I grew up in Queens, New York, in a small apartment complex where gardening/lawn maintenance was done for the tenants. My family never owned their own home. I’ve always loved flowers, but I never gardened while growing up, except on one occasion where I planted some seeds from a flowering tree I admired in nearby Whitestone Park.
Imagine my surprise when a few years later a small tree began to sprout in our little shared garden plot. Beginner’s luck. When I bought my first home as an adult, there was lots of land. A front yard, big backyard, and plenty of other side plots next to the left and right of our house to garden. When we first came to view the house, it was in the late winter and I was only looking at the inside of the house with a young mother’s eyes. Would there be enough room for our two daughters to grow inside?
The next spring, to my surprise, little purple sprouts popped up next to our driveway. Soon, some pretty purple plants were showing. I googled some images and found out they were hyacinth. On the right side of our house dozens of daffodils grew quickly. I loved flowers and soon began to plant our front garden with the help of my young daughters. To my dismay, however, everything would be eaten by the local roaming deer population. It took a few springs until I could research what to buy and plant that wouldn’t be decimated by deer.
Geraniums, tulips, lilies; all were experiments in growing and were quickly consumed by the deer, groundhogs, wild turkey. But annuals like marigolds and perennials- the daffodils, newer planted gladiola and butterfly bushes, in all colors of the rainbow, thrived. After about ten summers, my garden and my daughters have grown. And as I started to spend more time writing during my summer vacations from teaching, my younger daughter, who has a natural green thumb, has become the primary gardener in the family.
Now what does this all have to do with writing, you may ask? Well, I have always loved to write. I won writing contests and awards in elementary school, wrote for college and professional newspapers as an adult, but put it on the back burner for a while. As a children’s librarian, I started to see a void in kids literature, so I decided to try my hand at writing biographies for kids. Two years, almost three, since my story seeds were first planted and watered. A big NYC publisher gave me a chance with my first non-fiction children’s manuscript, but then my story, like the first plants I had tried to grow, withered and died. In May of 2015, devastated by the rejection of almost two years of edits to my first story, I almost gave up entirely.
Just like the first flowers in my garden, my first stories needed editing to grow. New ideas were more successful than the first ones and I finally sold a first story this spring. Four summers of writing have passed and I have five manuscripts to show for it and am starting on a sixth this summer. Just as I had to nurture and find the right seeds for my garden, I have persevered and am planting story seeds that will grow tall and strong.