Life lessons from gardening and writing
If you follow me on Instagram, you've probably noticed I like plants. I always had an interest in growing plants from flowers, to vegetables, to researching historical herbal remedies when I worked for a historic site in Virginia. To put it simply, I'm a plant person.
My grandfather and one uncle are plant people too. My dad likes plants well enough, but over the years stopped gardening because of the heat. My mom is a plant person, but really only indoor plants. One day when I was sixteen, I stopped at the hardware store on the way home from my part-time job and bought a bunch of vegetable plants. When I got back to the house, I went into the shed and pulled out a hoe and shovel, and tore up a twenty by twenty section of my dad's yard that he wasn't doing anything with at the time. Imagine my dad's surprise when he pulled up in the truck to find a section of leaves cleared and his daughter hacking away at the ground with a couple of flats of plants next to me. Long story short, my dad asked what I was up to since apparently, he was confused, and when I replied I was planting a garden thank you very much, my dad just shrugged and got his rototiller to help me out. No one told me to get plants, and we hadn't had a garden in a while. There had been no discussion of where to put it, though I had picked a great location through pure luck. Something just told me to do it.
I had plants in college, at my rental house, then when we moved out to the country again a garden every year in different spots. Last year was the biggest garden, but because of traveling and the launch of The Secret About Time, I went small with a little patio planter, and I've had the best crop in years.
I don't know what made me a plant person, but here I am, and I got to tell you, there's a lot of similarities to writing. Here's what I've learned.
You have got to believe this is going to work.
I planted my current garden in March. I had ordered the seeds in February, and while looking at the seed catalog, because yes, apparently I'm a hundred years old, I could taste the tomato sandwich I was going to enjoy in July. I literally was thinking about that sandwich when there was frost on the ground, and I was in my classroom planting the seeds with the back of a Bic ballpoint pen. Just like with writing, you have to believe that your story is going to be loved. If you don't believe, and I mean really believe, as in you can taste it, then it isn't going to happen.
Do your research
I went to a session in NYC at the national conference for Romance Writer's of America this past July and attended Skye Warren's session on The Anatomy of a Bestselling Booklaunch. During that session, Warren likened publishing a book to peaches. Imagine a farmer plants a peach tree, but doesn't read up on peaches. When it doesn't thrive, he shrugged and plants another, when that one doesn't thrive, he repeats the cycle. She compared this to writers writing another book to see if this one makes it big. Whereas a farmer could use fertilizer or fungicide to help, a writer can attend workshops, advertise, and learn about the industry and craft to improve their yield. Years ago, I sat down and read up on tomato plants, which was a complete gamechanger. If you're reading this for writing tips, you can skip this part, unless of course, your next heroine grows tomatoes.
Do not plant tomatoes like other plants, by just popping them in the ground. Pick off all but the top four leaves or so and then plant them on their side to encourage more root structure. This helps them to soak up as much water and be sturdier in the ground.
Sucker them. Pluck off any new growth that sprouts from between a branch and the main stem. For example, if your armpit or shoulder started growing another arm, you'd want to nip that in the bud. The plant is trying to use up as much energy as possible. Breaking off these growths (not the flowers, of course, those are where tomatoes come from) denies the plant the chance to release energy by creating more plant. When you pull off the suckers, the plant will have no choice but to produce more fruit.
Top them off. When they start to get too tall or outgrow their stake, pluck off the main stem. This will encourage more fruit production and less plant growth. A great resource is this guide on HappyDIYHome.com which goes more in-depth with all things pruning.
Use calcium nitrate if experiencing bottom rot. I apply this once a year around each stem and never have another problem.
Do your research. If you have cracking, blossom rot, or something else, usually a quick Google search will tell you what to do.
The point is, you can’t thrive, if you don’t learn what is working for other people.
Surprises are going to happen
In writing, surprises are called plot bunnies. In gardening, they're called volunteers. What that means is something pops out of nowhere and isn't following the plan, but it's probably the strongest thing you've got. I suggest when this happens, you roll with it. In gardening, it's tempting to pull out a vine from your perfectly spaced tomato patch, but then you might miss out on two dozen bonus cucumbers like I had this year. In writing, if the character wants to do something, roll with it, and see what happens. Chances are if you let the character do what they want, they'll show you something cool.
Compost and reuse
Just because you did something and it didn't work out, doesn't mean its worthless. I've written two books that if I'm honest will probably never see the light of day. They're not bad, but they're just not quite right. I don't throw anything away, though. Sometimes I'll be writing along when something feels familiar like I've written it before. When that happens, I go to my old files and pull out a scene from a book I had written years ago to see what I can use. Sometimes I can recycle a character who has been waiting for their moment, but they’re in a book that just didn’t make the cut. Whenever I have to cut a scene in the editing process, I put it in another file because you never know. With The Secret About Time, my editor commented that something felt like it was missing from the end. I went back in my trash file and lo and behold there was something I could use. A few tweaks and it fit right into the story.
In my garden, an ugly, misshapen tomato can one day be a beautiful, thriving plant. I toss them in a compost bin (I love this one), and I've had volunteers ever since. Even if I don't get a volunteer plant from that one seed, I get fertile soil that's ripe for planting something new. And even if I don’t get something out of the soil, practice and experience is always good.
Keep thinking about the future.
I collect acorns and squirrels. They're very special to me. Everyone and their brother knows pineapples mean hospitality, but my husband shared with me that squirrels and acorns represent saving for the future and thinking long-term. He learned this from a historic site where the family crest had the rather unassuming squirrel proudly included. Now I collect acorns and squirrels for my house for this reason and even have an acorn necklace I wear. It always reminds me to think what I can do today to influence my tomorrow.
In gardening, the meaning is clear. An acorn will someday turn into an oak tree. Even though the leaves are starting to change and fall, I'm already thinking about next year, planting azaleas, and keeping a wary eye on my plants around the house that will need maintenance to be ready for the spring. Just like in the garden, in the writing world, if we do something small today, it can pay off big in the future.
Onward with acorns!
Kathryn
