Through the Firefly Forest: A is for Apple Tree...
Can too much inspiration be a bad thing...?
This letter is part one of my Through the Firefly Forest: The Creative Journey series, where I look at the gifts and challenges of the creative life (one alphabet letter at a time)…
Dear You,
A few years ago I lived in a house-share in the South-East of England, a region rich in orchards. And in the corner of our garden, we had our very own apple tree. When September came I watched it produce fruit after fruit, spinning endless shiny green balls that ripened and scattered across the lawn.
Although I knew I should do something about those apples — gather them, eat them, cook them, heck, even try my hand at making cider — I somehow couldn’t get around to it (and neither could my housemates, it seemed). And so gradually the apples began to rot on the grass, turning soft, brown and shrivelled. I felt very guilty — the tree was giving us gifts and we were ignoring them.
Then one Sunday, I decided that enough was enough. So myself and my then-boyfriend gathered up a pile of apples that were still in good shape, then washed, peeled and chopped them. Then we baked them in a crumble and scoffed it down with tinned custard and honestly, it was one of the best things I’ve ever eaten. Not because we were particularly brilliant cooks but because we hadn’t let all of the apples go to waste.
We made something out of what we could and that was enough.
Anyway, we often think of apple trees as being garden stalwarts (gnarly guardians of granny’s cottage, tabby cats sheltering in their blossoms). But their origins are actually the forest and you can still find them there, if you’re lucky. These wilder versions are loved by animals and birds, including badgers, hedgehogs and thrushes. And, I imagine, they’re loved by forest travellers too.
So I think that the apple tree is as good a starting point as any for our creative journey through the Firefly Forest — in fact, I think you’ll find one right at the beginning of that winding path into the woods. Because creative beginnings are tough and the apple tree can teach us something about that. And this is because every artistic project has to start with that irksome thing — a decision.
For instance, how often have you struggled to move forward with your work because you were overwhelmed by that creative bane known as ‘too many ideas’? Yes, it should be a blessing, but often it just leads to guilt and panic and inertia.
For me, an abundance of ideas can often do more harm than good, especially as I’m one of those writers who doesn’t want to settle on just one form, never mind just one project. So I don’t just want to write stories, I want to write poems. And I don’t just want to write poems, I want to write essays. And I don’t just want to write essays, I want to write futuristic spoken word shows with multi-media elements…well, you get the picture. Maybe it’s similar for you in some way?
The problem is that those green and scattered ideas can end up littering your mind, freezing you into indecision. You watch them soften and rot and dissolve, then feel horribly guilty. What’s to be done about it?
It’s simple, but not necessarily easy.
Just pick one idea and commit to it. That’s it. There isn’t much more to it than that. Pick one then peel it in one long beautiful curl as you sit by the forest stream listening to the thrushes sing. But pick one.
As I said, it’s not easy. Ideas have this way of clamouring for your attention, each claiming that they are your best and shiniest and juiciest EVER (they can be complete attention seeking divas that way). Who isn’t going to freeze when faced with that kind of look-at-me drama?
But honestly, what’s the alternative, starving yourself of the satisfaction of ever creating anything at all? Well, we know where that leads — to a feeling of stuckness in life and a feeling of stuckness in yourself. You end up forever frozen at the beginning of the forest path, never quite embarking on your adventure.
So when you encounter that apple tree at the start of your journey, take a good look at the fruit that it’s offering. But know that you can’t eat all of them at once, or even ever. So just grab one — one that looks juicy, one that looks good, one that’s within easy reach, one that’s clearly been lying on the grass a while and needs to be eaten soon. One that shimmers golden in the sunlight, while the others are scarlet and green…
Or just…close your eyes and pick one at random. Then stuff a few more in your pockets for later. And then leave the rest to whoever arrives at the beginning of the forest path next. Trust me, that’s how creative ideas work, someone else picks up on them, they don’t go to waste. I don’t want to get too magical and mystical on you just yet, but it’s true.
And this idea that you have in front of you right now, the one that you picked? Look at it — the shiny round rightness of it. Feel the weight of it in your hand, sniff its greenish innocence, savour its crisp clean sweetness.
Is it the best idea in the world? Who knows. Who even cares? The important thing is that it’s yours and you picked it, so celebrate that.
Make the most of it.
Love,
Deborah x
P.S. Looking for autumn reading inspiration? Ray Bradbury’s The Golden Apples of the Sun is perfect for the chillier season.
P.P.S. Like these letters? Then consider buying me a cup of Turkish apple tea.