Yesterday I went to a luncheon and the parting gift was a violet. It was meant to symbolize the power of one generation giving back to its community for the benefit of the next generation. Legend has it that planting a violet leaf in potting soil will cause a new plant to grow.
Writing a novel produces some spare leaves for planting, too. They're the tangents snipped off in editing, the ideas that don’t fit the plot, and the characters who fall away. Some of these leaves wilt and die, while others are reborn in new plots and new relationships. With luck, they blossom into something lovely.
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