The Seed Principle: Why Your Project Needs to Start Smaller Than You Think

I planted tomato seeds last spring.

Each seed was tiny. Maybe two millimeters across. I could barely see it in my palm.

But here's what hit me: that seed was completely focused. It could only grow one thing. Not tomatoes and cucumbers and peppers. Just tomatoes.

One seed. One plant. One outcome.

And it worked because of that focus.


The Pattern I Keep Missing

I keep trying to start projects like I'm planting an entire garden at once.

My novel needs three intertwining plotlines, complex world-building, a dozen fully-realized characters, and themes about identity and belonging.

My business needs a website, a newsletter, a podcast, three service offerings, and a social media presence on four platforms.

My morning routine needs meditation, journaling, exercise, reading, and meal prep.

No wonder nothing grows.

I'm trying to plant a forest when I should be planting a seed.


What Seeds Actually Do

A tomato seed doesn't become a full plant overnight. And it definitely doesn't try to become multiple plants.

It starts with one root. Then one shoot. Then one leaf.

Everything builds from that single, focused beginning.

The seed doesn't worry about producing tomatoes yet. It focuses on becoming a seedling first.

That focus is what allows it to grow at all.


Where This Shows Up

In writing:

I wanted to write an epic fantasy novel. Multiple POVs, intricate magic system, sprawling world.

I was paralyzed for months.

Then I started with one seed: "What if a character discovered they could see lies?"

That's it. One focused idea. I let it grow from there. The magic system emerged from that one ability. The world-building served that concept. The other characters appeared because they needed to.

The novel grew because I planted a seed, not a forest.

In business:

My friend tried to launch with five different service packages. Confused everyone, including herself. Got no clients.

She started over with one seed: "I help writers finish their first draft in 90 days."

One thing. Specific. Focused.

Six months later, she's fully booked. Now she's adding other services—but only after the first seed grew into something strong.

In habits:

I tried to overhaul my entire morning. Wake up earlier, journal, meditate, exercise, read, plan my day.

Lasted three days.

Started over with one seed: "Write for 15 minutes before checking my phone."

That's it. That one seed grew into a morning routine over six months. But it only worked because I started with something so small and focused it couldn't fail.


Why We Resist Starting Small

Starting with a seed feels too small. It feels like it won't be enough.

We look at other people's gardens and forget they started with seeds too. We only see the full plants.

We want to skip to the impressive part. The finished novel. The thriving business. The perfect morning routine.

But seeds don't work that way. You can't skip the focused beginning.


The Seed Principle

When you're starting something new, ask yourself:

"What's my seed?"

Not your vision. Not your end goal. Your seed.

The smallest, most focused version of what you're trying to grow.

For a novel: One character's problem. One question. One scene.

For a business: One person you help. One problem you solve. One offer.

For a habit: One action. One time. One trigger.

Plant that. Let it grow. Let it tell you what comes next.

The tomato seed doesn't need to know about the entire plant. It just needs to focus on that first root.


What Happens Next

Here's the beautiful part: seeds know what to do.

You don't have to force the growth. You just have to stay focused on the one thing you planted.

Water it. Give it light. Show up consistently.

The complexity comes later. The branches, the fruit, the full garden—that emerges from focused growth, not from trying to plant everything at once.

Your novel doesn't need three plotlines right now. It needs one good scene.

Your business doesn't need five offerings. It needs one person to say yes.

Your morning doesn't need to be perfect. It needs 15 minutes of showing up.


Try this: Look at what you're trying to start right now.

What's your seed? The smallest, most focused version?

Plant just that. See what grows.

What's the one seed you're planting this week?