Newsletter 19: Fertilizer Is Just A Nicer Word For Sh*t

March 2025

Canola against a blue sky. This pic is so similar to my memories, there just need to be some big fluffy clouds. (Image courtesy of Unsplash. Photographer: Mak)

In seventh grade, when the weather was nice, I’d walk to and from school. I didn’t walk along streets or traverse sidewalks. I walked through a large canola field. We school kids walked it a lot. There was a small well-worn path meandering through the field proving just how often we walked it. But, the field still grew things. So, once the earth had thawed and the weather was safe, the farmers would begin to plant it.

One day, during my first spring walking home from school, my friend and I were halfway through the field when suddenly we caught a whiff of something… off. Glancing around we noticed a truck driving the field in a specific pattern. Strange. Usually it was a tractor. And this truck had a specific kind of tank. Then we saw what it was doing.

Spreading fertilizer.

As we looked back, we saw that our retreat was blocked by several inches of fresh fertilizer. So plow forward we must, through a narrow window of escape that was rapidly closing.

Now, let’s be honest and call it like it was. When I say fertilizer, we’re talking about manure. My friend and I were almost completely surrounded by a field of stinky, liquefied cow shit.

To this day, I believe in my heart we could have made it out unscathed. But the young fellow driving the truck suddenly noticed my friend and I, two slightly awkward seventh graders, trying to speed walk through his field. We saw him smile, saw the glint in his eyes, saw him swerve a hard left, and my friend and I both knew what was about to happen. The farmer started driving ahead of us, gleefully dumping fertilizer down the entire path, destroying our only hope of a clean escape, laughing as he went. Then, he circled us with an extra layer of the stuff, close enough that we got splattered just a bit, and gave a friendly wave as he drove off. It was now impossible to move in any direction without walking through a moat of poop.

So, in our thin canvas shoes we forged forward, sinking into a mud made of soil and shit that came up to my mid calf. And it was runny. It splattered and squished and oozed into our shoes and socks and through our jeans.

And just like the farmer, my friend and I laughed. We seventh grade cussed and gritted our teeth and tried not to breath too deeply. And we persevered until we finally made it to the other side. Stinky and tired and now late for supper and in a hurry to get back for our science fair.

The shit washed off in the shower, the clothes cleaned up under the garden hose and a good laundering, we got an A on our science fair project, and soon the field was sprouting and green and beautiful again. And we continued to walk it.

I have no idea if the local farmers were bothered by us walking through their fields. They never told us not to and they always waved. And that young fellow driving the manure machine honestly seemed to just be teasing us. As a country girl, I wasn’t offended. It seemed like a good joke. And a great way to prove I was definitely not squeamish. In fact, I felt pretty badass when he realized he couldn’t get me to make a ‘this is so gross’ face despite being ricochet sprayed with poop.

That field is a lot like life. Sometimes, I get midway through something and think, “Well this sucks.” Or I step into a situation expecting one thing and discover “Nope. This is actually really shitty.” Then I take one step at a time, through the ‘fertilizer’, sometimes even laughing, on my way to the other side of it all. And then, the sprouts appear. And then I get to enjoy the verdant beauty and momentary calm. Until the next fertilizer truck comes by. Because I can’t control the field, I can’t control the farmers, and I can’t control the literal shit storm. But I can decide how I walk through it all.

Are We There Yet?

Adam and I recently purchased a new printer made solely for black and white projects. And, it’s great! We’re using it to print Manly Hero for our final round of edits, because sometimes I just get tired of looking at the computer screen and also because I think differently with pen and paper. And compared to our much-loved, twenty-three-year-old printer (which we’re still keeping, btw), it is so fast!

We’re also moving forward with another version of the cover, which is still a bit difficult to nail down. How to keep the book obviously lighthearted fantasy, without looking too much like a middle grade book? It’s an interesting balancing act. But I think we’re getting there.

And lastly, I’ve been thinking about releasing my romance novels under a pen name. Not to hide that I write them, but simply for the ease of readers finding what they want. It makes sense for me to keep my spec fic, sci fi, and fantasy under my name, but I’m not sure that writing romance under the same name makes sense for the reader. So, I’d love your thoughts on this. Especially if you are a reader of several genres. I really appreciate the feedback! :) (And feel free to expound on your vote in the comments.)

Honey For The Soul

Here’s what has been bringing me joy and soothing my soul as of late: chocolate, Survivor, and the US & UK versions of the TV show The Traitors. Sometimes I just need to cuddle up, eat a piece of really good chocolate, and watch some people do some amazing things on an island, or play some silly games in a beautiful Scottish castle. You know, like we all do. ;) Also, season 48, episode 5 is probably the best episode of Survivor I’ve ever watched. Two awesome humans being honest and being there for each other, despite the game, is amazing. ❤️ That’s all I’ll say — no spoilers here.

Bye For Now

I’ll be back to posting more regularly again because it’s time to see what grows out of the manure of the last few gray, overwhelming months. And I hope that you too are feeling the energy of growth and acceptance and hope. Because despite the shit, I promise you we all still have the hope of beauty, life, and community.

Love you, Petra ❤️

P.S. Remember to pop into the comments and let me know what you think about pen names or no pen names. I’m really curious! 😀

---

Thanks for reading! As an indie author, I really appreciate your support. :)

Want to share this with someone? That would be awesome! Here’s a button for that:

I love hearing your thoughts and comments on these posts. As always, this means I’m trusting you the reader to give me the benefit of the doubt if I say something weird, or create space for something which doesn’t align with what you think or where you are in your journey, just as I’ll do for you. And please extend the same courtesy to fellow commenters. This is a space to respect each other and the fact that being human is both amazingly beautiful and fucking complicated. Thank you for your respect.