Writing is farming.

Just as in farming where you plant a seed, writing starts with a seed—the seed of an idea. Maybe it’s a concept, maybe it’s a character, or maybe it’s just a feeling, but it all starts with a germ of an idea. You plant the seed and let it grow. You either write it down or you let it grow in your mind. You let the sun and the light of day nurture it.

If it shows potential, you give it fertilizer. You feed your idea with related ideas, consequences, actions, and themes. Your idea grows small twigs, branches of possibility and story. You feel a flush of achievement and hope that your story is good. Feeding it more and more, you want it to grow strong and fast.

Then you notice other stories springing up around your plant. Some look like they are related, others not so much. One or two even look good enough to tend, so you give them a bit of fertilizer. But something is wrong. Your story looks spindly and old when you compare it to the flush fresh growth of the surrounding stories. You sit and stare and wonder why your story just sits there and isn’t growing into what you had hoped it would.

Other stories grow. Soon, you have a difficult time seeing your story for the competing weeds.

Your story droops. Leaves fall off as you forget about them and you neglect the plant. After all, you have all these other plants that need your attention, love, and care. Maybe one of them is better than your poor plant.

The original story is drying out. You stare at it and it hits you. It hasn’t been flourishing because you’ve been neglecting it. It’s not the plant’s failure, it’s yours. Realizing you have to do something, you weed. You pull up the surrounding starts, broken stories, and toss them into the compost pile. The plants with the stronger growth, you transplant to a notebook from which you can regrow them when they are needed. Focusing all of your attention on the dying story, you feed it with new vigor, interest, and ideas.

Soon, your story has grown; a tangled mess of branches, leaves, and stalks. There are even seeds of new stories—sequels forming. Full of pride at having grown this mess, you transplant it into a pot. Now the hard part begins. It’s time to turn your mess of a plant into a masterpiece of a bonsai. It’s time to edit.