The Gardener's Succession Planting and the Editor's Kill Fee

There are two ways to ensure a harvest. The first is the gardener’s method: succession planting. You don’t sow all your lettuce seeds at once, risking a single, overwhelming glut followed by a barren patch. Instead, you plant a new, small row every two weeks. The work is staggered, the yield is continuous, and the system is designed for resilience. A late frost might claim one planting, but the next is already germinating safely indoors.

The second is the editor’s method, represented by the ‘kill fee.’ This is a clause in a contract guaranteeing a writer partial payment for a piece of work that is completed and submitted on time, but which the publication ultimately decides not to run. It’s a brutal, efficient mechanism. It acknowledges the effort expended but severs the project cleanly, preventing it from clogging the pipeline. The work is killed to make space for what’s next.

These are two profoundly contrasting approaches to managing the flow of our efforts. Succession planting is additive and patient. It builds a foundation of constant, low-stakes production. It accepts that not every seed will bear fruit, but it mitigates that risk through diversity and timing. The kill fee is subtractive and decisive. It is a tool for triage, a way to surgically remove a project that is no longer serving the larger purpose, even at the cost of sunk effort.

In our own work, we often default to one mode or the other without realizing it. The succession planter is the person with five different projects in various states of progress, each one a small bet placed against an uncertain future. They are never without something to tend to. The kill fee practitioner is the one who can, with grim resolve, highlight a folder full of completed work and drag it to the trash, declaring it no longer relevant to their current direction.

Neither approach is inherently superior; they are tools for different seasons. When you are building something new, exploring a field, or cultivating a skill, think like the gardener. Plant often and don’t fear small failures. But when you are refining, focusing, or preparing to ship, you must sometimes think like the editor. Be willing to pay the kill fee on the projects that, while complete, no longer serve the main plot. The real art is knowing which field you’re standing in.

Notes & further reading

A few pages I came back to while writing this: