If I were not a book coach, I would work with plants in some way. True story: when I was 7 or 8, I asked for a load of topsoil for my birthday so I could have my own vegetable garden. My wish was granted, and I had a bumper crop of cucumbers and string beans that summer.
One by one, my botanical dreams are coming true. After waiting a lifetime, I have a greenhouse—my very own she-shed—where I reproduce plants from cuttings and seeds, and overwinter the geraniums, hibiscus, and bougainvillea that would suffer our blustery winters if left outside. I’m not alone in appreciating the greenhouse magic; when my granddaughter walked in for the first time, she looked around wide-eyed and asked in a whispery voice, “what is this place?”
I entertain the idea of living off the land, of self-sufficiency, although my husband and I are solely hobby farmers. Aside from the year-round vegetable garden, we press olives for oil and gather honey from our bees. I make olive oil soap, beeswax candles, and dry herbs and fruit for tisanes and snacks. The next item on my wishlist of botanical tools is a distiller, so I can make essential oils.
The idea of taking raw material and distilling it to its essence fascinates me. Think of a rose. When you see the rosebush, you recognize the plant and flowers as roses, yet even without the plant in front of you, you can imagine and identify the idea of a rose by simply smelling a drop of essential rose oil. Don’t get me wrong, I love to see the beauty of a fresh cut bouquet, but in the dark of winter when the garden is bleak, smelling a drop of rose oil conjures the beauty all the same.
As a book coach, I help writers distill their ideas. We’re surrounded by too much information to digest, too much noise, too many distractions, yet we are told that sharing content, being generous with our knowledge, and entertaining the readers is the best way to connect with our audience and build our brand. The irony is not lost that I, too, am contributing to the very problem that plagues us—too much information.
Rather than add abundant bouquets to our overfilled world, better to distill your ideas to their rich, recognizable essence. Pour them all into the wide end of the funnel, then steam them under pressure until only the pure essence comes out a drop at a time, densely perfumed, essential, and potent.
Easier said than done. How do you distill many ideas and a lifetime of knowledge to the essence of your body of work? I’ve distilled my answer to three tips:
Think of each thing you write as an opportunity to practice the craft of writing, whether it’s an email, marketing copy, an article, or a book, it all counts as writing.
Remember your reader: what information do they need to know? Does everything that you’re sharing add to the conversation or help them get to know you better? If not, leave it out.
Pour out your words, then let them sit for a day before revisiting to edit out the unnecessary parts.
We all want to be helpful but perhaps we can learn to say more with less.
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