In January, with the support of a local padawan, I proclaimed 2020 to be an epic year, the year of the cinnamon roll. It’s shaping up to pretty epic alright. Quarantine is ok, so far. (I’m only a couple of weeks in, so check back on me later.) I have more time to write, go for long walks, ride bikes, read books, not garden, etc.
Still, after a year of posting somewhat regularly on my blog, and hoping to be a real life published author someday, a local magazine accepted a rough draft of mine about writing stories. Durango Neighbor magazine only publishes in the real world, as in, not digitally. So, I can’t link to an article. Just look really close at the picture! It’s a real thing folks. Thank goodness you can try something and it kind of works sometimes!
Clearing the Land
The great thing about having my article published was that it actually wasn’t that hard, at least the writing part. Publishers really do just want content. In simpler words, we just have to try.
Ann Lamott has a book called Bird by Bird, where she explains so clearly how writing and life have almost everything in common. If you are not a writer, maybe your are here for the bad gardening advice. Why would you want that? I heard Erin Loechner say in an interview with Hope Writers that doing a brain dump is like clearing the land, so something useful can be made in its place. Like planting a garden, or building a house, you’ve got to clear out the old roots, and rocks and shrubs to prepare for something more useful in it’s place.
Almost all of my writing could be called clearing the land. I have to clear land every morning. For whatever reason, night time is when all these weedy thoughts build up in my mind, and if I don’t get rid of them, they become like this awful jungle vine that takes over all my rational, smart, productive thoughts. So, not all my gardening advice is bad, you’ve got to do the weeding.
Daffodils and Mint, Let Things Grow
The steps for writing and gardening are similar: clear the land, let things grow, pay attention. Wait, those aren’t the steps are they? Did I forget the planting part? After years of trying to garden, I have learned how little control I have over the success of it. No matter how high the fence, the deer always get in. I either over water, or let things dry out. Just when I think I have things figured out, and early frost comes in. Writing rough drafts, and gardening, have taught me how important it is to let some things go.
Still, there is the daffodils and the mint. They are wonderful proof of trying something and paying attention. The daffodils and the mint are rough drafts that worked. I planted them years ago, and they dutifully pop out every year, even though I don’t really take care of them. Sometimes you can’t really see them under all the leaves that should have been raked, and old weeds, but they are there! When I write anything, I always hope the words will become daffodils and mint. That they will be useful or beautiful. I just don’t always know. It’s OK that I don’t have control over how my words will turn out. At least I am trying to say something, to grow something, and it doesn’t have to be perfect. This is life, to try something, and then pay attention.
Pay Attention
After you have cleared the land (dumped your thoughts), let some things grow (written a rough draft), pay attention. Read it without making any changes, just see what pops up. I always do this at least a day later. You’ve got to get away from it for a while. It takes a whole year for daffodils and mint to show up again. Go back with fresh eyes, and newly cleared land the next day. Almost every time, I end up rewriting the whole thing, but not until I have given it a chance to show me what’s there. This is the tenth revision and I’m almost ready to hit publish.
The first draft of this post was intended to be about myself, as a walking breathing rough draft, but the second or third time through, I remembered the daffodils and the mint. Why would daffodils and mint remind me of writing? I resonated with the clearing the land metaphor, which led to my failed attempts at gardening, which reminded me about rough drafts, and my love for them.
I’m sure this post doesn’t make much sense. It’s still a rough draft after all!