by Alycia W. Morales @AlyciaMorales

In his book How to Grow a Novel: The Most Common Mistakes Writers Make and How to Overcome Them, Sol Stein says, “In our not-yet acknowledged secret garden lie the seeds of some of our best not-yet written stories.” When I recently read this quote, the words “not-yet acknowledged secret garden” stuck out at me like thorns on rose stems.

Do you have a secret garden of stories you have yet to acknowledge is even there?

Because, according to Mr. Stein, that’s where the seeds lie to some of your best stories. The stories you didn’t realize exist.

How do we unearth our best not-yet written stories?

Before we can find the stories, we have to acknowledge the secret garden exists.

I believe our secret garden is the place inside ourselves we don’t want to go. Why?

Because it’s like the hall closet where we shove all the stuff we don’t want to throw away but deem useless for the moment. And when we open that closet door, all that junk is going to come crashing out, potentially causing us harm. It creates bruises and bumps that hurt when pressed. The thing is, that stuff is valuable. If it wasn’t, we would have tossed it in the trash long ago.

Like the closet, our secret garden is a place in our heart that we’ve refused to sow into because tilling the land hurts too much. Digs up rocks and worms we’ve long kept buried. The overgrowth of thorn and thistle takes too much effort to confront. We’re exhausted just thinking about it.

The details of the stories we’ve long let lie dormant are details that we’d rather forget. They cause pain. Heartache. Discomfort. They involve things like loss. Betrayal. Regret. Shame.

The things that make for an incredible story—if we can drum up the courage to face them.

Transparency in storytelling is what brings healing to others. And in the process, we ourselves are healed.

Proverbs 24:30-34 says:

I went by the field of the lazy man,

And by the vineyard of the man devoid of understanding;

And there it was, all overgrown with thorns;

Its surface was covered with nettles;

Its stone wall was broken down.

When I saw it, I considered it well;

I looked on it and received instruction:

A little sleep, a little slumber,

A little folding of the hands to rest;

So shall your poverty come like a prowler,

And your need like an armed man.

We can become very lazy about facing our past and the stories within it. We can avoid allowing God to do a work in us—to till our hearts and sow His seed—because we don’t want to go through the pain those memories stir up in us. We can bury the past while our hearts become fallow ground. Hardened to life. To relationships. To God. When we do, we allow the spirit of poverty to move in. And everything—including our creativity with words—dies.

God has a different plan for us. His garden is a secret place we can steal away to be with Him. To walk in the cool of the day through green pastures beside still waters. One where He restores our soul (mind). One where, as we face the shadows of death in our hearts, He is with us and comforts us. He anoints us, and our cup runs over. By the blood of His Lamb and the word of our testimony, we overcome evil. Goodness and mercy follow us in this secret garden.

It’s in this secret garden that the old things die off so that new things can be birthed. It’s in this garden that we find healing and peace, which lead to the ability to share our stories with others. Stories that are currently our best not-yet written stories. The ones that will move the hearts of others toward God, healing, restoration, reconciliation, life, joy, trust, hope, faith, and so much more.

Acknowledge the garden. Till it. Care for it. Bring it back to life. Dig up the rocks and the rot. With it, bring up the healthy soil. Plant the seeds and let them die so newness can spring forth. Work is a good thing. Life is good.

We’ve had far more time in 2020 to face ourselves and our immediate relationships than we’ve had … well, ever. We’ve had time to reflect on the things God has been revealing about the state of our hearts. He’s shown us things we thought we’d dealt with or overcome decades ago that are still buried and still bring us pain.

As I’ve spent more time with Him, I’ve discovered the stories within. Where I used to stare for hours at a blank screen, unsure of what to share because I didn’t want to face the emotions behind the words, my mind is now flooding with ideas and words to go with them. And rather than burying the talent God provided with the pain of my past, I am emboldened to invest it all in order to, hopefully, encourage someone else to seek the Lord and His love and healing touch.

Writer, you have something valuable and life-giving within you. Acknowledge the secret gardens. Write the stories that are birthed there. And trust God to protect and comfort you as you dwell with Him forever.

Alycia Morales is a freelance editor and writer. Her writing has been in Thriving Family magazine, Splickety Love, and several compilation books. Her editing clients have won several awards for their manuscripts, including finalist in the Selah Award. Alycia has ghostwritten The Spirit of Hospitality by Larry Stuart and continues to ghostwrite for others. She is currently working on two novels, a YA and a romantic suspense.

She is the Blue Ridge Mountains Christian Writers Conference assistant to Directors Edie Melson and DiAnn Mills.

Follow Alycia at her blogs, Life.Inspired. and The Write Editing. She can also be found on Instagram and Pinterest.

Alycia’s Twitter: @AlyciaMorales

When she isn’t busy writing, editing, and reading, Alycia enjoys spending time with her husband and four children taking hikes in Upstate SC and NC, creating various crafts, coloring in adult coloring books, and watching crime shows.