If you’ve been following this newsletter for a while, you may recall that a few years ago we had to cut down the big tree in our yard, leaving an empty space on our property.

First, I turned the area into a mini wildflower meadow. But a couple years ago I took things up a notch with raised garden beds, thus creating the veggie garden of my dreams.

My garden is my happy place. (I’m 100% Bob Belcher here.)

I’ve written before about plants, trees, nature, and my garden’s evolution — I take a lot of inspiration from the outdoors.

That’s nothing new. (Writers have been waxing poetic about nature since the dawn of time.) But maybe there’s a reason for that.

Because any kind of storytelling — book writing, creative writing, thought leadership — has a lot in common with raising a garden.

Here are a few similarities. See if any of these resonate with you (whether or not you like to get your hands dirty, like me.)

Tip #1 - Plant the seeds.

Plunking seeds into earth, especially in the earlier, cooler months, feels almost absurd.

Every year when I plant, it seems impossible. I can’t help but to think: “Is this tiny little speck actually going to turn into a plant?”

Planting is an act of faith. As Audrey Hepburn said, “to plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow.”

The same is true of storytelling. When you’re just starting something — a newsletter, a podcast, a business, a brand — it can feel audaciously uncertain.

But that’s how everything grows. So, when in doubt: just keep planting seeds.

Tip #2 - Be patient and trust the process.

The moment I put seeds in the ground I find myself impatiently waiting for them to grow.

Sound familiar?

It’s so easy to want results NOW. To know that we’re doing the right thing. That our efforts will pay off. That people are paying attention, goddammit!

But gardening has a process: Soil, sun, water, time.

You can’t rush the process. Gardening takes its own time and so does storytelling.

If you’re working towards something, it can feel like nothing is happening. And then, one day, something new bursts forth.

A sprout. A seedling. A new possibility.

Eventually, seemingly out of nowhere, all that barren looking soil has become green and vibrant and wildly alive.

It will happen. But you have to trust.

Tip #3 - Thin the excess.

When you grow from seed, you can't be sure exactly which seeds will germinate, so it's normal to put in some extra. Once sprouts appear, the plants can be quite dense. Density isn't good for a garden, as the seedlings compete for space and nutrients. So you have to undertake a process known as thinning: cutting or pulling some of the wee sprouts or seedlings.

I find this sooooo painful, I can barely bring myself to do it. Each of those seeds coming to life feels like a miracle so I really hate to do it. (Although it does offer me a chance to enjoy some tasty and tender microgreens.)

You can probably spot the metaphor here. Let your first draft be wordy; better to have more words to work with than not enough. But after that, edit like you mean it. Focus your ideas. Trim your word count.

Thinning your words can feel like pulling teeth. But if you don't do it, you convolute your message and make the key points harder to understand. You wind up with cluttered messaging and no real impact.

So, use your words wisely. Pull the ones that aren't necessary; keep the ones that are.

Tip #4 - Be generous and forgiving.

I read somewhere that a garden “is for giving, and forgiving.”

In other words: be generous with what you produce. Don’t keep it to yourself; invite others into your garden, teach what you know, share around the fruits of your labour, give back to the land and the people and animals around you.

Same goes for your knowledge, your expertise, your unique point of view. Write, speak, share, listen.

At the same time, be forgiving with yourself.

You will make mistakes. Your garden will be imperfect; some plants might not make it while others will thrive beyond your expectations.

Your storytelling is the same. And in both cases, I think it’s a lot more fun when we work (and live) from a place of giving and forgiving, don’t you?

Keep at it. And if in doubt, put your hands in some dirt. Trust me, it helps.

Trust The Process & Other Tips From My Garden