Some words aren’t ready to be published once they’re set on the page. They’re half-cocked, half-baked, half-***ed. They need a bit more sun, a little water, and a lot of weeding before they’re ready to be shared with the world.
The words are in a germination period, and that period can last for hours, days, weeks, or months. Sometimes, the writer buries the bulb deep in the earth knowing full well that it has to be left alone for a time, a space. It isn’t ready for full attention. Perhaps the writer, too, isn’t ready to give it her full attention.
She, like the words, is in a germination period. She may have written the words in haste. She was angry or grief-stricken and wrote the words as though she were slashing with a sword. She recognizes that such words could wield a great blow, but it might not be the right kind of one. It could be one that damages and tears down rather than builds up or confronts a falsehood or situation in need of rectification.
She steps back. She calms herself. She waits for her strikes to become steady again. She waits for the bulb to break ground and send forth its first, fragile tendril. She settles onto her knees and coaxes it along with a lot more weeding, a little more water, and a hope for a bit more sun, and it’s then she knows her words are ready to burst into blossoms, her words are true, sure.
Image: Pink Sherbet Photography (Creative Commons)
[…] “later” is for more thoughtful writing. It’s the time of the essay or the poem, some of which take a great deal of time before they find their way to the printed page. They aren’t ready to be shared with the world, or […]