The Scratching Post: The Not So Constant Gardener

Gardening is a metaphor for many things in life, but perhaps most intriguingly, it mirrors the creative process. For urban plant enthusiasts, casual gardeners, and fiction writers, this parallel can be particularly resonant. If you’ve read "The Constant Gardener" or seen the movie adaptation, you’ll know how Tessa Quayle's intricate care for her garden reflects the meticulous nature required in both gardening and writing. But what happens when you're not a constant gardener, but rather an every-so-often gardener?

A Glimpse into "The Constant Gardener"

"The Constant Gardener" is a political thriller novel by John le Carré, later adapted into a successful film. It follows Justin Quayle, a British diplomat in Kenya, whose wife Tessa is murdered. Justin’s quest to uncover the mystery behind her death reveals dark secrets about pharmaceutical companies and government corruption. In both the book and the movie, Justin is depicted as a diligent gardener, tending to his plants with unwavering attention. This activity serves as a metaphor for his methodical investigation into his wife's murder.

The Meticulous Nature of Justin Quayle

Justin Quayle's dedication to his garden is emblematic of his character. He is precise, patient, and deeply committed. Afterall, Gardening requires consistency and a careful eye for detail—qualities that Justin also brings to his investigation. Each plant in his garden represents a clue, each weed a potential threat to be eradicated. His garden is a sanctuary where he can think clearly and draw parallels between nurturing plants and nurturing the truth.

The Every-So-Often Gardener

Let's pivot to a different kind of gardener—the every-so-often gardener. Unlike Justin Quayle, my approach to gardening (and writing) is sporadic and somewhat whimsical. I fancy myself a gardener, but my plants might argue otherwise. They endure periods of intense care followed by stretches of benign neglect. Much like my garden, my writing career has its peaks and valleys. Although, I tend to be overly critical of myself. I might write more often than I care to admit. 

Being an every-so-often gardener has its charm. There's something endearing about flowers that bloom despite occasional watering. Similarly, my writing flourishes in fits and starts, producing the occasional gem. 

My debut novel, "The Midas Protocol: Midas Files Book One," emerged from such a period of sporadic creativity. The thrill of seeing it published was akin to witnessing a rare flower bloom after weeks of neglect.

When it comes to writing, the parallels to gardening are hard to ignore. Both pursuits require patience, attention, and a nurturing spirit. Just as gardens need sunlight, water, and care, books need inspiration, effort, and revision. The process of nurturing a story from a seed of an idea to a fully-fledged novel is much like watching a plant grow from a tiny sprout to a majestic bloom.

To be overly critical, ,y first book, "The Midas Protocol," is a testament to episodic creativity. Written over sporadic bursts of inspiration, it tells the tale of intrigue and adventure. Much like my garden, which boasts an eclectic mix of plants that somehow coexist harmoniously, my book weaves together diverse plotlines and characters. It's a reflection of the unpredictability and beauty of sporadic creativity.

Pictured: "The Lower Rose Garden." Let's face it.  He recently weeded it and added to it a collection of knock-out roses of various colors. 

The Journey Ahead with Call of The Minotaur

But now, I face a new challenge. Writing the second book in the series, "Call of The Minotaur," requires a shift from being an every-so-often gardener to a more consistent one. I need to cultivate a disciplined writing routine, much like Justin Quayle's unwavering dedication to his garden. To bring this sequel to life, I must tend to my ideas regularly and nurture them into a cohesive narrative.

Making this transition isn’t easy. It involves changing habits and adopting a more structured approach. 

Just as a garden flourishes with consistent care, a book develops richness and depth through regular writing sessions. It means setting aside time each day to write, even when inspiration doesn't strike. It means pruning unnecessary plotlines and weeding out distractions to focus on the core story.

Consistency is often the most challenging part of any creative endeavor. It requires discipline and perseverance. There will be days when the words flow effortlessly, much like a well-tended garden in full bloom. But there will also be days when writing feels like pulling weeds in a parched garden. It’s during these times that the true test of a writer's (or gardener's) dedication comes into play.

The rewards of consistent effort are undeniable. A well-tended garden bursts with life and color, just as a diligently written book brims with vivid characters and compelling plot twists. Regular care transforms both gardens and stories, allowing them to reach their full potential. The satisfaction of watching a garden flourish mirrors the joy of crafting a well-rounded narrative.

Writing Lessons from the Garden

Gardening has taught me valuable lessons about writing. It has shown me the importance of patience, the value of nurturing ideas, and the beauty of watching something grow over time. It has reminded me that creativity, like gardening, requires a balance of spontaneity and structure. Both pursuits involve trial and error, learning from mistakes, and celebrating small victories.

As I embark on the journey of writing "Call of The Minotaur," I carry these gardening lessons with me. I aspire to become a more constant gardener in my creative endeavors, tending to my ideas with care and dedication. Just as a garden evolves and matures, so too will my writing. The process may be demanding, but the rewards will be worth it.

Gardening and writing share remarkable similarities. Both require patience, dedication, and a nurturing spirit. While I may be an every-so-often gardener, I am determined to adopt a more consistent approach to my writing. With each word I write, I am tending to the seeds of my story, nurturing them into a captivating narrative. And remember, whether you're an urban plant enthusiast, a casual gardener, or a fiction writer, the lessons of the garden can inspire and guide you on your own creative journey. Just try not to be overly critical of yourself. 

What's Going on Here?

In the first photo, I planted an Amber Ghost Japanese Maple. The idea was to create a little dappled privacy over the red deck next to it. Now, around it, I planted periwinkle, which. somehow i thought was called myrtle - this goes back to a summer job I had as a landscaper.

Elements of this landscaping background are evident in The Midas Protocol. I loved a Japanese garden that was at the real home of a former Heinz CEO, yes, of Heinz ketchup fame. That home was in the posh Fox Chapel area of Pittsburgh and about 4 or 5 of us were there all day - I believe it was Tuesdays - to weed and water, prune, and make the place look as nice as possible. The Japanese garden on the premises was my inspiration for Eva Bingham's Garden in the Midas Files.