work like The Silent Minaret.

This is also time for reading widely across the Arabic tradition and beyond, and for the reflection that feeds his essays and advocacy. Fallahian describes the writer's first job as listening, and the afternoon is when much of that listening happens — to other writers, to the currents of the region's literature, and to the ideas he'll later explore in his own work.

Evening: Mentorship and the Wider Mission

For Fallahian, the writing life extends well beyond his own manuscripts, and evenings often turn outward. He mentors aspiring Emirati authors through creative writing workshops, sharing the hard-won lessons of his career and encouraging young writers to mine their own family histories and folktales.

Evenings may also be devoted to his podcast, Tales from the Gulf, where he explores folklore, contemporary fiction, and the craft of storytelling. In a pleasing symmetry, the day that began with the private ritual of coffee and notebook often ends with the communal work of passing stories on — the listener who became a storyteller now creating new listeners in turn.

The Rhythm Behind the Books

What stands out about Fallahian's day is its balance. Creation and revision, solitude and community, tradition and craft — each has its place, and none is allowed to crowd out the others. The romantic rituals of coffee and handwriting create the conditions for depth; the journalist's discipline and editor's rigor ensure the books actually get finished.

The Lesson in the Routine

There is a quiet lesson here for any aspiring writer. Fallahian's output isn't the product of rare inspiration but of a sustainable rhythm — showing up daily, honoring the craft, staying rooted in ritual, and giving back to the community that shaped him.

The magic of Mohsen Fallahian's fiction, it turns out, is not magic at all. It is the visible result of an invisible discipline: one handwritten page, one slow cup of coffee, and one honored story at a time, repeated faithfully until a body of work takes shape.