Lily of the valley in a cunning little vase perfume my office. Gathered from the scrappy plots along the front and backyards, they’re a delight. The gardens around my house have been slowly unfolding for weeks now.
I love seeing perennials and bulbs do their thing. Right now, the latest tulips are blooming. The irises and peonies are loaded with heavy buds that will burst within a week or two. My patchwork garden beds are loaded with possibilities.
Spring is a time of promise. But like the seasons of our writing life, spring is also a time for paying attention, for planting once the threat of frost has passed, and sometimes, for pruning.
My rose bushes are old—and need attention (you can see them in the upper right corner of the photo above). Fresh leaves unfurl at the base, but the canes that reach higher remain dry and leafless. To thrive, it must be pruned.
The herb bed already appears eager to support culinary adventures. However, I still need to clear away dead leaves. And the creeping phlox I planted there last year is barely blooming because it has been overrun by the vigorous thyme. To survive, it will need to be dug up and moved to a bed with more space.
Spring offers an opportunity to catch the weeds before they grow deep roots, to amend the soil that needs more nutrients, to prune. Summer is coming and what you do now will have consequences in July.
The writing life, likewise, has seasons. Spring is a time of promise, of possibility, but also, of pruning. Clearing out branches that didn’t survive the winter, cutting back or moving things that are taking over. Growth of one plant might mean the demise of another.
I thought this was a newsletter about writing???
Yep. And as a writer, I love a good metaphor. Take a look at your writing life with a gardener’s eye. What needs to be pruned, or thinned? Where is growth about to happen? Where have weeds cropped up?
Maybe you have started several too many projects, never seeing any to completion, and need to do some pruning.
Maybe weeds of doubt, busyness, or insecurity are cropping up and need to be removed.
Maybe you need to finally start the project you’ve been dreaming about, and nurture it like a seedling with daily attention.
Maybe it’s time to be deliberate about growth by taking a writing class or hiring a writing coach or an editor.
What do you need to plant, prune, or nurture in your writing life?
P.S. If you’re not sure about your next step, click below to contact me for a free consultation.
wise counsel...
Great metaphor, Keri. Of all the things about a rooted "normal" life I will miss, gardening is way up there on the list. Right now, in addition to itching to get my fingers back in the literal garden I can see but no longer own (as I just wrote about), I am also itching to get my fingers back onto my keyboard to finish a novel I have been working on for the past year and a half or so. I stopped work on it when we embarked on backpacking around Southeast Asia for the winter, and now it is still on hold while we prepare to dig up the last of our old life so we can hit the road as nomads. I won't resume work on it until then, but this Spring Fever has got me ready and wishing I could tackle that big project again.