Going to my annual physical, I was happy to see the autumn décor in my doctor's waiting room. Even if it was a week and a half too early. I stubbornly cling to the remaining summer season.

I love seeing the colorful leaves, pumpkin cutouts, orange string lights, and pumpkin spice everything. But let's be clear about this. It's technically still summer.

My gardening - writing theme continues as long as there's a season to report on. Tuesday, I posted on the Type M for Murder blog. You can read my thoughts on preparing to garden or to write a story here: ​https://typem4murder.blogspot.com/2024/09/preparation.html  

In both gardening and writing, I believe in preparation, outlining and mapping. Do things always go as planned? Certainly not. But I find it difficult to get started, and nearly impossible to finish, without a plan.

I am a firm believer in Plotting, unlike Donis Casey at Type M for Murder. Donis is a Pantser through and through. You can read her completely different take on the writing process here: typem4murder.blogspot.com/2024/09/its-miracle.html

September is a busy time for gardeners and farmers. If you've grown a successful crop, now you have to do something with it. We're driving to the produce stands east of Pueblo Colorado soon to stock up on roasted chilies. I'll write more about this next week. Here's a photo of last year's crop. We won't purchase quite this many, but we do like our chilies!

Are you eager for fall? Sad to see summer end? Or a little of both?

Taking a break from writing and gardening, I went for a run at a local park. There is a wide greenway along the creek for many miles. Dirt paths wind through dense foliage near the reliable water source.

This is the second time I've noticed two wooden chairs. Tucked under the shade of cottonwood trees, the trees are almost hidden.

I know they weren't placed here and abandoned. They've moved. 

Who placed the chairs here? I want to assume a nearby resident dragged the chairs down the slope to the shady spot near the creek. My first impression was someone seeking solitude, but there are two chairs.

I have several theories.
1) Teens hiding from their elders to smoke forbidden substances. If so, I'd expect to see evidence of a munchie attack in the form of candy wrappers and soda pop cans, but the area is clean.
2) Young parents in need of a quiet place to escape a harried household.
3) Friends taking a break to vent about work, or dating, or just to share a laugh.
4) Retirees on a fixed income taking advantage of a nearby nature spot when their funds won't support a vacation.

Consider this a writing prompt, or just an imagination stretching exercise. Who do you think brought the chairs to this public greenway? Why? What would you do with these chairs in a relatively secluded spot?

I wonder whether the chairs will remain as the weather becomes cooler.

It seems too soon in the season, but my tomatoes are slowing down. Cool nights cause the plants to stop producing flowers and ripening fruits. This doesn't mean my work is ending. The changing weather shifts me into a different gardening gear.

In the same way, finishing a book doesn't mean I'm done writing. My focus adjusts to different tasks.

I received my author copies of a book I wrote for Annie's Publishing. It was a departure from my usual cozy murder mysteries, making it a challenge. And a whole lot of fun. I am grateful for my daughter's assistance with this book. Her input was invaluable.

The inside cover blurb reads: When Amy Brackstone and her friend Valerie join a tour group and head into the Utah wilderness, they get much more adventure than they bargained for. A series of near-perilous events puts Amy on high alert and forces her to relive painful memories. The only saving grace is Jonah Stedman, their tour guide, who is strong, capable, and hell-bent on keeping everyone alive - Amy most of all.

Drawing on my family's experiences hiking in Utah, and our encounters with the mazes of canyons, potentially dangerous wildlife, and unpredictable weather, I hope Rapid Fear is an exciting read. 

This novel is completed. I can do some promotion, making sure people are aware of the series and my installment in it. But there's no more revising. The project is done.

I've shifted my focus to the YA I'm assisting my daughter to polish. I'm outlining book four in my Rose Creek series. And I have short stories, plus two potential new series, to think about. 

Just like my writing projects are always in process, the garden is never truly done. Certainly the beds, pots, and containers may soon be sleeping under a blanket of snow for a few months. But even then, there will be tasks to be done.

This weekend, I trimmed yellowing leaves and branches from my tomato plants, cleared out green bean vines that were done producing, and harvested and dried mint and principe borghese tomatoes. In a bit of optimism, I pulled zucchini plants from a growbox and planted lettuce seeds.

It's too soon to talk about winter. We haven't even reached fall yet. There are three more weeks of summer. Let's not rush through these last precious days.
​

I was invited to list five best books with a theme. Mine is novels featuring women amateur sleuths and clever cats solving mysteries in small towns. As a bonus, all five are book one in a series.

My list appears on a fun website that is trying to replicate the joy of browsing a physical bookstore's shelves. Physical bookstores are becoming a relic. By all means, support your local bookstore! I see this venture as an aid to finding your next favorite read. It's on you whether you order through the Big A, or request it through a physical store.

To use the website, you search for a topic or theme of interest, and authors list their choices of "best" or "favorite." 

​Have fun browsing at Shepherd.com. 

Running on a trail last week, I was jarred to a halt by this sight. Two wooden chairs sitting where I would not expect. This is a public greenway. These chairs were clearly not placed here by the city.

Tucked into the foliage, set back from the trail several yards, the chairs invite passersby to sit. Relax. Contemplate the brief summer season.

Between gardening and writing, my summer has been busy. I'm shocked it is late August. Pumpkin spice everything is beginning to crowd the grocery store shelves.

Let's not rush things. The first day of fall is September 22. That's nearly a month away.  We have plenty of summer left.

I'm just getting hints of my garden drawing production to an end. I've removed a few plants that were no longer producing. But most of the plants are still going strong. 

My writing is, too. I'm nearing completion of a very rough draft for the fourth book in my Rose Creek series. I'm contemplating beginning a new cozy mystery series. I need to polish a short story. Two projects are out in the big wide world, waiting on acceptance or rejection.

All that dirt under my fingernails, or fingers hammering on the keyboard, are proof I'm moving toward something. Crops to harvest or stories to sell. Busy, busy, busy.

But those chairs, oddly placed in the thick summer growth, reminded me of the thing I'm not so good at. Stopping to enjoy the view. 

Weeding a neglected garden plot revealed a hidden treasure. I blog about pulling both weeds and words at Type M for Murder: https://typem4murder.blogspot.com/2024/08/treasure-hidden-in-weeds.html
#homegardening
#typemformurder
#writinglife ​

I am committed to the process, in gardening and writing. I love starting seeds and stories. Wondering what the final result will be. Working for weeks, months, maybe years before a project bears fruit.

I enjoyed a garden salad made from my deck garden bounty of cucumbers and tomatoes. This was the reward for the work of preparing the soil in my grow-boxes, starting seeds, protecting the plants through hail storms, and watering, watering, watering.

I have had years of crop failure, when I got very little produce from my garden. Devastating hail storms leveled a garden more than once, just as the plants reached their peak. Now I protect my container garden with hail cloth.

How do I protect my writing projects from failure? The only way is to write the best stories I possibly can, editing and rewriting, and listening to my critique partners.

I have not lost a crop since using hail cloth. I have "lost" writing projects. I have spent weeks creating proposals for my agent, only to have them shot down by the publisher. I have optimistically sent short stories off to anthologies and magazines, then received rejections. There is no fail-proof way to protect my fragile young stories.

My garden is bearing fruit. I'm trying to keep up with harvesting, and processing the herbs and vegetables for later use. I am waiting to hear news on a couple of my writing projects. I used to become anxious while waiting for an approval or rejection. Now I move on to the next story idea. When my writing bears fruit, the next steps can be as hectic as freezing and canning vegetables. 

​Relax. Enjoy where you are in the process.

Even if my garden, or my latest story idea, fails - I will keep going. Receiving the fruits of our labor is a wonderful reward for hard work, but commitment to the process will yield results for a lifetime.

Beginning next Tuesday, I will appear on the multi-author blog, Type M for Murder. But don't wait! You can read the posts by a variety of mystery authors right now! From cozy to horror, these established authors have a lot to say about writing, and life in general. You can read my introduction here.

My deck garden is approaching peak production. I'm debating canning homemade pickle relish with the excess cucumbers. I've already frozen packages of green beans we'll eat this winter.

Tomatoes are beginning to ripen. I will enjoy the cherry tomatoes on salads. The drying tomatoes will go in the dehydrator, then glass jars for year round use. Slicers I'll share with our son-in-law who loves them on sandwiches. I might freeze pureed Romas if I grow enough, to make tomato sauces later.

If we relied on our garden for sustenance, like my pioneer ancestors, we'd be in sad shape. I have the luxury of playing at gardening, using it for relaxation and to supplement our diet with the very freshest of produce. There's no pressure, worrying whether we'll survive the winter if it doesn't produce enough over the short growing season.

I'm in the same position with my writing. Like the vast majority of fiction writers, I'd be hard pressed to survive on my earnings. But I don't dabble, like I do with my gardening. I'm serious about this adventure. 

I worked a day job, a corporate drone position, for most of my adult life. There was a certain satisfaction in the work, and a reliable paycheck. The need for this career was emphasized as I began selling stories and novels. There is no way I could have survived on that meager income.

That season of my life has concluded. I'm now a retiree. A pensioner. If I budget carefully, I don't need to work for anyone. I can work as many or as few hours as I want on my writing, regardless of whether I ever make a dime from spinning tales.

But I've had a taste of success. I've made a little money from writing fiction.

I don't expect to survive from what I grow in my little garden, but I work at it diligently. I strive to improve, and to grow enough to put back for winter. I'm the type of person who dreams of growing giant pumpkins just to see if it can be done. (No pumpkins in my garden this year.) 

I am grateful I'm not dependent on what I earn writing fiction to survive. But I'd like to at least make take-a-vacation money. Honestly, buy-an-island levels of success would be welcome. I don't typically write the type of stories that generate a large income. The cozy mystery market is steady but the pay is modest. I'll keep trying, though. To write better. To write more. To reach a larger audience.

Grandiose dreams in a middle-class, mildly talented life. I could dabble. But I'm crazy enough to strive for greater achievements. I just completed a definitely-not-cozy novel. Can I get it published? Will anyone want to read it? I think of it as my giant pumpkin book. If I don't try, I'll never know.

In the meantime, I'll be working on my reliable, comfortable, cozy mysteries. And growing my dependable Defiant slicer tomatoes, chocolate mint, and stubborn, steady cucumbers.

At Colorado farmer's markets, you can buy Palisade peaches, Olathe sweet corn, and Rocky Ford cantaloupes. But hurry. You can only enjoy these special treats for a few weeks out of the year.

We have made it to the midpoint of the summer growing season in this region. Now is the time to support your local farmer, wherever you live.

It's hard to believe we've blown through June and July so fast. My modest little home garden is now producing. Every day, we harvest a few green beans. We've enjoyed kale and Swiss chard, zucchini and cucumbers. I have even eaten a few cherry tomatoes.

This is the time to enjoy the literal fruits of all that late winter and hopeful spring labor. Preparing soil, starting seeds, protecting the delicate sprouts. Watering, weeding. And now, harvesting. The final step in gardening is picking and using the vegetables. Drying, freezing, and canning what you can't use right away.

The creative writing process follows a similar path of development. I have been working on a novel for several years. It's time for the harvest: to send it to my agent. 

This is a tough step, because I'm emotional about this book. But I've spent all this time "growing" this novel. If I don't send it out into the big wide world, it would be the same as investing energy into a garden, and letting the vegetables rot on the plants.

What's different about writing fiction is that I can plant a new crop regardless of the season. After I send this book out, and begin the waiting game to see what becomes of it in the cold, cruel, publishing world, I can continue with other projects, or begin new ones. 

Writing and gardening both involve constantly renewing cycles. There is a fallow season, then a time of beginnings, the wild period of growth and fruition, followed by harvest.

Enjoy your summer garden, or the special local fruits and vegetables from your nearby farmer's market. When you're reading a book this summer, think about how many seasons it may have taken for the author to bring that story to fruition. Each book is as unique and special as that local variety of cantaloupe or corn.