Creating Your Writing Garden

I’m thrilled to be the newest member of PFHT.  It’s wonderful being associated with such talented writers. Hope you all enjoy my first blog.

As we near the end of the summer season, it’s also the end of our annual vegetable garden. I think back to spring, a time of rebirth, growth and promise. A time for planting.

Truth be told, I have a love-hate relationship with gardening. Sometimes it’s the same with my writing. I want those tasty, organic veggies, the same as I want a completed, page turning, keeper of a manuscript. But the process…

First you must prepare the soil. That’s the brainstorming. While in gardening it’s the most difficult part for me, in writing it’s the most fun. My family and I moved to Georgia six years ago. They don’t have soil in the south. They have clay. And the rocks… after six years of tilling the same patch of ground, you’d think I wouldn’t find any more rocks. But somehow new ones appear every year.

The first year of “growing”, we produced two uneditable tomatoes. So putting on my Martha Stewart hat, I stopped my project to do some much needed research. It’s considered research in the writing world as well. I read that raised beds were the in thing. Dear hubby went with me to Home Depot to buy the needed supplies, some garden pavers for the hill and two by eights for the raised part. We tilled and threw out a five gallon bucket of rocks. We added a bag of Miracle Grow and cow manure. The miracle grow represents your loving, nurturing critique partners who encourage your new brilliant idea. The manure, well… those are the doubters, you know them… the ones who poo-poo your newly formed, fragile brainchild. The ones who tell you X, Y or Z won’t work. Dear hubby complained the first time we brought manure in a bag. Where we came from, you just went down the road and asked the farmer and it was free. Finally, we had the right mix of red clay streaked with brown, I hoped.

With determination, I decide to forge ahead, despite the doubters. I got excited as I physically planted the seeds into my freshly prepared ground. This is when we actually start the writing process, words to paper or typing on the keyboard. For seven to ten days, I watch that patch of earth for the sprouts to break through. The first five pages, leading into a whole chapter. There’s nothing more satisfying than witnessing your hard work come to fruition. If no rain falls, I water the seedlings with care. Meaning I go back and make sure I have all the elements needed.

Then the weeds come into to play. My own doubts. Ruthlessly, I pull the buggers up, trying to rip out the entire root. Still new weeds pop up. These doubts steal time, energy, nutrients and water from my babies. They must be eliminated.

Next the blooms come, a pretty little flower to show you, yeah, you’re headed in the right direction. Finally a miniature version of the veggie forms, inspiring you to keep at it. This is where your character develops and your plot takes shape. You’re actually getting somewhere. Continuing to water, weed and sometimes feed, I watch as my characters tell their story. If disease creeps in, I prune. Editing can be painful but necessary.

Another year, another bag of Miracle Grow and manure. Tilling and sorting out the new rocks. About the third year, I think we actually produced an editable tomato or two and a few green beans came off the vine. But the cucumbers were balls of a green hue so light they were almost white. By year five, we had the routine down, and a pretty nice return on our labor and worry. We could share the bounty with our neighbors and friends. Here’s the courageous part, sending your baby out. You pick the most beautiful work, the one you’ve slaved and sweated over, the one that makes you proud… and you place it in someone else’s hands. The editor or agent. You’re nervous but hopeful. You’ve done all the work…maybe won a contest or two. But don’t get cocky.

One evening in July, I went to check the veggies progress. Are they ready to be picked yet? In what I perceive to be a true Southern tradition, I decided to collect our bounty in a flowing sundress and barefoot. I bend to check each Straight 8 cuke, glad that they are actually straight and not balls. When wham… a burning sensation slams me… in the bum. The sting of rejection, the confusion and wondering why? Remember the pavers I told you we used on the hill. Yellow jackets decided to build their nest underground in my garden and used the half-inch opening between pavers as their front door. I looked down and there were thirty to forty bees swirling around my ankles. In a very unladylike fashion I hopped out of the garden and sprinted for the back door, praying the yellow jackets didn’t follow. God heard my prayers.

The moral is, good things don’t come easy. Both writing and gardening are work, but oh, so worth it. You’ve got to take the crapola with the praise. The rejection with the kudos. Keep shoveling the Miracle Grow and manure in the mix. You may not like it but they will help your garden and your writing grow.