Well, I must be doing something right . . .

Remember my post about gardening? And how I didn't bring it all back around to writing at the end?

I wish I could say this one, a follow-up post, would be the same way. But the images-- they are aplenty in my head.

To catch everyone up, I am currently querying a commercial fiction novel. Well, mostly. I'm technically on query hiatus as of right now, only because I have so much else going on until my wedding in October. Once that's over with though, I intend to dive back in head first-- though that doesn't mean I won't cheat and send a few out in the meantime.

A couple weeks ago, I wrote about the pumpkins I'm attempting to grow in my backyard for said wedding, and my fears that previous planticides were indicative of my inability to take care of anything botanical. (Wow, did I used enough big words in that sentence?)

And I have to admit that I treat querying the same way. It frankly scares me to do it at times because I've failed before. What if this time isn't different? What if this time, they not only say no, but call me a silly hack who never has a hope of a writing career please stop now before you hurt someone?

Well, to all of that, I say this:

Cling to the small successes.

For my first concern, the pumpkin vines in my yard, I give you the following evidence. What was bare dirt and hard work a mere four weeks ago has turned into this:



For queries, I see the small successes as requests for partials and fulls. Sure, that in and of itself hasn't landed me an agent yet, but it means that something I'm doing is headed in the right direction. I can only hope that if I keep growing and learning, I will do more right and make it to my goal.

My plants are oddly demonstrative of this point right now. If you notice in the picture above, I have lots of little sprouts and that one random HUGE cluster. Here's a not-blurry close up of those guys for you:


Those leaves up there? They are as big as my HEAD. Yeah.

So not all of my pumpkin vines (all 38 that sprouted!) are growing into giant mutants (SEEEEEY-MOUR!), but they're there, and they're growing slowly but steadily. Once I figure out what I've done so correctly with this particular group, I can apply it to the rest (I have a feeling it's really mostly just sunshine, but that's a whole other metaphor/analogy). And you know what? I'm fine with the others not being so large and beautiful just yet. They'll get there, or, maybe they won't. Everyone has a weakness and a flaw.

I'm just happy that I have something I can point to and say, "Hey! Look! I did that, and I did it right." The rest will come with time and practice.

Gardening

Yesterday, I planted a garden in my backyard.

We're not doing much with our lawn, so we hoed out a pretty big chunk of it and tilled the dirt to make way for four rows of pumpkins and 18 strawberry plants that I had picked up at the nursery. It turned out, after doing the math on Saturday, that in order for the pumpkins to be ready for our wedding, they needed to be planted like, now.

You have to understand something about me, though, to understand why this is a big deal. Me and plants? Yeah, we don't get along. Which is a shame, because I totally LOVE plants. I mean, they're awesome, and beautiful.

But see, when I was a kid, my mom and my grandparents used to try to teach me how to take care of plants, and I failed. Every. Single. Time. I was the arboreal version of the kid that keeps overfeeding the goldfish it gets at the fair. You know, the one whose mom goes to the pet store every week trying to find a twin before the kid gets home from school.

I once even managed to kill a cactus. That's dedication, right there. It takes a LOT of not-watering to kill a plant that lives in the desert.

One time I planted marigold seeds in the backyard with my mom's help. They sprouted, grew, even flowered-- and then the dog dug them up.

I'm cursed.

So you can imagine how nervous I was to attempt something as bold as a garden. See, we have a yard-- front and back-- but I am extremely lucky in that my future father-in-law is retired, loves his son and me, and enjoys yard work. Extremely lucky. He takes care of the yard for us, so our house is surrounded by lush, green plants and gorgeous flowers. I'm secretly hoping he'll step in and correct any damage I might do by thundering around in there like Godzilla.

And I vow to be more careful, and look at pictures of pumpkin sprouts online so I don't accidentally pull them out as weeds. It's too early to tell if these new lives will make it with me around, but I'm excited nevertheless. It's been a dream of mine for a long time-- and especially ever since we bought the house-- to have a garden. To grow something from the ground and pick it and be able to say, hey, I grew that.

Now is usually the part where I bring it all back around to writing. But you know what? The gardening/ writing metaphor has been done to death. I think I'll just sit here, in my thoughts, thinking about big shady trees and green, green, green all around.

Feel free to use your imagination and give me your best gardening/ writing metaphor in the comments, though.