blog hop: why i write

Recently I’ve been flapping about, floundering as the winter dark closes in, wondering where my energy and passion and commitment lies. Where’s my creative outlet? My intellectual challenge? Somehow, flopping on the couch after work with the latest Vogue doesn’t quite count. Should I take up drawing, or knitting, or learning Spanish, or learning about — what? Or who?

While I was half-heartedly trying to pin something down, Bec at Think Big Live Wisely invited me to take part in a blog hop on writing, and everything I’d been tossing around crystallised into this:

Where was my commitment to my writing?

(In detail: Wow, I’ve been invited to write about my writing! Someone likes my writing — someone thinks of me as a writer! But — what am I actually writing? How can I write about my writing when I’m not writing? I need to commit to my writing.)

So I took Bec’s invitation as a big nudge to reinvigorate the one way I creatively express and intellectually challenge myself: not through paint or wool or spoken works, but thru pen and paper. I used the blog hop’s questions to return my focus to my writing, on why I write — and then, to start writing again, regularly.

So here goes. Perhaps you’ll find out a little more about me, and not think this too narcissistic.

What am I working on?

Right. Um. This is the question that hit the nail on the head for me. I think by now you get the idea I am not working on … enough. There is Dig In, but there should be more ‘behind the scenes’ writing, every day, that never even appears beneath my spoon-and-trowel header. Practice, as they say, makes perfect, and I’m not practising enough if I want to consider myself a writer.

How does my writing differ from others in its genre?

Perhaps a certain ‘signature’ is that I share my failures. I will never be offered a paid writing gig when I write so often about the cake that burnt, the crumble that didn’t cook, and the cupcakes that exploded. Or the capsicum the snails ate!

But I like doing that, because I think there’s a myth that if you write/blog about food, you must be good at it, all the time. 

I am not a subject expert; I’m a subject explorer. I’m waving the flag for anyone who has a dud day in the kitchen. I’m the honest one admitting it.

Why do I write what I do?

I started to write about sowing kale seeds, sweeping autumn leaves, or simmering pasta sauce to get away from my day job, which is writing and editing for a government department. That work is ‘translating’ — converting legalistic or bureaucratic stuff into plain English stuff that hopefully anyone can understand and follow. Some days I get enormous satisfaction deciphering complex information for people, hoping it may help them.

But as challenging as it is, I can’t play with alliteration or adjectives or patterns in structure or other colourful parts of the English language. I can’t play. So with Dig In, I take off my editor’s hat for a bit, maybe even break the rules, and see where the words take me.

The kind of food I like to cook and eat is ‘from scratch’, made with fresh, seasonal ingredients. And I’m not a fancy cook (I like to bake quite old-fashioned cakes) and as much as possible I want to celebrate wonderful homegrown fruit and vegies in my kitchen — and in my writing. I am lucky to have attracted readers and other bloggers who share my love of real food.

I also like exploring ideas related to this domestic sphere — doing the dishes was a fun one — just to test what I can write about that.

Oh, and I should also add, I write because I can't take photos. As regular Dig In visitors may have noticed, this is a word-focussed blog, not a photo-driven one.

How does my writing process work?

Before I pick up pen and paper, writing starts in my head. While I’m pouring a cake batter into a tin, or weeding the parsley from around the silverbeet, or just going for a walk, I’m working out an angle, composing sentences, playing with words, rearranging phrases. It’s talking to myself, I guess!  (Hey, I do live alone.) In her book ‘Writing down the bones’, Natalie Goldberg said this was an important part of the writing process. She calls it ‘composting’: turning events and words over and over before writing about them. I cannot write immediately about anything, be it a successful pudding or a failed bean crop. I need to compost it first.

But when I pick up my pen and paper, after a few false starts (where my internal editor is stronger than my writer), I can astound myself where the words will go. Even if I have mentally rehearsed it a dozen times over! Sometimes I know how to start a piece but that’s all; soon my hand flies across the page, possessed, faster than my thoughts, which tumble out, the words and phrases surprising me. Where did that come from? When writing is like that, it is magical. Even if I am just writing about toast.

I hope you don't think this was too self-indulgent! Because writing can be a selfish thrill — and writing about one’s writing, even more so. But putting my words out into the blogosphere - it' s taking the internal and making it public, and I’m always touched and happily amazed when someone tells me they’ve enjoyed a post I’ve written (the sense of community from blogging was something I never expected, but I enjoy immensely). So thank you.

Part of this blog hop was to tap other writers on the shoulder to participate. If Bec hadn’t invited me, she would gave been on my list, as she has written some thought-provoking stuff, so please do go to her blog. And someone else beat me to Carla, who at My Yellow Heart has written about her experiences being transplanted from one extreme part of the country to another.

 

Let me introduce you to:

Sarah at The Garden Deli: Sarah writes thoughtfully about the vegies and flowers in her garden and kitchen. I always come away with something to think about or to try out. And as she is on the other side of the world to me (UK), we often compare the contrast between our seasons!

Rachel at The Food Sage: Rachel is a proper-really-truly food writer — it’s what she does as a living! I’m always interested in the topics Rachel explores in her clear writing style, be it a book review or an insight into the food industry.

Jo at All the BlueDay: Jo is a fellow Tasmanian (actually, I’m a ring-in) writing truthfully and humourously about her family life. I love Jo’s voice; it’s so vivid and sharp. She often makes me laugh — and wish I’d written that.