The Farmer and the Writer

posted in: The Writing Life | 35
Reading Time: 3 minutes

narrative-794978_1920It’s a lot like farming, this writing business.

Farmers don’t get paid until long after they’ve planted the seed. They clear the field, they till the soil. No one pays them for that. They plant the seed. They water it. They cover the small plant when a late frost comes. They keep the weeds from choking it out.

And they wait.

And they wait.

And, finally, there’s a harvest.

Except when there isn’t.

Most years there’s a harvest. Some a hundredfold. Some sixty. Some thirty.

But there are long years of drought, too, sometimes.

Do you keep planting every year? Do you believe that this year the rains may return? Do you hold on to the hope that this year may bring the increase?

Writing is an act of faith.

Each day there is a chance that a tornado will come, or a hail storm. Or bugs. Each day the computer may crash, the publisher may go bankrupt, or the editor may hate your story.

Each day you toil under the noonday sun, lugging the water buckets, trying to save the thirsty plants. Each day you labor, trying to scratch a few words onto the barren pages of your manuscript.

Do you know any farmers? They are a hearty breed. They don’t give up the farm when one crop fails. They go out and plant again.

I launched a course on Udemy this month and I’m in a Facebook group for instructors. They talk a lot about passive income. They want to put up Kindle books and they want to put up online courses, because they want a passive income stream.

And I get that. I’m not getting any younger myself and since my long-suffering husband died with no life insurance, I’m having to work pretty hard to keep the lights on. God knows I’d love to get me some of that passive income.

But God blesses me with work each day. He hasn’t told me to plant the crops and then just sit back and take my ease while he waters them and makes them grow.

Wherever you are in your writing journey, you need to give up the idea of passive income. You have to do the hard work of writing the book, and you have to do the hard work of finding an agent or self-publishing the book, and you have to do the hard work of marketing. Writing and selling books doesn’t qualify as passive income.

Yes, the blackberries may spring up every year, with no help from the farmer. God showers us with riotous abundance, because that’s the kind of God he is—he’s a prodigal God, as Tim Keller would say.

But we don’t live on blackberries. And ever since Adam rebelled, we have had to eat by the sweat of our brows.

So what’s my point?

The happiest writer is the one who is not looking for the day when he can sell the million copies—build bigger barns—and say to his soul, “Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.”

No. The happiest writer is the one who loves to turn the soil, loves to plant the words, loves to water them and weed them, loves to start his stories in the morning sun and plow on through, until he reaches the afternoon shade. The happiest writer is the one who loves to sell his produce at the Farmer’s Market. Who enjoys watching people bite into his stories and taste the goodness.

Take joy in the journey that God has you on. If it’s hard work, that’s a good thing.

I’m afraid we’ve grown to believe that working is not a good thing. I’m afraid we’ve become convinced by the TV that the goal is to get rich and retire. And I’m afraid that leaves a lot of writers feeling dissatisfied.

If that’s you, it doesn’t matter how much you make: It will never be enough.

Some writers work hard all their lives and they never make much money. They do it because it’s who they are and it’s all they’ve ever wanted to be. They are happy, digging in the soil of the story world and bringing forth fruit.

And that’s my wish for you this day. Not passive income, but a day of good hard work in the sun and the soil.

~~~~~~~

Speaking of Udemy and making money: It’s the last day of the Grand Opening Sale. So if you want to bite into my produce, now would be a great time to do it. Just imagine we’re at the Farmer’s Market right now, and I’m holding out a sweet tomato to you. :)

 

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35 Responses

  1. Tina Cho

    Great post! I love the analogy. Only God can give the “increase” to our writing work. Thank you for this reminder.

    • sally apokedak

      Joanne, seeing your smiling face in my comments, makes blogging worthwhile. I haven’t seen you in a couple of years at least–I only met you at one conference, I think. But I remembered you, because I loved your smile.

  2. Jarm Del Boccio

    Sally, this post brought tears to my eyes. So true. We write because God gave us the gift and desire. I’m looking forward to meeting you at the WOW Retreat in two weeks. Looking forward to your course, too. Blessings!

  3. Jennifer Dyer

    Sally,
    Your posts have been so timely! I read your post on editing one day before I got a bunch of critiques back from a contest. I needed those words you shared! :whew:
    This morning one of my critique partners who used to be a marketing exec said she’d never undertaken such a difficult career. Your farming analogy fits so many situations perfectly. Thanks for being an encouragement in so many lives. :pompom:
    I hope more people jump into your Udemy class. I loved it. :thumb:

    • sally apokedak

      Thanks, Jennifer. I appreciate your words of encouragement. I often feel like your marketing exec friend. Or Moses who said: The years of our life are seventy, or even by reason of strength eighty; yet their span is but toil and trouble; they are soon gone, and we fly away.

      All my jobs have been hard. All my jobs have stretched me. And yet, I’ve loved every job so much. I feel alive when I’m working hard and bearing fruit.

      In every job there seems to come times of drought when the work is not so much fun as it’s just plodding along the dusty furrows. But if we keep going, we usually do see the harvest eventually.

      • Jennifer Dyer

        Love the Moses quote!

        I took a Bible study a fear years ago that compared many parts of our lives to working a vineyard. Apparently, it takes around 18 years from first planting of the grapevines to turning a profit. Like raising children, perhaps like writing books. As difficult as it is, I love putting words on a page and watching them grow into a story.

        Thanks for all you do, Sally, and for how much you help so many of us grow!

  4. Kristen Joy Wilks

    A lovely reminder, Sally. That is what I am attempting this morning. Digging deep into the story soil and changing what I’ve written for the better. With a new puppy this is proving difficult. . . we’ll see if I can get anything done. But at least I’m making the attempt.

    • sally apokedak

      Everything is difficult with a new puppy. But they’re worth it. Nothing cuter than a new puppy. Well . . . a new baby is cuter. But puppies run a close second.

      • Kristen Joy Wilks

        If you guys want to see exactly how cute our puppy is, I have pictures up on my blog. Her name is Princess Leia Freyja. . . we had several rounds of voting for her name and ended up using the runner up as her middle name. Besides, they rhyme.

  5. Trine

    Thank you for this perspective. Living in central California, I do know farmers and I do know drought. Good analogy. The best is that we know God provides the rain and the harvest in our fields, our lives, and our writing!

  6. Hannah Hall

    Oh, Sally, can I say that this is my favorite post of yours ever? It is. So lovely. And so true. And I am so very guilty. And today, as I try to pack for vacation and clean my house for a showing AND get my website back online after some horrible hacker went to work on it, I am thankful for you reminding me that this will never be a passive business.

    As David told Solomon, “Be strong and courageous and do the work.” It’s overwhelming and hard and horrible sometimes, but, for a writer, it’s part of the calling. And if it means obeying God, then the blessing in the end will be worth it. I think. ;)

    Thanks, Sally. I appreciate this today so much.

    • sally apokedak

      Oh. I’m sorry you were hacked. I’ve had that happen before and it is not a fun thing.

      Praying you will sell the house and have a relaxing vacation. Because even though we are to work and not sit around passively, we all need to rest, too. And you’ve not had any rest since before that little Fish Stick was born. So . . . do allow yourself to rest, Hannah.

  7. Janet Surette

    Hannah read my mind. That was my favourite post of yours ever. It is timely encouragement for me and a great blessing today. Thank you for clarifying the calling in the midst of the business of it all.

  8. Lori

    As I sit here at the computer bouncing my legs to keep them from falling asleep and working my neck back and forth before it cramps, as I resist the urge to go get another day job or give in to the whispers from the enemy that everything I write is useless, you have blessed me today. Keep digging and sowing, weeding and watering. By God’s good grace, I will too. One day we’ll hear “Well done,” and it will all be worth it.

    • sally apokedak

      Of course you can’t be in women’s ministry unless you suffer, right. You can’t encourage others unless you know the struggles they’re going through.

      And people think that writers have such easy lives. :doh:

      Glad to hear you’re going to keep on, Lori. Praying for you today.

  9. Suzy Leopold

    This is a beautiful post that warms my heart. As an organic gardener, a writer and a believer the analogy that you shared truly makes the connection for me. As you shared, I write because it is who I am and who I have always wanted to be.

    I look forward to meeting you at the upcoming WOW Conference hosted by Kristen Fulton.

    Warmly,
    ~Suzy Leopold

  10. Linda McQuinn Carlblom

    Sally, thanks for saying it’s OK not to go the passive income route. I just want to write and to be faithful in that and whatever God wants to do with it. I love this lovely, earthy post and will keep it close to reread from time to time.

  11. Debbie Burgett

    Unless you have an exceptional memory, you probably won’t remember me. But I met you at a Word Weaver’s Retreat in Florida maybe last year or the year before that. You said I encouraged you as you spoke because I smile and nod a lot. Can’t help it. If I show up, I’m all in.

    I don’t read a lot of blog posts and definitely don’t comment on them, but I’m making an exception today. And the reason I usually don’t is because I can spend all day reading in someone else’s field or wording a comment and never get on with my own farming. So I have to choose carefully where I plant my seeds.

    The reason I enjoyed it when you spoke at our retreat and have enjoyed this blog post now, is because my heart is always drawn to others who have that spiritual undercurrent that just pulls me right in. I love writing and speaking that gets down to spiritual business, yet, with a simple, unaffected sincerity that’s as easy as breathing–because it’s just who they are.

    You did that then and you did it again just now. And I’ll smile all day at the sweet tomato I took the time to enjoy. It was an hour well spent. Now, time for my own field.

  12. sally apokedak

    Thanks so much for this comment. I really appreciate your time. I know it’s in short supply.

    You’re right. Kind of. I don’t remember you. Well, I don’t remember your name. But I do remember that there was one friendly face, in that sea of friendly faces, that stood out. And I do remember telling you that I was encouraged by your smile and nodding. And I bet if I saw your face now, I would remember you.

    That was a hard retreat for me, in many ways–I was much more personal than I’d ever been. And I was worried about giving to much info and about being too preachy. So I really did need a friendly face. Thanks for providing it.

    And thanks again for reading here and for taking the time to comment. I’m honored.

  13. Debbie Burgett

    Well, this is too humorous not to reply. You were telling us to be bold and unafraid about sharing spiritual things–and all the while you were shaking inside. Priceless. That’s why you came across so real. It was real. It was so important to you that it was frightening how it would be received. But you couldn’t have spent your time or breath on anything more vital to Christian writers.

    If we’re not going to share about spiritual things (and yes, now we know even be willing to shake while we’re doing it) who’s going to? Anyone can talk about grammar and point-of-view and character development, etc., but only Christians can speak on what will truly shake the soul–and change its course forever.

    So maybe if what we’re going to say isn’t important enough to make us shake, maybe we should just sit down. And I’m going to write that down …

  14. Lorraine

    Wonderful post, Sally! Writing is hard work and staying focused on the calling is most important. We must weed out disappointment, hone our craft, and plant more words. Lovin’ it!

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