Writing, Gardening and Seed Ideas

Long ago a friend wrote a challenging question: “How’s your writing going?”

She penned (literally) her letter from San Francisco where she worked for Mother Jones Magazine.

I read her letter while sitting on a rock wall above my garden in Connecticut while my toddlers rolled around the driveway on their big wheels tricycles.

She meant her words kindly, but they pierced.

I had not planned my life the way it appeared to be going.

Like her, I had envisioned graduating from college, getting a job (hopefully involving writing or books), establishing myself in a career, and then entering the ranks of the married with children.

My years at UCLA were filled with books and writing (Thank you, English department and the UCLA Daily Bruin). They came to an end when I graduated a year early to marry my boyfriend and go off on the great Navy adventure.

Seven years later I lived on a rocky hillside in an old house where I tended my children and my garden on limited resources.

My husband was usually out to sea.

My daily life then was filled with writing letters to my husband and friends, reading books from the library, and gardening.

And the children, of course.

But how to answer Lori’s question?

On that warm summer’s day, a breeze blew through the trees and riffled the tender leaves in my four garden beds.

The carrots barely looked like blades of grass, the tomato leaves were a gnarled leathery green, I had work to do weeding and thinning.

The robust zucchini, of course, was trying to take over.

I needed to double dig compost into the last bed to make the soil richer and better for growing plants.

Only then would it be ready for seeds, starts, and, eventually, vegetables to feed us.

Preparing the soil was important.

The boys whizzed by on their plastic wheels, laughing and waving.

I glanced at the letter and then blew them a kiss.

I had work to do in the garden, but an idea to share first with my much-loved writer friend.

“The writing will always be there, but I have more pressing matters right now.

I guess I see my writing life like a garden.

Now is the time to dig in compost, encourage worms and nurture the soil.

One day, all will be ready.

I’ll toss some seeds into that fine garden bed and strong plants will grow.

Likewise, I see this time in my life as digging in the compost of experience into young soil.

One day, I’ll toss in the seeds of an idea and a book will grow and flourish from my life and experiences.

Until then, just living is enough.”

I remember those words so many years later, astonished I had such wisdom in my twenties.

How did my writing garden grow?

Our children–we added two more– grew up.

We lived such a rich life, mulched with places, people, experiences, and dreams, that I have an unlimited source of stories.

I’ve seen the compost, the dead matter, dug into my soul and grow into words that have reaped benefits for myself and for others.

One day the time was right.

My children were grown, my life had “settled” down, and I could till the garden soil of my experiences.

It felt rich and dark and ready.

I tossed in the seeds of an idea and a novella was born.

And another, and another, and so forth.

A tenth book snuggles onto the shelf while all my writing dreams came to fruition.

I’m writing the most important book of my life right now.

It’s using all those experiences, dreams, disappointments, children, missing husband, and even some gardening to boot, for what I hope will be a blessing to all.

Amazing what a few seeds will do.

And a life.

Thank you for that question all those years ago, Lori.

(While no longer at Mother Jones, Lori’s writing has gone splendidly, her literal garden is beautiful, and she has changed many lives for the better).

And you all will forgive me, but I’ve got a little weeding, er, editing, to do.

Tweetables 

How does your garden grow to write a book? Click to Tweet

Writing, compost, gardening, and words. It’s all good. Click to Tweet

Tossing the seeds of an idea into the compost of my soul=1 book. Click to Tweet