Writing, gardening, and reality

Missed that Friday post already! Said I might. Maybe we can talk about all the reasons why next time, but for this week, I’m bringing back a recent post. Had to pull this down for a short time due to fear of contest conflicts, so here we go again. Round two- on a cool Saturday morning and a beekeepers day. More next time. God bless.

I love cool spring mornings, and so do the characters in my novel. Birds sing in the woods behind my house, and the sun drifts slowly upward. The lines of our garden separate from the backdrop of oaks and pines becoming defined browns, greens, and greys. We have no red dirt here as in my novel, but rather a sandy loam known for classless clay. We edge the piney wood country of East Texas.

My lead character works in her garden early, before the start of a busy day. She gathers the produce and cans her labor of love. The hard work becomes a thing of beauty, something to be desired.

We spent the past weekend in the garden, and I spent the hours comparing reality to story. I want to write a realistic story, transporting the reader to places familiar or unknown. But the aching back, sunburnt arms, and next morning crawl from bed are less than entertaining. These not so lovely musings might be better off tamed for the novel. Some of the difference comes in age, the lead being a bit younger than this sore gardener. But still, I learn from the experience, and hopefully, bring wisdom with a touch of grace to life on the page.

My own busy work day has begun. My story characters must rest for now. 

Have a blessed day. 

Happy writing! 

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