Dormancy

Yesterday I spent the day (the entire day) digging around in the flowerbeds around my new house. I never feel like a house is truly mine until I've made a difference in the flowerbeds. BTW, this house has extensive areas for flowers, and lots of perennials already started. I'm already looking forward to next spring to see how the changes I've made will impact the overall look of the place.

But that's sort of beside the point. What I'm thinking about is the entry in my gardening how-to book. I've wanted clematis for close to ten years, but never had a good place to plant one. This house even has a climbing trellis in the back, in a sunny area. Perfect.

However, the author of the gardening book said not to be surprised if the clematis seems to go dormant after being transplanted. These plants apparently really don't like changing location, and so they may just quit doing any visible growth for as long as a year after the transplant. The thought occurred to me, "Gardening isn't for impatient souls."

The same could be said for creativity. I am prone to fits of impatience, particularly when life, such as a cross-country move, forces my writing into dormancy. For example, I haven't written much for the past six months, and I don't forecast much happening for yet another month. But the creative life is not for the impatient. As I keep reminding myself, it's about the process, not the product. I nurture my gift, I express it in the little ways which "work" right now, and one of these days, the plant will start to grow again.

I'll keep you posted about the clematis, too.

Slogging through the boxes

It's our second week in our new house after a cross-country move. I'm still surrounded by boxes and various belongings waiting for a place to go. Even though we move every 3 - 4 years, I forget from one move to the next just how tiring and yes, even frustrating, this phase is. I guess it's like childbirth. If we remembered exactly how it is, we'd make sure never to do it again!
But then, that's a lot like writing. If I remembered exactly from book to book how it felt, particularly on the days when I felt about as creative as yesterday's oatmeal, I'd never attempt another. Instead, I remember the highs -- the moments when the words came "just right" or the letter from a reader telling about how she cried when my character's heart was broken.
I know it's cliched, but it's also true. Every worthwhile endeavour has moments, even hours or days, when it feels anything but worthwhile. The point is to just keep going.