What Gardening Taught Me About the Creative Writing Mindset

I recently shared a version of this reflection with my newsletter subscribers, but I also wanted to post it here—for anyone considering the creative process, writing at their own pace, or how inspiration sometimes grows slowly, like a good tomato.

WRITING LIKE A GARDENER

I’ve spent lots of time in the garden this spring. My husband has the real green thumb, but on our 2-acre property, there’s room enough for both of us. While his Virgoan nature prefers order and tidiness (“Look at the right angles on that hedge!”), I lean toward a wilder, more unkempt vibe—think English cottage garden, with rambling hawthorne bushes and chaotic wild roses. Still, it works.

SLOW WORK, DEEP ROOTS

Hello, bees!

Something about the rhythm and discipline attached to planting, watering, weeding, and carefully observing things reminds me of the merit of hard work. You can’t rush a tomato, and you certainly can’t shake your finger at a sunflower and scream, “Bloody bloom faster!” You have to wait… and trust the process. And enjoy the process.

I’m trying to bring that same mindset into my writing.

WRITING AT A HUMAN PACE

I’m polishing my next novel—Secondary Feathers—this summer, scheduled for release on September 15th. I’ve given myself permission to “ice the cake” without panic—to cut, rearrange, and reimagine at a human pace. I’m working from a place of engagement, not fear.

It’s the difference between hacking away at edits to hit a deadline and shaping a story like a sculptor, listening to what it wants to become. Okay, that sounds a bit melodramatic—but you get the picture. I love this story, I love these characters, and I especially love the ending. I can’t wait for you to read it. You can learn more about Secondary Feathers here)

A little audio snippet from Secondary Feathers

FUTURE STORIES TAKING ROOT

As usual, books are simmering on the back burner—because there always are.

• One is a Wizard of Oz retelling set in 1978 called Some Place Like Home—a wild idea that’s been on low heat for 11 years. It finally feels ready to take root. I’ve gathered music from the era, pulled vintage photos for mood boards, and filled a notebook with snippets and stray lines. There’s even a 55k partially finished draft with some real gems in it. But it’s not a race—it’s an unfolding.

• The other is the novel closest to my heart: The Saving of Stevie Sparrow. It’s taken the scenic route—starts, stops, U-turns—but it keeps asking to be written. Its themes of emotional parentification and codependency echo my own childhood, so writing it has been both healing and uncomfortable. It’s hard. It’s raw. But it’s coming. Stevie will get there. And when she does, I think I’ll finally be able to set down a story I’ve been carrying for most of my life.

• If you're interested in more in-depth updates about those WIPs, as well as a really cool giveaway I'm doing, you can subscribe to my newsletter here.

  
  

CREATIVITY ISN’T A RACE

I think there’s power in not rushing.

Of course, choosing slowness in a fast world is easier said than done. There are still deadlines—both self-imposed and for my audiobook narration work. And yes, I do get a dopamine hit from checking off boxes (I am a Capricorn, after all). But I’m letting go of the illusion that faster is always better, or that more output equals more value.

Everyone is different. Each of us needs to honour our creative processes, whatever they may look like.

I hope you’re honouring yours, too.