weeding and writing

Aside from a wee bit of lacrosse, I wrote and weeded today. I got farther with the weeding, tho' with all of the rain we've had, there's so much more to do. My observation, however, is that the two endeavors are similar. I've been writing this essay for weeks now and still have not found its essence -- the voice is there, but the real thought I am trying to convey remains tied up in my tongue.

But this isn't how weeding and writing are similar.

Weeding is not complex -- it's about progress and I made some today. I had to sit on the porch and admire it; might have even pulled a stranger off the street so she could have a gander if one had been walking by.

And with the essay I made some progress. My husband, my editor, said last night, "I still don't know what it's about. Great writing, but what's it about?" This was all I needed to see the path, to see what needed to be cleared away to reveal the one true original thought. I'm still working on the essay, but can see the gloryway. The weeding around all of the flagstone and laying more to make paths where there were none reminded me that all you need to do is stay on task and what you intended will emerge.