Storytelling is a lot like gardening, at least the way I do both. (Consider this a cautionary tale of “Do as I say, not as I do”!

I start with an idea, a theme, a vision. Characters in a difficult situation. And issue or statement to make. An empty space in the yard. Then I cast around in my mind and in my notes and references for ways to fill out and fill in the basics. I always intend to create an outline for each story, a diagram for each flower bed because I know it will save time, energy, frustration and heartache to plan ahead.

Usually, I start strong. I’ll have my characters broadly sketched and the conflicts they have to deal with set up. I’ll have my plant lists and a scale drawing of the flower bed or border. Then impatience kicks in and instead of completing my outline or diagram, I – figuratively or literally – dig in. After all, how am I supposed to really get to know my characters and feel their conflicts if I don’t start writing? How am I supposed to see how the various plants on my list will go together if I don’t start planting them?

If you’re a storyteller (written or oral) or a gardener, you no doubt have anticipated what happens next. In fact, if you have a modicum of the sense I seem to abandon shortly after starting a project, you can guess what happens next. Not always, of course, but often enough so you’d think I’d learn.

It’s messier and tougher on the back to un-plant a disorganized flower bed than it is to fix a manuscript that’s gone off the rails, but the principles are pretty much the same: figure out what’s wrong and change what isn’t working so that it’s more in line with what it was supposed to be in the first place. As the carpenters say: “Measure twice, cut once.” 

More on this dual subject in the future. Or at least, that’s what I’m planning to do.