Last year when we went strawberry picking, I bought a winged pig made of metal and put it on the front porch. At the time, the writing thing was still a pipe dream. I’d finished my first real draft, I’d pitched (and been rejected), but I was still full of hope.
This year, I decided to keep up with the pig theme and bought something called a Sproutlet – which is really just a glorified chia pet for kids. (Or for dorks like me, apparently.) But the theory is that you can cut their “hair” or put it in pony tails or whatever.
So last Wednesday I decided to give it a shot and watered it up real nice and put it in my cube. After all, the directions did say something about indirect sunlight, and my place of employment keeps making this stink about how “green” this building is. Alas, after two days, nothing happened and I wondered if maybe I just got a bad batch of seed.
I went and put it in a co-worker’s cube on Friday afternoon where actual sunlight comes through the windows and when I came in on Monday – well, you can see for yourself. My piggy sprout had a ton of hair!
The obvious writing metaphor here is that sometimes though your ideas may churn away in your mind – to really germinate, you need to get out of your cube (or office, or wherever you may be holed up at the time.) Experience life. Get some sun.
The flip side of that is that these particular grass seeds are Ryegrass – which is an annual (at least in the South). Lounge about in the sun for too long, and the ideas may die before you get them down. Or as the Sproutlet directions so helpfully state: If your Sproutlet goes bald, clean the container and use as a mini planter or gadget holder (perfect for pens or paperclips!)
Which is just a fancy way of saying life is short. Paperclips or grass – the choice is yours.
And I’m throwing this up here today since I listened to it on the way into work and it just brightened my entire morning.