A Garden of Words

A Garden of Words

I love to garden. I started when I was about 10, taking a portion of the backyard plot my father had tilled. He usually grew about a dozen tomato plants, and I could plant whatever I wanted in the rest of the space. I grew beans and peas, peppers and radishes, cucumbers and lettuce. I even tried growing corn one summer, planting a solitary row to see how it did. Of course, it failed miserably, due entirely to the fact that I didn’t do my research and so didn’t learn that corn is a self-pollinator, and you need several rows of plants to achieve that goal.

But I learned from my mistakes, and I continued to enjoy gardening throughout my adult life. In my raised bed this year, I have planted garlic, tomatoes, beans, Brussels sprouts and—can you believe it—corn. (Several rows of it!)

Writing and gardening are similar in scope. The goal is to produce something of value, and the steps to go about the process are very much the same. If you approach your writing like a gardener, you should achieve a rich harvest.

1.    Plant the seed. What do you want to write? How much “space” will you require? How long should you plan for it to take—and don’t think that “I’ll write until it’s ready” is good enough. Goals are motivators, whether it is your editor’s deadline or one you impose yourself.

2.    Fertilize your work as often as possible. In the context of writing, fertilizing refers to reading. As I noted in my previous entry, read as much as you can, as often as possible. It will enrich your own work.

3.    “Water” your work daily. Just as a garden withers from a lack of moisture, your writing will suffer if you don’t keep at it continually. It is not an exaggeration to tell writers they should write daily; getting out of that habit shows. Just as it is for musicians, if you don’t “practice” every day, the quality of your prose, or poetry, will diminish.

4.    Weed and prune often. Untended weeds will choke your plants. Unnecessary words do the same in your writing. Even the most florid literature can benefit from a little trimming, and it is even more true for non-fiction. My writing grew greatly during my time as a newspaper journalist. Nothing teaches you to “write tight” better than an editor telling you, “You have eight column inches to fill, and I need it in 30 minutes.” You learn quickly how to choose the most important elements of a story and state them as succinctly as possible.

That’s the process. Follow it and you’ll celebrate a great harvest.