She Writes? Yeah, but not really.

Friday, February 26, 2010 at 8:22 pm (Hack for Hire, Writing by Ear)
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I heard about She Writes through another blog I read (The Sister Project Thanks, Marion) and really wanted to join. So I did.

But I feel like an impostor. Because I keep Writing by Ear outwardly anonymous (only her hairdresser, family, and friends know for sure) (And I’m lying about my hairdresser), and She Writes asks that you use your full name, I joined using my professional creds as a longtime marketing writer. I listed my professional Twitter account and Web site on my profile. I would have rather listed this blog, but I’m more comfortable keeping business and personal separate — thinking about clients reading about my day-to-day life gives me the heebie jeebies, and I never want to have to censor what I write here because it might not be “professional.”

Oh, it’s legit enough. I’m a writer. I get paid to do it. But I’m not She Writes’ target audience. She Writes is for “real” writers. Writers who write books. Writers who get published. Writers who write stuff other people pay money to read.

The kind of writer I’d be, if only I had the ideas, the talent, the drive, the persistence, the passion…

It’s always weird to me that I don’t have all of that (any of that?) in me. I go to a bookstore and marvel at the output of all the people who DO — enough to fill every bookstore and every library in the whole wide world. People who had something to say and said it well enough that somebody else thought it was worth publishing. More than a few of them who just decided to write a book and sat down at their keyboards and did it. (Yes, I’m oversimplifying, but basically, that’s what “real writers” do. They have it in them, and they get it out!)

Why isn’t that me? You’d think it would be. I’ve been a reader all my life. I love to write. I’m good enough at it to make it a career. I love writing this blog even more. But a book? A story? A poem? A memoir? It’s just not in me. At least not now. (Not yet? It makes me feel better to never say never.)

I think part of it is I know just how hard it would be. The writing I do for work is hard enough, but I know how to do it, so I muddle through. That kind of writing — with plots and characters and dialogue and themes and subtexts — the kind of book I’d want to read — good lord, I get scared just thinking about it. Too scared to even try to learn because I’d hate myself if I just plain couldn’t do it well. That, I think, would be worse than not even trying, though I’m sure many out there would disagree. (Yeah, I know, “What would you attempt to do if you knew you could not fail?” Me, I’d write the best damn book I’ve ever read.)

But for now, for now I’ll just marvel, through She Writes, at all the other women out there who aren’t scared, or even if they are, do it anyway. Beautifully. With persistence, passion, and tons of talent.

And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have
the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise.
The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.
~ Sylvia Plath

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A confession about writing

Tuesday, February 16, 2010 at 11:35 am (Writing by Ear, Youngest of Seven)
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I have a confession: I can’t write worth a darn.

That’s really hard for a writer to admit, but it’s true. I didn’t get the gene.

I think it’s mostly a female gene. My sisters have it. They write beautifully. I only know two men who have it — one is a priest and the other is a graphic designer. They write beautifully, too.

But me — I long ago gave up even trying. I was a good little student in elementary school, but that one class, particularly in 3rd grade, was my nemesis.

Handwriting. Penmanship. Palmer method. Cursive. Many names for something I failed miserably at.

It was always right in front of me, but so far away. The letters, capital and small, broken down with dotted lines so you could see the proportions of each part, marching across the front of the room over the blackboard. We’d practice and practice, doing “rockers” and “rollers” with our pencils (pens didn’t come into play until much later), with lined paper and plain, trying to train our hands and fingers to remember the motions of the strokes. I don’t know what “method” it was, but I do know it never stuck. And it never felt right — T’s and F’s with their little hats on top, those odd G’s and S’s,impossible Q’s like 2’s, those difficult small r’s. Did you start your capital letters with a little loop at the top or with a straight line or a slight curve? Every method was slightly different.

At one point in 3rd grade, I decided my handwriting would be better if it was much darker. So I started pressing as hard as I could. Miss Hunt noticed, telling me it was much easier to read (still ugly, but easier to read). I think I got a B that grading period instead of my usual C. I also got the start of the perpetual bump on my middle finger that persisted for many, many years and the fingernail that still never grows right.

I always wanted pretty handwriting and admire my sisters’ beautiful script. I practiced and practiced until I got my signature to where I liked it, copying my oldest sister’s style. Somewhere around 8th grade, I adopted another sister’s style of printing, what my 9th grade English teacher described as a “script-print,” and largely abandoned handwriting altogether.

I consider it a lost art, one I always notice in other people. A writer friend’s pretty hand…my dad’s unique style, almost German looking, like my grandma’s…the priest I mentioned, so flowing and smooth. The comfort of being able to know who sent you a card or letter simply by the writing on the envelope. Someday I’d like a print made up of quotes and poems I know and love, handwritten by people I know and love. How personal and special that would be!

Is it still a skill worth teaching? Children get very little instruction in handwriting now. The keyboard, and printing, are king. Does it matter? Does knowing how to write cursive make you smarter? I really don’t know, but I think if I had a child, I would make him or her learn the skill and practice it as long as I could. It just seems like what literate people should know how to do, along with knowing how to read others’ handwriting.

But I’m a fine one to talk. I just tried writing a few sentences — it felt odd. I had to think about it, and I still didn’t do it “right” — my script-print creeping in in spots. Once a bad writer…

How about you? Do you have memories, good or bad, of learning penmanship in school? Do you write or print? Can you write nicely if you want to? Or is the beautiful art lost on you, too?

There are thousands of thoughts lying within a man
that he does not know till he takes up the pen and writes.
~ William Makepeace Thackeray

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A splurge

Sunday, February 14, 2010 at 9:11 am (Writing by Ear)
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I’ve been dieting. Valentine’s Day marks Day 29 of vigilance, and I am seeing results, although not as quickly as I’d like. (I’d like to wake up tomorrow and be 10 lbs. thinner.) But I didn’t want to let the day for hearts and chocolate and appreciation for my sweetie pass without some treat. (And yes, I wanted it for me, too!)

I’ve been avoiding wheat, so a flourless cake came to mind. Heavy on chocolate and also light on dairy — another item on my avoidance list. I chose this one from many recipes online — we both like spice, and this one had less butter (though more chocolate and sugar) than the other recipe I was considering. I tweaked it a bit — used different kinds of chocolate, rather than only the semisweet called for, used one-third less sugar (next time I’ll try stevia), and added a teaspoon of instant coffee, a trick I learned from Ina Garten (of Barefoot Contessa fame), who swears it makes any chocolate recipe taste better.

The cake is a winner — chocolaty heaven, even though I left it in the oven too long. I looked at it with 4 minutes to go and the top hadn’t cracked at all, but when I checked again (I can’t hear the oven timer from upstairs), it looked like this.

Something trying to hatch?

Fortunately, nothing a few raspberries couldn’t fix — not called for in this particular recipe, but a nice complement. The final texture is a bit dry; when I make it again, I’ll bake it less. But neither of us is complaining too much.

A Valentine’s Day splurge. Compliments of the chef du maison. For my sweetie and me.

All I really need is love, but a little chocolate now and then doesn’t hurt!
~ Lucy (courtesy of Charles Schulz)

Mexican Flourless Chocolate Cake

  • 10 oz. chocolate, roughly chopped (I used a mix of semisweet, dark, and even 2 or 3 ounces of unsweetened baking chocolate)
  • 7 TBS unsalted butter, cut into pieces
  • 5 large eggs, at room temperature
  • 2/3 cup sugar
  • 1/2 tsp. cinnamon
  • 3/4 tsp. chili powder (recipe called for chipotle chili powder, I only had regular)
  • 1 tsp. instant coffee
  • Dash of cayenne pepper
  • Pinch of salt
  • Raspberries to top (optional — I used frozen, thawed a bit)
  1. Preheat oven to 350°F. Line the bottom of a 9-1/2″ springform pan with a circle of parchment paper. Grease the sides and the parchment with butter or non-stick cooking spray.
  2. Melt the chocolate and butter together over a double boiler or in the microwave, stirring occasionally until smooth.
  3. Whisk together the eggs and the sugar in a large bowl. Slowly, a bit at a time, whisk in the (cooled) melted chocolate. (Mine looked very grainy at first — like I hadn’t dissolved the chocolate or sugar enough, but it smoothed out).
  4. Add the spices, and adjust to taste, if needed.
  5. Pour the batter into the pan and bake for 22-25 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Cool completely on a wire rack. Top with raspberries, if desired.

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