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Cathy: My rose bushes

After all these years, I finally figured it out. My creativity works in cycles of gathering times and output times. Last couple of weeks was a wonderful output time. I made significant progress on my youth novel, I blogged, wrote an essay for the weekly contest, and more. My garden even produced a bunch of good eats. This week, I’m darned if I’ve written anything worth mentioning, my tomatoes are still green and the squash bugs have eaten my squash plants from the inside out, rendering the squash garden an ugly open squashy graveyard.

I feel like my rose bushes. Honestly, they look pretty spindly most of the time, but if I let them do their thing in their own time, I pull out of the driveway, down the side street, around the side of my house to a sudden bursting of big deep fuscia blooms, so fragrant I can smell them from the road. Or the vining trellis is covered in mini white blooms, like marshmallows or little gobs of snow in June. Sometimes I feel like I have nothing to say. At other times, the writing pours out so fast and furious, I can’t stop to keep myself from drowning in it. I am so excited and anxious during those few days that it can be overwhelming. Then it stops, just like the blooms fall off the bush.

But then, while the bush may look dead, and I may look like I’m doing nothing, I know those flowers are gathering nutrients from the roots. I know my writing is gathering momentum again. And right now, I think I just may write the next bit in a couple of days from now. I can’t force it, just like I can’t make my rose bushes be covered in blooms constantly, either. Right now, we’re both feeding from deep within.

2 Comments Post a comment
  1. So beautifully put, Cathy! Thank you.

    August 7, 2008
  2. Cathy #

    thanks!

    August 7, 2008

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