What my garden taught me about writing books
Last year, I took my first foray into outdoor gardening. I built a trellis from PVC pipes and grew sweet potatoes, cucumbers, and tomatoes using the string trellis method. The results were less than stellar. After months of growing they hardly grew at all.
My little garden patch is flanked by trees, fences, and buildings. After a year of observation I've learned it gets a max of 6 hours of sunlight even in July when there's 12 hours of sunlight. Even worse, the fences and surrounding concrete create a greenhouse effect, making it significantly warmer.
The problem, I learned, was a combination of heat stress and lack of sunlight. The plants I was growing needed more than 6 hours of light to thrive and fresh air circulation to keep them cool.
When I was planning my garden for the current growing season, I realized I need to work with my plot, instead of against it. It reminded me of the book I had recently read on Zen Buddhism, Charlotte Joko Beck's "Nothing Special: Living Zen."
Here is how planning a garden taught me about the mindset I need to write a book.
On seeing things as they really are
My original plan was to do everything I did last season, only better.
Grow my plants larger and stronger indoors before bringing them outdoors
Increase the fertility of the soil with compost and organic fertilizers
Add higher density shade cloth to reduce the temperature
Increase spacing to allow more airflow
Thinking about it now, I optimization would only produce incremental gains. I am facing a fundamental mismatch between the kind of plants I want to grow and what can thrive in my given space.
I thought it was cool to grow Okinawan Sweet Potatoes (AKA Hawaiian Sweet Potatoes) because I had read about them in "Ikigai: The Japanese Secret to a Long and Happy Life." In the book it explains how Okinawan people avoid overeating by eating nutritious and filling superfoods like the sweet potato. It also has a beautiful purple color that would look great as mashed potatoes or a whipped topping.
I was focusing too much on what I wanted and not what my sweet potatoes wanted. They wanted tons of sunshine and lots of water. I have a raised garden bed, it drains quickly, so keeping the soil wet would require constant watering. It's not something I want to do in drought prone California where water restrictions are a common thing.
After raising 6 plants I bought in the mail for over 12 months, I produced 0 potatoes. A few of the plants got pretty big. But they never thrived to the point where they produced potatoes.
The reality is my plot is not a good place to grow Okinawan Sweet Potatoes. While I could increase the yield through optimization, I'd be fighting an uphill battle. It made me realize how often I attach myself to fantasies disconnected from reality and how they’re holding me back.
I was too focused on what I wanted, cool purple potatoes I read about in a book, and not paying attention to what was possible. As an aside, they sell Okinwan Sweet Potatoes at the farmer's market, so I did get my potatoes after all.
On Trying not to Try
There is a great irony when it comes to any sort of practice, whether it's gardening, writing, or meditation. The only way to get something is by not wanting it too much, not trying too hard. But in order to learn this lesson, you first have to try (too much).
Going back to my analogy about gardening, I learned the constraints of my plot through trying to grow sweet potatoes. By seeing my cucumbers undergo heat stress, I learned about the heat. The stunted growth is what cued me in on the lack of sunlight.
To try less means working within the constraints of my garden plot. My goal is to spend 1-2 hours a week in my garden so I want plants that will thrive effortlessly with little assistance.
That's why I've decided this year to plant native California wildflowers like the California Orange Poppy and the California Sunflower. Wildflowers are drought-tolerant and heat resistant. They don't require a lot of sunlight or fertile soil. I got the idea on a walk when I noticed how wildflowers can grow even at the shady edges of fields where there's less light.
Now, when I leave my apartment for a trip I don't have to worry about my plants shriveling up and dying in the dry Californian heat, I know they'll be just fine.
What does this have to do with writing books?
I have so many fantasies surrounding my writing. A lot of them have to do with perfection, some have to do with status, or money. Let me know if any of these sound familiar:
Once I sell my book, I'll be able to quit my corporate job
Once I publish my book, I'll finally get validation as a writer
Once I write my magnum opus, my life will have had meaning
While there's nothing wrong with having aspirations–they can be motivating–in my experience they are distracting. When it comes to the act of writing itself, the way to make progress is focusing entirely on the article, or the story, whatever the project requires at that moment.
When you chase fantasies, it's "trying too hard", it's like growing sweet potatoes in a crowded urban garden. Writing is a long game and extrinsic motivation can only take you so far. Finishing a book requires intrinsic motivation and stamina. Otherwise, you are bound to get discouraged and give up when you hit your fisrt major roadblock.
Writing a book is like growing wildflowers. Your process should feel low friction, I won't say easy though, it should feel like work. The best method is the one that works best for you and produces the results you like. The most important thing is to focus on the work, figure out where you feel excitement, and then follow it wherever it goes.
Next week I'll be continuing my series on Brandon Sanderson's 2025 Lecture Series. There was no lecture last week due to a last minute cancellation, hence why I am doing a one-shot post this week. Tune in next week for a post covering what makes characters compelling and how to write your first novel.