Writing Lessons Learned from Invasive Weeds

 For more than a decade, we tried to improve the appearance of a large flower bed along the back of our house by sowing seeds and planting a variety of flowers among the perennials that sprang up each year. Our efforts, however, were thwarted by this particularly hearty ground cover that looked green and healthy in the spring but by mid-summer took on the appearance of being untended and in the early stages of an ugly death. By this time, it had often succeeded in crowding out the prettier, wanted flowers and plants. Twice we’d worked up the entire bed—approximately twenty feet by three feet—in an attempt to rid the space of this vigorous plant, but to no avail, as it survived, yay, even thriving to a greater extent.    

We’d nearly given up eliminating the stubborn vegetation, resorting to the wasted effort of yanking it out repeatedly all summer long, when our green-thumbed neighbor confirmed this “ground cover” was for all intents and purposes a weed. She informed us that by attacking it with a rototiller, we had in fact only encouraged it to thrive. The only way to rid the space of this stubborn plant was to dig it up, by hand.

Imagine my distress to learn that the pretty-in-the-spring-but-ugly-by-summer’s-end “ground cover” we’d been watering for years was actually an invasive weed?  

If we wanted this space to look nice, we had but one option. Tackle the monumental task of digging up and disposing of the nasty intruder. Considering that we’d fixed up the patio for entertaining—installed a permanent gazebo, built a new firepit, purchased a new grill, table, and chairs—there was no “if” about it.

Because I loathed feeling I had to apologize for the dreadful appearance of this space right next to the entertainment zone, I determined I would confront the challenge head-on. In as many uprooting sessions as it took, I would rid the flower bed of this weed. My bad back groaned at the very thought, but the vision of a beautiful array of blooming wildflowers fortified my determination. As my grandson and I attacked the last two sections earlier today, I realized how this situation mirrors the place I find myself in when it comes to finishing the third and final book in my YA series.

Although I love my characters and their story and, of course, I do not want to disappoint the readers who are anxious to discover what happens next, the task of finishing feels as challenging as the ground-cover-riddance project. It will take persistence and determination and a lot of hard work to whip this final installment into shape. And most of the time, for a host of reasons, I don’t feel up to the task.

It doesn’t help that the storyline details are sharing brain space with the next-in-line project that, if I must be honest, is begging to be written. Some days it seems to write itself in my mind—the memoir focused on my adoption search and reunion—while I have to dig and pull for the next scene, the next chapter of the YA novel. I want the book to be done. I want to wrap up the series and give it the kind of marketing attention it deserves. But I’m struggling big time, and in all honesty, have posed the question, “Would it matter if I don’t finish it . . . ever?” I swat the thought away, before it can take root. It WOULD matter. 

So, what are my options? I can put the novel aside and dive into my memoir. But the fear is intensely real, that I’d never return to it, leaving the story that I still believe God placed on my heart, without an ending.

I can wait for the perfect writing conditions accompanied by a burst of inspiration that makes the words flow effortlessly, faster than I can record them. You know, stop feeling guilty about the slow progress and just chill.

Or, I can commit to pouring consistent time and effort—however much it takes—into finishing the book. That will mean planting myself in the chair whether I felt like writing or not. Creating realistic goals that will encourage progress. Limiting the distractions of social media, vacation planning/dreaming, and too-lengthy veg-out sessions. And some accountability strategies would be helpful, too.

I know I can do this. If I want it badly enough. If I’m willing to work hard enough. 

Just like the flower bed transformation. Last fall when my kind neighbor delivered her diagnosis of the situation, I couldn’t imagine such a monumental task. If we’d been talking about a three-foot by three-foot space, sure, no problem. But a space six times that size? Come on.

Well, I’m beyond thrilled to report that the ground is ready for a little TLC before the wildflower seeds and a few carefully chosen perennials will be planted, just in the nick of time according to my husband’s springtime planting guidelines. 

And tomorrow has been designated as a novel writing day. I’m hoping for a super productive session that propels the story forward in a major way. Although a parade of interruptions would not surprise me. I do declare, sometimes the number and severity of the roadblocks that present themselves is nothing less than astounding. But I will press on. Between You and Me will be completed. 

If you want to prod me about my progress from time-to-time, be my guest. It can’t hurt. 

Beth’s combined experiences teaching the high school Sunday School class, substitute teaching in the public school, and connecting with the teenage staff at the fast-food joint where she claimed a “back booth office” helped inspire her young adult “Choices Matter” fiction series. She's a "cheerleader" for saving sex for marriage and for "renewed waiting" because it's never too late to make wiser choices. Her “Waiting Matters … Because YOU Matter” blog helps people of all ages navigate the choppy waters of saving sex for marriage while her “Slices of Real Life” posts find GOD in the day-to-day moments of real life.

As a genetic genealogy enthusiast, she writes and speaks about her experiences as a "foundling" who located her birth parents. Her journey to find and connect with her biological family is chronicled in the blog series “A Doorstep Baby’s Search for Answers.” All of her writing endeavors can be found on her website, https://bethsteury.com.