I’m taking a page from Katie at Thyme to Cook and wrapping up a few odds and ends in one post. We’ll just see if I’m as adept as she is at stitching them all together.
A couple of weeks ago, just before being whacked by the flu, the lovely Jo tagged me for a writing meme. The question . . . What are three characteristics of good writing? I’ve been thinking about that. And batting it about with Catherine, the editor who’s been helping me on my novel and who was here with her family for Thanksgiving. While Jo is a poet (and a truly inspired one . . . do yourself a favor and read a few of her works), I am merely a writer. She’s the artist, I’m the tradeswoman. Which is making it hard for me to tease apart what makes good writ-ing from what makes a good writ-er. So forgive me if a bit of the latter slips in to these answers. Here goes:
- Writing should be curious. When a writer is curious and open to the world, they see things with a sense of wonder that imbues their writing with a certain spark. Open up Hot, Sour, Salty, Sweet, by Jeffrey Alford and Naomi Duguid, and you’ll see what I mean. This is a couple who has traveled the world. Who has published several award-winning cookbooks. Who are talented cooks, writers and photographers (not to mention parents). And yet there’s a humbleness to their writing that speaks volumes about how they hold the world. There’s a reverence in the way they describe the Akha people of Laos and China. A sense of awe as they tell you about their discovery of khai, river weed. There is no, “if you haven’t been to Laos and had river weed then you just don’t know what you’re missing,” there. There’s just “hey, we had this amazing experience with the Laotian people and they shared their food and their world with us. Let me tell you about it.”
I remember when I was first starting out, as a travel writer, what a rush it was to be in a place with my “writer” hat on (in all honesty, the rush hasn’t diminished). That hat gave me permission to stop and take notes if the light fell a certain way on eggplant at a market, to ask about anything that caught my interest—from blending whiskies, to obscure salsas, to how to make fresh pasta. I wasn’t embarrassed to be moved by something mundane and I wasn’t ashamed to admit my ignorance, and I think that is a large part of what makes me the writer I am.
- Writing should be lean. In the magazine world, I’m forced to fit my stories into a certain word-count and that has taught me to prioritize thoughts and made me a stickler for finding the one word that can convey the force of a whole sentence (I slip a bit on this with blogging, I’ll admit). Novels are longer than articles, obviously, but I’ve found the same principle to hold true. I remember being driven to madness in business school by the authors of one of my textbooks who used the phrase “in other words” over and over and over again. To my mind, if you have to rephrase what you just told me to clarify what you meant, then take the time to go back and edit yourself.
- Writing should transport you. I don’t care if it’s a tagline, a textbook, a tome or a poem, I believe good writing should make you forget—if only for a moment—where you are and transport you to a totally “other” place. This is something Jo does supremely well. Every time I read a poem of hers, I am so transported to where she’s taken me that all the attendant emotions are right beside me on the journey.
One of the most rewarding things I’ve found about writing is that it’s a never-ending learning curve. I’d been writing non-fiction articles for almost a decade when I began working on my novel. Early on I realized that writing full-length fiction was nothing like anything I’d ever done. I was a total beginner again. So I studied and learned and practiced (and am still studying and learning and practicing). About how to flesh out characters and let them tell their story while keeping them tethered to a narrative arc. About the push and pull of narrative tension, and how the storyline and psyche and struggles of the characters are all intertwined.
Through each phase of learning, I’ve been blessed with a “teacher” who has appeared at the precise moment I became ready (the proverb has proven almost freakishly true). The first was Catherine, whom I mentioned earlier. I went to her, a gifted writer in her own right and a graduate of the esteemed Iowa Writers Workshop, gave her the first half of my novel and asked, point blank, “is there any promise in this at all or should I just toss it now?” She gave me honest feedback (some of which was, “yes, there’s promise, keep going”) and the lessons I needed to take the book to the next level. Then came Amy, an old high school friend. We reconnected a couple of years ago and have so much in common in our present lives that we rarely find time to reminisce. She, for instance, is also a journalist working on a novel. We teamed up last year and pushed each other relentlessly, committing to tough deadlines and editing each other’s work once a week. By year’s end, with Amy by my side, I had finally reached “The End.” Now, although the book is still far from publication, I’m in the last polishing phase with Julie—another talented editor—for an agency I soon hope to call home.
But, you ask, what about the Lentil Goop? (See, I dropped a stitch. I’m not as good at this as Katie) When Amy came out here for an intensive week of novel work, she made a gargantuan pot of the best lentils I’d ever tasted. Recently, I hounded her for the recipe and followed suit, freezing a few batches for the future. Now, as I sniffle and sneeze over the keyboard (yes, I am sick . . . again), it is Amy’s Lentil Goop, as my husband affectionately dubbed it, that I crave.
And so, my friends, I leave the recipe to you in hopes of bringing comfort (and good health!) to your day.
{ Amy’s Lentil Goop }
3 tablespoons olive oil
2 onions, chopped
5 cloves garlic, minced
4 celery stalks, chopped
3 carrots, chopped
2 jalapeno peppers, minced
1 bay leaf
1 tablespoon oregano
1 pound spicy Italian sausage (turkey is fine)
Salt and pepper
1 cup dry white wine
5 cups chicken broth
2 tablespoons miso paste (either white, brown or red)
1 28-oz can of ground, peeled tomatoes
3 cups brown lentils
¼ cup each chopped parsley and cilantro
In a large, heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven, heat oil over medium heat and sauté onions and garlic for 3-4 minutes, until soft. Add celery, carrot, jalapeños, bay leaf, oregano, sausage and a pinch of salt and pepper. Stir well and continue cooking for 5 minutes, breaking up the sausage as you go, until just beginning to brown.
Increase heat, add wine and bring to a boil, scraping any bits from the bottom of the pot. Cook for 2-3 minutes, until wine is nearly evaporated. Add broth, miso paste and tomatoes and bring to a boil. Add lentils and reduce heat to medium. Return to a boil, then adjust heat lower to maintain a lively simmer. Simmer uncovered for two hours, stirring occasionally, adding more broth or water if needed. Once lentils are soft, stir in parsley and cilantro and serve.
PS — I haven’t participated in Weekend Herb Blogging for a while, so I thought I’d throw this entry into the hat . . . lentils are a legume after all :-). Thanks to Kalyn! And to Simona from Briciole for hosting!
19 Comments
The Lentil Goop sounds perfect for recovery…or anytime!
I very much enjoyed your words on words…sometimes they’re there…sometimes not
(Now, if I could only type)
*standing up and applauding for your sage words on writing*
That lentil goop would definitely make me feel better! In fact, I’d make a batch of it up tomorrow if I had any hope of finding sausage within a thousand miles of here… *sigh*
What a delicious recipe. Lentils for me are inextricably associated with New Year’s Eve, when we eat them for good luck: the lentils are a metaphor for money. Then the is the comforting aspect of a steaming pot of lentils, and the result is that one has to love them.
And thanks for the words on writing: food for thought.
Quite an interesting reflection on writing that you share with us. Lovely.
Also, thanks so much for your sweet note, and thinking about my blog for the awards! I feel honored.
Lia - Your words on writing just make me feel like… writing ! I love the idea of having a “writer’s hat” on. I don’t know why I can’t seem to give myself the right to wear it… I also love the thought of the right “teachers” appearing for you on your wirting journey. It’s so interesting to follow your writing career - I can’t wait to read your novel - are you getting closer to an official publication date ?
Gilbert’s restaurant opened yesterday and I’m really proud of him… and the whole team that has been working hard to make it happen. Pics to come later.
I love lentils and hope that nice Goop recipe helps you fight those ever coming germs. “Bon rétablissement” to you !
I enjoyed your thoughts about writing (and the recipe looks great, too!).
One of my reasons for setting up my food blog (aside from the obvious sharing recipes) was that after I finished school, I never really had to write very much at all. I felt guilty–why did I bother with all of this education so I can just let it all deteriorate and slip away? So now I write regularly. Whether or not its any good is another story, but its fun and keeps me sharp in a more well-rounded way. Like you said, this is definitely an ongoing learning experience, and I’m glad to have other blogs out there (like Katie’s!) to keep me thinking about these sorts of things.
Lia,
Thank you for this post - it was truly pleasurable to read, and so true! All of us amateur writers can learn so much from reading your blog - you are an inspiration.
The Lentil Goop sounds really good. I like the jalapenos, Italian sausage and the miso is a really nice addition. I need to start using lentils more often.
Katie & Robin . . . I’m happy to report the Lentil Goop has ushered in recovery at last. Robin–any chance of chicken or turkey sausage? And thanks for your words of praise on my words on words. Of course, as soon as I posted this I thought, “Oh Lord, have I just condemned myself?”
Simona . . . I love the idea of lentils being tied with both prosperity and comfort. I’ll have to figure out how to tie them in with our New Year’s feast this year!
Bea . . . My pleasure on all accounts!
Anne-Liesse . . . Congrats to Gilbert! I can’t wait to hear more details. You know, the first time I realized the power of my “writer’s hat” was at Le Cagnard in Haut de Cagnes in a little room where, reportedly, Simone de Bouvoir had once stayed and written. I was looking out the window over the rooftops, journaling, and it hit me how different I was seeing Haut de Cagnes, and all of the Mediterranean, as a writer than when I was a student or visitor. So your country was the first of my inspirations :-).
Mike . . . I, for one, am glad your desire to keep your writing sharp turned into a blog. That way we all benefit. Like me, for instance, and the delicious garlic mashers that graced graced our table last night ;-).
Foodette . . . Thank you! Saying my words inspire you is the best compliment you could give.
Kevin . . . It’s so true, the jalapenos add a nice zing that I wouldn’t have thought of myself. The miso, though, was my own addition. I often add it to soups or braises for a little extra richness and complexity and a healthy boost of soy.
See I knew you’d nail this! You did a lovely job and came up with some great answers…..curious, transporting, lean. Perfect. Thanks for playing!!! And the lentils, yum. I can’t wait to read the novel!
Hi Lia, I tried to email you but I get an error message.
Why haven’t I tripped upon you blog earlier? You’ve got some good food, the blog is informative and I wish to thank you for adding my blog to your links. I have returned the gesture as well!
Cheers,
Peter
Jo . . . Thank you! I had a great time. Thanks for thinking of me.
Peter (aka ‘Lia’) . . . Others have said they’ve gotten errors too. Let me check into it. In any case, though, I’m glad you found Swirling Notions! I’ve so enjoyed being transported to Greece through your blog (even though I know you’re in Canada). Thank you for the return gesture!
This took me a long time to read because the question of what makes good writing is so interesting. I’m glad you put curiousity first, because if a writer doesn’t convey curiosity in their work, it’s nearly impossible for the reader to remain interested in the story being told (which is one of the things I would add — good writing, no matter the genre, should tell a story). Excellent, thought-provoking piece — and the lentil goop loods good too.
Laurie . . . I couldn’t agree more with your story comment. There’s a great book called “A Story is a Promise” that I’ve found really helpful in writing my novel. It does a great job explaining why we as humans are so drawn to stories, and why there’s an inherent desire to have the story resolved. Thanks for coming by!
I think writing is easy, it’s writing well that’s hard. That may be true of cooking too. Love lentils so this gets a thumbs up from me.
I would love that goop. I’m nutty about lentil, they’re so comforting and satisfying.
With flavors all over the map, this soup sounds grand! An ideal melting pot to warm the bones.
Kalyn . . . Very good point on both writing and cooking!
Sher . . . It’s good, good goop, I tell you. I’d always been intimidated by lentils (funny how a couple of misfires can cloud your whole take on a legume) until this dish. Enjoy!
Susan . . . So true, it’s got a lot of flavor to it. Not so much to look at, but very impressive once it hits the tastebuds ;-).