Thursday, February 22, 2018

Yurtle the Turtle and the Blue-ish Cake

I love a good theme. If didn't have a job and a freelance business and literary aspirations and bills to pay, I would spend a good portion of each day plotting events, outfits, photos, and food all around fun themes. Recall, if you will, the Summer of Tiki, in which three months of my life literally disappeared into the bottom of a Mai-Tai glass. So I have refrained, in the interests of semi-adulthood, from behaving like the Lord of Toad Hall and dashing off on each new idea's whim. But woman cannot live on responsibility alone. And last week being the occasion of the First Lady of Frosting's (FLOF's) birthday, I was fairly jiggling as I inquired, "Would you say I've been well-behaved? Would you say I haven't been carrying on an extended affair with my hot glue gun? Would you say I deserve a treat?" The FLOF looked at me with wary side-eye, before I began peppering her with the usual question of "What color is your birthday party going to be this year?" Admittedly, the FLOF has never asked for a theme color for her birthday, but for the last two years, I suggested it, and possibly even picked the color for her. I'm not sure it's cricket to decide someone's birthday theme for them, but we (okay, I) Googled her number of years and found that Sapphire is the usual color for such anniversaries (and what is a birthday, if not an anniversary?) So, the Sapphire birthday theme was set. The game was afoot.

I had a vision. Modest, but in my mind, totally achievable. Blue birthday hats with sparkly blue pompoms and beads glued to them. Several craft store and dollar store visits later, I realized that blue birthday hats aren't a common thing to sell in quantity. Amazon will sell you 8 of them for a certain amount of money, but they weren't pretty ones. I ended up with one very large blue party hat...big enough, in fact, that with a proper brim, it would like a blue witch hat. But no matter. A few plastic flowers later, and I had blue flower hair clips, with beads and sparkly things glued to them. 

Which left the cake. Blue cake, of course. I found a recipe for Sapphire Blue cake that swears that if you add blue and violet food color to a red velvet cake, it will turn a lustrous sapphire blue. IT IS A LIE. If you add blue food coloring to a red velvet cake, it turns a muddy mauve gray. Luckily, my baking track record is well-established, and I had backup boxes of white cake mix. The idea was three layers with an ombre effect of different shades of blue. Kind of like this:

I liberally doused each bowl of batter with different kinds of blue food dye, pondered briefly the possibility that I was going to turn my innards a permanent blue, contemplated (i.e., furiously scrubbed at) the kitchen tiles' solubility in the face of blue dye, and then slid those babies in the oven to bake.

It turns out, the exterior of a blue cake actually turns a foul shade of green. Yurtle-the-Turtle green, like something that belongs on a camo vest. Why? Does it matter? Of course my blue cakes ended up with a thin layer of ugly green. Of course they did. The miracle is that they did not slither out of the oven looking like spinach death-cakes. The FLOF was certain that the frosting would hide the green edges. It did not. Which is not to suggest that the cake wasn't pretty, or that it didn't taste good. In fact, it was met with rejoicing and clamoring and most of it disappeared in under fifteen minutes. It looked okay, despite the fact that I'd already had a frosty beverage by the time I attempted writing the message on it. But there was no getting around the little green lines of Yurtle-the-Turtleness in each layer of blue.

 Ah well. It tasted good, with blue cream cheese frosting and a side of non-blue ice cream. I guess I can live with the Yurtle Blueish Cake. Maybe in another hundred years, housewives in the South will be competing to make the best crust of camo green in their blue cakes.

Behold the blue!

Well, it was fun, and everyone enjoyed themselves. In the department of blue cake, I am happy to report that nobody turned blue or felt blue after eating it, and really, as long as you have decent food coloring, it's not any harder than normal cake. It has me asking...what about green cupcakes for St. Patrick's Day? I've already proven that I can do green! 

Interested in what the FLOF is up to? She has two new audio books out! Visit her here.

Friday, February 9, 2018

My Big Opinion on "Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear" by Elizabeth Gilbert

I’m not a writer who needs to be encouraged to write. I don’t require someone to tell me to keep going at it. I don’t fear writing. I don’t question my right to write. I have to create; it’s not optional. I've been writing for over twenty years. Because sometime in my mid-twenties, I quietly decided I wanted to write novels, and write them exceedingly well. There has rarely been a week since then that I've not written, and usually it is a nightly occurrence. So, in reading through Elizabeth Gilbert’s book on creativity (let’s just say it: she wrote the book about writers, not the making of quilts or decoupage), the sections about getting over the fear of writing were yada-yada-yada to me. But the book is thoughtful, funny, and surprisingly down-to-Earth. Elizabeth snagged me with two lines of logic:  

Suffering does not add to your artistry. Martyrdom kills your creativity. 
Keep your day job. Your creativity doesn’t need the burden of being your bread.

It doesn’t need to be perfect. Just put it out there. 
The result is not that important; the process and what you gain from it are what is important.

I can see the points about avoiding drama, looking after your financial well-being, and not being a martyr. I learned all those points the hard way. I’m still learning them the hard way. But her ideas about perfectionism left a foul odor in my nostrils. Her thinking seems to be that we should lighten up, work hard at it, and then call it a day. If it succeeds, if it fails…who cares? As long as you’re devoted to the exquisite craft of writing and loving every minute of it, why hang your hat on an external outcome? Isn’t it more important to produce work than to produce perfection?

Well, why didn’t I like that? I will not knowingly put my name on something that is a slouchy, half-assed piece of fecal matter. I'm also an editor, in case you haven't guessed. And editors are genetically coded to perfect text. We are incapable of saying that mediocre will do. I am passionate about making writing the most amazing it can be, and that is what drives me. As Elizabeth points out, that kind of thinking can just as easily drive you insane. She is not a big fan of passion, though, and as a writer with longevity,  her words are allowed some weight here. She is a fan of curiosity, of following little wisps of interest that might unfurl into a fire. I understand her point to a degree…every day I collect little bits of conversations, mannerisms, watching what the people around me are doing. And those collected tid-bits usually end up in the writing, somewhere, somehow. But I will never, ever give up on making the story perfect.  

Another thing I pondered, in my boudoir of snarky thoughts, is this: It is all well and good for Elizabeth Gilbert to say that external validation shouldn’t drive you as a writer, that it doesn’t matter if you are ever published or not. She can say that because her efforts paid off in the end. She has six or so books published, one of which was a massive best-seller. But if she’d never gotten a book published? If she was in her fifties, still bar-tending, wondering if all those years of writing were worth it….would she really have such unshakable conviction that the creative life is its own reward? I wonder. Hey, maybe I’ll write a book about Elizabeth Gilbert’s alternate ending…what would’ve happened if she hadn’t eaten, loved, and prayed. No? Too harsh? 

All that said, Elizabeth’s writing about writing is really lovely and imaginative. She has such bright and whimsical ideas at times that I found myself shimmering in them. What if ideas are living entities that wait for you to notice them, take them in, and write them? If you don’t write the idea, will it travel to another writer and ask them? Can your writing love you back as much as you love it? Can you seduce inspiration by putting on a nice dress and making yourself magnetic? I really enjoyed these moments, as they are implicit permission to be wildly imaginative about the process of writing, not just the particulars of plot or character. The title itself, Big Magic, is something that I entirely agree with. Writing *is* magic, endlessly fascinating, and something that is the more precious and rich part of my life. A sacred part, if you will, a mystery…that’s what Elizabeth is getting at, the tending of the creative, magical soul within each of us. 

So, I recommend Big Magic to writers. It will make you think. It may give you courage. And if you take her advice to keep writing, consistently and with devotion, the book will be worth its weight in gold.