It’s spring—nature’s time of inspiration. Bright
green leaves are popping out, flower heads are blowing around, and allergies
symptoms abound, but that’s another story. I was out in the thick of it
yesterday, pruning trees in a major effort since moving into my one-acre yard a
few years ago. This morning, benefits are being enumerated. Muscles have that
satisfied feeling with the aches of being more toned. My brain is toned up as
well and ready to get back to mental pruning called editing. And I’m brimming with
glimmers of new ideas. This is an excellent frame of reference with which to
begin a writing day. Glimmers of inspiration and editing are different processes,
both essential to good writing.
I write from story start to story finish in a
wave of energy beginning with a glimmer of an idea, a realization. I fill in details. I
rewrite with an eye on plot points. What is my real story? Glimmers grow into solid writing craft honed from workshops, reading, and walks of reflection.
Next is the process of editing and more
editing. My trees reminded me of lines not crucial to the direction of my
story. The strong trunk must reach upward with grace. I trimmed off small twigs
that didn’t add to or reflect back on the limbs of plot or subplot details. The
Water Oak showed signs of burn from high temperature winds and drought, perhaps
like my wrong turns in crafting story. Dead sections had to be removed. Uneven
pruning from previous efforts had to be straightened out. Tree cut spots seemed
to disappear from view as focus shifted to clarity of story. Sturdy limbs that
jutted straight out called for a tree swing or a series of bird houses and rewriting.
The art of story begins to reveal itself in
an almost magical flow between writing and breaks to renew my perspective. A
good story tells me where to go, arching like a Live Oak, or stubbornly pushing
upward as a Post Oak. Editing, like pruning, shows the grace of a story with
all details reflecting back and forth, yet moving to an inevitable climax and
end. Does the story touch the sky?
Nature walks and gardening break up a
writer’s life by sowing new thoughts and renewing the writer’s spirit. Poet
William Wordsworth composed most of his lines in his head while walking around
the Lake District—glimmers of lines in daffodils. My spring is about renewal,
new starts, and finding the art of story while revising my first novel again.
