Mysteries of Gardening & Writing

Did you know that creating a garden is a lot like writing romantic suspense?

Let’s begin with my “gardening” adventures. When we built our new home, the foundation sat on a sea of red clay, broken only by the trees we attempted to save and the rocks we discovered every time we stuck a pick ax in the ground. If top soil ever existed, we never saw it. The builder spread a couple truckloads of mulch and seeded fescue. So, that first winter, we had swatches of lush green lawn, surrounding islands of brown mulch.

By summer, weeds out-competed the fescue (not a good choice for full South Carolina sun) and flourished in our mulch oases. Wanting to be “green,” my hubby and I were loath to nuke every living organism with killer chemicals. Our goal was a landscape where native plants and trees thrived without constant irrigation, and with minimal weeding. Did I mention we’re also cheap, er, frugal? We didn’t want to pay someone to care for our yard.

Desperate, I signed up for a Master Gardener course. I figured I’d learn how to transform our wasteland into a flowering utopia. The course taught me many things about soil composition, pH levels and amendments. I learned how to distinguish a termite from a winged ant. I watched an instructor graft a flowering tree onto a hardier root stock. I learned the central tenants of landscape design.

Unfortunately, the course didn’t teach me how to tell whether a plant flourishing in my backyard was a weed, some scary invasive species, or a native plant I ought to encourage. I remained clueless about what to plant, where to plant it, and how to keep it alive. I am still learning these things—from avid gardeners who are kind enough to share their knowledge (as well as plants), from trial and error, from visiting other gardens, and from doing.

So, what does trial-and-error gardening have to do with writing romantic suspense? A lot. When I first decided to make the move from nonfiction to fiction, I signed up for a fiction class with author Brewster Milton Robertson. I learned a lot in his class, but what I remember most is Brewster’s reassurance: “The writing will teach you.”

That class was step one on my journey as a fiction author. Each day, I continue to learn. I learn from critique partners willing to share their knowledge and insights. I learn from reading authors who are masters in my genre. I pick up tips from taking courses and attending conferences. I learn from teaching classes—both from brushing up on material I may have forgotten and from student questions and interaction. I learn from my own mistakes and my successes.

If you’re committed to being an author (or a gardener), I don’t think you can ever stop learning. I hope I never do. What learning avenues do you value most as you strive to improve your craft?