Monday, June 13, 2011

Thinning The Crop


My grandfather was, and still is, a gardener. His old backyard—with rows of vegetables, a strawberry patch, a raspberry patch, a fence draped in grapes, and beautiful apple trees—is one of the fondest memories of my childhood. I remember one particular visit, in June, when I found my grandpa outside pulling baby apples from the tree. He ripped every other one from it's perch without ceremony.

I looked at him in horror, unable to fathom why anyone would waste all those baby apples. "What are you doing?"

"Thinning the crop." He pulled another one from the branch, and it fell at my feet.

"Why?"

"The tree can only handle so much fruit. When there are fewer fruits, the tree makes those apples bigger and sweeter. If I left all the fruit on, the apples wouldn't be very big or sweet."

I pondered this for a second. "So you're helping the tree?"

"Yes," he said. "Would you like to help?"

I nodded, and my grandfather taught me how to thin apples. Then he told me every crop needed to be thinned. You thin the grapes and the peas and the carrots and the lettuce. If you don't thin, your crop suffers because it doesn't have enough room to grow. And many spindly plants does not a good crop make.

I thought of my grandpa, today, as I went out to thin my own little garden (That's my pile of broccoli, poor broccoli). It's hard, honestly, to watch that pile of discarded plants grow. I've spent many an hour watering them. I've worked for them, and here I am ripping them out of the ground. But I can't mourn over the lost plants, because the ones that remain are much better off. They have room to grow, to be what they're supposed to be.

And of course that got me thinking of editing, since that's where I'm at writing-wise right now. I remember when I was hesitant to chop out any word. I had worked over those words! And if I cut them that meant I'd wasted time. But that's not true. Editing is much like thinning a crop. We writers take out what's in the way, so that the important stuff can flourish. If we don't, our book won't grow as it should.

23 comments:

  1. So true--I love this post :) I spent many childhood summers thinning out the carrots and beets.

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  2. I think I just worked out why the strawberries aren't doing so well :)

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  3. I love the comparison of gardening to writing. I'm doing both right now, too, so this really clicked for me!

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  4. This is how I'm feelng about picking what project to work on. I've got too many things sprouting right now and I'm not able to give any one of them the real attention they need. Thanks for the knock upside the head. I'm going to pick one and pack the others away for now.

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  5. LOL, I've been doing lots of "crop thinning" lately, too. ;)

    It's a great analogy, though. I mean, sometimes we find it difficult to get rid of words and scenes, but I keep reminding myself that it's for the greater good. I love my ms more than ever now that's it's been trimmed.

    Sweet post, thanks, Natalie!

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  6. You always come up with the best, most perfect metaphors. How on earth do you do that?

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  7. This is a sweet and thoughtful post. I don't look forward to thinning my garden. I understand the necessity but I don't like it. Thinning a manuscript can be even harder. This is especially true when you discover a scene you really, really like just isn't working. But your grandpa is wise, it cannot flourish if it is weighed down. Thanks for making the process feel more organic!

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  8. Good analogy! Quality counts more than quantity, in this case.

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  9. Most excellent analogy, AND I learned something! I had no idea that people thinned crops this way.

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  10. Great post! I spent all afternoon doing gardening stuff and messing around with squash, tomatoes, and basil. I got inside and literally thought "I should do a post about writing and gardening and use pictures from my garden..." and then I logged onto blogger and saw this in my feed :-)

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  11. Great analogy and may your garden be bountiful!

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  12. Great Memories of my dad's garden and what a perfect comparison. He also had a few peach trees along with the apples. My other favorites were the grapes, raspberries, watermelon, and strawberries. I wish I had the stamina to have a garden. I just don't do well in the heat, as you know. lol.

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  13. I try not to think of cutting out words as wasting words, because I know that sometimes, as much as it hurts, they have to go. I like your point that cutting out bits allows the other parts to be stronger. So important for novel writing!

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  14. One can also hire out the job to white tailed deer, but they'll be a bit too thorough.

    Good post!

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  15. Great analogy... I'm heading into a major round of edits, and this was a great reminder that sometimes you have to cut those words to make the ones that remain BETTER. Thanks!

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  16. I love how you relate so many different aspects of life to writing. Thanks for the great post. Good luck with your garden! Can't wait to see how your crops turn out -- both the veggie kind and the writing kind. :)

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  17. Gardening is a great metaphor for writing, especially since in a way we're creating something or making something grow in our work. My stories are always too long, so editing is definitely difficult. But I wouldn't want people to end up skipping over parts of the story because they got impatient, so editing is definitely important and necessary.

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  19. Okay, really can't type with a 3yo in my lap. :)
    Loved the post.
    The toughest part for me is deciding which words, ahem, plants must go. :)
    What a sweet post. Thanks!

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  20. Very true! I used to try and make a bad paragraph sound good. I watched "The Secret Window" and how Johnny Depp's character just hit the delete button, so I finally grew the courage to do that.

    Even if it was a fictional writing moment... some real writer had to write the scene.

    Thanks for sharing about your grandfather-- and I learned a gardening tip!

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  21. Great minds and all - I had this partially drafted when I read your post on Monday: http://cpatlarge.blogspot.com/2011/06/cant-see-forest-for-trees-nice-to-know.html

    Keep pruning!

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  22. Weawy weawy wuv your anawogies! :)

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