Round Each New Corner....

The road goes ever on and on, said the Hobbit, and thus it is also with work in the garden.  As you near the end of one stretch of edging, weeding, or pruning, another space presents itself to the eyes and wakens the imagination, as it asks you to attend to its particular needs or potentials.

Spade an edge clear of twisting, burrowing tendrils of grass, making a clean border twixt lawn and garden, and the neat line of fresh soil calls attention to the weeds lurking between favoured plants, or highlights the dying tussocks that now slump down across next winter's daffodils and next spring's irises.

Though the spade in your hand still has more work to do, other tools are calling - hoe, weeder, secateurs, and rake, all crying out for their chance in the sun.  A bare patch of soil is begging for a cutting, seedling or rhizome from some other, overcrowded corner of the garden.  Perhaps the shade that covers that bare patch says violets, or the bright sunlight asks for a daisy or gazania. 

A newly mowed lawn makes even a slightly dishevelled herb or flower bed look like the proverbial sore thumb - though a wind such as the one that galloped through the Blue Mountains last night and this morning will soon cover such distinctions in a carpet of tattered leaves and torn twigs, and the grass rake will stand up eagerly, hoping for employment.  And so the work begins anew - and all the while the words are gathering in an unused corner of your mind, preparing to leap onto the page when you return to your desk.

For me, the routine work of the garden - be that garden a few square metres next to the house, or a few acres of squarely spaced watermelon or pumpkin vines unfurling their first large leaves towards the sun - is a meditative time in which my mind can wander far and wide across memories both past and future, undisturbed by the demands of society. 

Characters long forgotten, or newly created, can act out their parts on the broad stage of our imagination, unfettered by mere reality, while the hoe continues inflicting its routine, repetitive destruction on the weeds that have dared colonise the territories around these favoured plants of mine.

Tempus Fugit

With all my creative efforts going into the final chapter of my novel, and most of my remaining time going into preparing for the oncoming fire season - mowing and clearing - as well as helping out with a variety of family issues, I've lost track of my blogging - again.  In the absence of any writerly thoughts to offer you, can I instead present a few instances of the beauty that surrounds me, whenever I have the good sense to get outside and enjoy it....?

Australia's own jacaranda - a white cedar about to bloom

The bush has so many tiny treasures - we just need to move slowly enough to see them

The grape vines along my garden fence, enjoying Spring rain and sunshine

Misplaced Omniscience

Living in the moment - it is what we do, even when our thoughts are drifting back over past events, or trying to envisage or shape possible futures.  How much do we know, in this moment, of the infinite previous moments that have helped build and shape the present we live in?  We certainly cannot know our future, and can do no more than estimate possible futures.

As an author, we are, in effect, God - we know everything that each of our imaginary characters does not know, or knows only partially - we can reach out to any point in the time line of our story and amend acts, thoughts, words, and emotions, and bring to our story the logical consistency that the reader expects from us.

I could ask why the readers, in the face of the many apparently random facts and logical inconsistencies of their own lives, expect me, a mere scribbler, to produce a mini-universe that is consistent and logical, but that would be so hypocritical, given the similar demands that I have placed on so many other authors over the decades.  To be fair, I also find myself expecting such consistency and logic from my political representatives - and look how often that comes to fruition.

So, expect it, we do - thus, when working your way through that crucial second draft, keep in mind that spelling and grammar errors are possibly the least of the problems you need to be alert to.  Your editor, with pedantic eye and punishing pen, will find those, should you travel that far.

No, what you need to beware of are those leakages from your omniscient, authorial knowledge to the limited understandings held by your characters.  It is something I am constantly on watch for, as it is so easy to allow the protagonist to know something that he/she should not - at least, not at this point in the story.

I don't know about the rest of you, but I find that I need to be especially vigilant for this problem as I slide back and forth along the time line of the story I am working on.  Does anyone have an easy, guaranteed method of avoiding this sort of mistake?