Carrots are better with a little dirt.
Yes, I have click-baited my blog post with a “5 Things” headline. Live with it.
So I’ve got this garden, and only by sheer force of will am I able to keep myself from using sarcastic quotes around the word “garden.” Except, I just did it right there, so…moving on.
There really are at least five things I have picked up from teaching myself how to garden that are applicable to your fiction writing. In no particular order, they are:
1. Trust the soil and sun.
I don’t have a green thumb, though my father does. I pushed little holes into the store-bought dirt, chucked some heritage seeds into them, covered ’em up and hoped for the best. What that got me was not exactly a bumper crop, but for my first time out, the sugar snap and snow peas were delicious, and the carrot came out pretty nice. Your soil and your sun are your history, your experience, your feelings. Trust them to get the job done. They are what makes your voice and story different from any other.
2. But you have to weed and water.
That being said, gardens don’t grow themselves. Not the beneficial, yummy kind, anyway. It requires effort on your part to tend things, to make sure they’re getting enough water, to make sure weeds or pests aren’t destroying things. Most of us can’t roll out of bed, pop out a manuscript, and send it to Random House. Consider your first few years of novel writing as your apprenticeship. Trust your voice, yes; but learn your craft, too.
3. Use shit and scraps.
I didn’t use any actual manure in this garden, but I did use a homemade compost made from leftover soil and our fruit and veggie kitchen scraps. Your best writing, no matter the genre, will come out of your metaphorical shit. All the gross parts, the goo from the broken eggs, the fragile shells, the wilty green stuff. Fiction is about conflict and adversity, always. It’s the shit of human life, so bring yours to the keyboard and use it. All stories are about characters, and the more we identify with your characters, the more we will love your story.
4. Learn from your mistakes.
Like I said, I’m not a gardener, really. I threw stuff into the dirt and poured water on it. But even that modicum of effort showed me that I can actually grow stuff that is fit for human consumption. That’s a powerful thing, the first time you experience it–and so is storytelling. Never forget that. But now I know how much water to use next time. I know that I needed to plant some other types of vegetation to help reduce the insect issues I had. I learned a lot this season from that little ill-tended square-footer; what might have happened if I’d actually paid close attention? Really gotten my hands dirty, so to speak?
No manuscript–no sentence–of fiction is ever wasted. Every word and every mark of punctuation is like money in your writing bank, slowly building toward a novel or story that will knock people’s socks off. That means even…no, that means especially the bad stuff. You won’t publish every word you write, but you’ll learn from each one.
5. Don’t share until it’s ready.
It really sucks to pull up what you think is going to be a gorgeous carrot, and instead it’s this little runty pale orange root. Growing food takes time; so does writing a novel. Or a story of any length, really. (In fact, I’d argue writing a great short story is much harder than writing a good or even acceptable novel.) Don’t pull your stories out of the dirt until they’re actually ready to be consumed; don’t show them till they’re ready. For beta-readers, that might be after you type “The End.” For agents or publishers, though, it means making absolutely sure everything that went into that story is the best it can be. Did you use good soil? Did you use good shit? Did you show enough patience and get enough coaching and help to make sure it’s ready to show off? Be patient, and keep working. The story and the vegetables will let you know when it’s time.
*Bonus: Ask around.
Read what others before you have learned. Talk to them in person whenever possible. You can learn more from a five minute talk with a published author, and from a ten minute backyard garden tour, than almost anywhere else. There are plenty of awesome books on both gardening and writing, and you should read them. (Tiny list below.) You don’t have to write this book or raise this garden entirely alone.
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Okay, look, I apologize for straining the analogy here. It’s a bit goofy, and a dash trite, I know. But the take-away is still for real: If I can plant a garden that yields an edible–nay, delicious!–carrot and some peas, then you can write a great story. Get busy!
Recommended Reading:
Animal, Vegetable, Miracle – Barbara Kingsolver
Plot – Ansen Dibell
Burning Down the House – Charles Baxter
COMING UP:
Behind the Music, episode 3: Shake Your Foundations
Type Something Up: What to do with too many ideas.
