What I Saw

Slow and steady wins the race. Each July when the desert tortoises begin lumbering around our rural Arizona property, I’m reminded of this lesson from Aesop’s famed tortoise and the hare fable.

This little guy was no larger than a cereal bowl. You can’t see it in this photo, but his mouth was all green from munching on grass. Click to enlarge.

I am simply in awe of this creature, which imparts a certain wisdom through its patience and perseverance and is one of the most resilient creatures in the southwest. Desert tortoises (found only in the Sonoran Desert – my home – and the Mojave Desert) burrow to escape the heat, and they can survive long periods without food or water since they store water in their bladders.

This was one of the larger tortoises we’ve seen on our property over the years. He was probably a mature adult, about 14” long. Look at the deep, large scales on his legs. Click to enlarge.

Another wonder: these buggers really can cover some ground – even on very steep, rocky terrain. Multiple times, we’ve found juveniles crawling up the slick rock wall with agility and grace. Could it be those columnar, bowed-out legs?

And once, I saw a tortoise at the beginning of the week down by our house, only to find him the next day two mountain ridges over at the very top. Slow and steady wins the race.

This little guy (6" maybe), spotted last week, was a little frightened when I first stepped near him, as you can see from his hiding technique: legs tucked in, head pulled close. To get a better sense of scale, look at my Twitpic in the right column (comparing this guy to my size 7 foot). Click to enlarge.

I think everyone should have the privilege of seeing these wonderful creatures each year, delivering a subtle but wise reminder to slow down, take your time, and enjoy the journey. Scroll below for video.

The desert tortoise reminds us that slow, steady work on our WIPs can lead to a completed manuscript. This medium-sized tortoise was climbing our rock wall. Click to enlarge.

For Writers: Very good friend and author Jessica McCann once said to me (when I was lamenting how much time my WIP was taking), “It takes however long it takes.” Slow and steady wins the race. Two popular theories seem to exist about the fiction writing approach, though:

1)    The “creative” slow-and-steady approach: Fiction writing is a creative endeavor that calls upon the muse for inspiration. The best writing comes about when one isn’t rushed, when ideas can percolate, and when creative inspiration strikes.

2)    The “job” approach: Fiction writing is like any other commitment or professional pursuit: dedicated time must be carved into the schedule. Daily routines, specific word counts, and targeted deadlines are paramount to completing a quality creative work.

I personally fall in the middle on this issue: I’m a freelance writer and understand the value of deadlines and committed work time. In fact, some of my best journalistic writing was created with a ticking clock in my ear. On the other hand, as I work on my WIP, I’m drawing connections and making discoveries about themes, characters, and symbolism – as well as gathering insight for scenes – that I likely would not have drawn if not for the extended period of time I’ve had to work on the piece.

What do you think? Can the process of writing a novel be a combination of both approaches? What if you’re on contract and deadline to finish a multi-book deal? In that situation, is it even possible (or necessary) to take a slow-and-steady tortoise approach to keep the creative juices flowing? Can you be creative when under pressure? What works for you?

Meet Big Red. She’s our big, bad jalopy of a tractor.

She’s also a bit of an obsession with many city folk visitors. Inevitably, after a few beers slide down guests’ gullets, the tractor will rattle to a start for the much-anticipated tractor rides. I’m not kidding …

And, OK, maybe I am the instigator. It could be my PA farm roots? Or maybe it’s an obscure scientific equation: booze + desert = tractor rides? But that’s not the point. (That’s just me rambling).

A close-up of Big Red. Click to enlarge.

The point is that Big Red had fallen into a bit of disrepair due to inactivity – until this past weekend when Hubs gave her new wheels so he could remedy some storm erosion damage. If you look closely, though, you can see that, even in her slumber, Big Red was supporting quite a bit of life … which leads me to another introduction.

Meet Matilda. She’s responsible for the beautiful artwork adorning Big Red.

I had to come back a few days in a row to “find” Matilda. I think she’s some type of orb-weaver spider. And for you spider lovers – her webs blew away during the storms. (I took these images in May). I didn’t need to feel badly about displacing Matilda when we needed to use Big Red, since Mother Nature had already done the job. Click to see the intricate designs of Matilda's web.

Once I discovered these webs, I went in search of more. And I found them. While they may be covered in dust and in need of some renovations, the webs below are still beautiful in their own way.

Ironically, this web was constructed on one of the sliders in our house-under-construction. Yes, the house project is moving slowly enough to acquire lots of exterior dirt and dust, and also squatters of the arachnid variety. Click to enlarge.

This web, located to the right of the above web, I believe, may be the “new start” – a brand new web – since the original was pretty much destroyed. Look at the detail!

Many people view the web as an engineering marvel – one of the most breathtaking accomplishments in the natural world. So the next time you see a spider web and it reminds you of inactivity or dirty, unkempt surroundings, think about it differently. It’s complex, intricate and delicate. It’s a home, a true marvel.

For Writers: Spider webs mirror the writing process in so many ways. Consider the repetition – the weaving of row upon row to achieve perfection, the connections of one thread to another.

Consider the structural components of a spiral-shaped web: it starts with a line floated on the wind and anchored to another surface, then another line floated to the existing one to make a “Y.” The rest of the scaffolding then radiates out, making a complete structure.

Then consider the natural disasters to the web that make rebuilding necessary. But also realize that within that imperfect mess, new shapes and designs start to emerge. New angles reveal themselves. When you look, you realize something beautiful exists even within the wrecked, “imperfect” web.

Maybe these photos represent the stages of our writing: the careful planning, plotting and setting of the foundation; the sometimes dusty, neglected phase; the work-in-progress phase where we repair and nurture.

And maybe this last photo, by Susan Ujka Larson, whom I met on Twitter, represents the end result: a beautiful revised manuscript worth all the hard work?

How is your writing like a spider web? Do you ever feel like you have to start over – building a new web – or do you simply add on to the foundation you’ve created?

This web photo, taken in the D.C. area, looks so different than my desert webs. Just like the architecture of novels, spider webs have their own unique imprint. Thanks, Susan, for the wonderful image. Click to enlarge..