I spent the last nine days on vacation. Well, a “staycation” filled with manual labor in severe heat and humidity. Yes, I’m getting too old for this crap, but there is a silver lining — I never need to build another chicken coop! We built this one to withstand anything New England weather can throw at us.

As I’ve mentioned a time or two, I’m a mother to 17 chickens (among other furred, feathered, or skinned kids). In my last update, I had six adult hens and 11 female chicks, who lived in a temporary nursery coop in my house. When they grew big enough to transition into another temporary coop inside the barn, we knew we only had about three weeks before they needed to be integrated into the adult flock.

As an overprotective mom, it’s nerve-wracking and emotional to release the apron strings (they may have stayed in the house two extra weeks because of this), but the babies needed to learn the ins and outs of chicken society and hierarchy on their own. It’s something their father and I can’t provide. They must learn these life lessons from older and bigger flock members.

Thankfully, the flock leader is Flo, an angelic white brahma with a visible glowing aura.

Ever seen anything like her? We haven’t, nor do we know why she glows.

Who else would be queen? Flo’s been a born leader since she was two days old. She’s strict — no one messes with Flo — and loving and fair. No unnecessary bullying allowed, but a good, hard peck here and there to keep the younglings in line is part of life. You might remember Biff, her 2^nd in command and the muscle for the flock, from this post.

Though the adults have a coop inside the barn, they only had a temporary pen set up in the yard. We did this on purpose until the babies could integrate into the flock, or the adults might’ve gotten overly territorial. This way, everyone could experience their new space together.

The day after the building supplies arrived, we used our vacation to build this monstrous 10’ x 8’ x 8’ coop, with a chicken door that allows them entry into the barn to egg in private. We also keep an extra 5 gallons of water in the barn to keep it cool from the summer heat.

Building a chicken coop and writing a novel both require us to balance high-level creativity with rigid, technical constraints. Both are parallel journeys of messy, structural creation. And I’m not the only one to draw that parallel…

Author William Faulkner famously connected the two:

“Writing a novel is like building a chicken coop in a high wind—you grab any board you find and nail it down fast.”

Before laying out the 4×4 wood foundation, we needed flat, level ground to support the walls and roof.

Some writers create an outline, others might only have a beginning, middle, and an end. Some might not even have that. Your writing process doesn’t matter, if you ensure the story has a solid foundation to support the plot.

We dug trenches and buried wire to protect our flock from predators.

A novel needs tight boundaries to keep out plot-destroying distractions, like irrelevant subplots and tangents that threaten to kill the story’s momentum. 

Posts and beams support the roof and walls of the coop.

Major plot points support the story.

Rather than run posts 16 inches apart like you would for a house, we spaced them out to create an aviary style coop. To achieve this, we needed to run horizontal beams as well.

Rather than characters running straight from the start to the end, writers add setbacks, conflict, tension, character growth, and subplots.

Some coop builders install drop trays or “poop shelves” under roosting bars because chickens create an immense amount of waste. The dirt floor in our coop works the same way.

See the parallel to a “shitty first draft”?

Though I don’t buy into the argument that every first draft sucks, most writers embrace the reality that early drafts can be messy, disorganized, or in need of a rewrite. The editing process is the literary equivalent of raking the coop floor to keep a clean environment.

Once we built the frame and roof, we wrapped the coop with vinyl-coated, metal poultry mesh. Which is so much easier to work with than chicken wire. We still need to paint, tuck the roof under the edges, and add natural branches for extra roosts. They love their new digs!

Writers need to edit, polish the imagery, adjust the cadence, and fix grammatical errors until the prose feels smooth and deliberate.

*Please disregard the mess around the coop. It’s a work in progress.

The one-foot pitch of the roof is intentional for snow to slide off the side, rather than land in the walkway.