This post is only indirectly related to food but concerns the other thing that's really important to me, and that's writing.
Flashback to October of 2002: I had spent the previous year writing for the student newspaper and loving it. I reported and reviewed everything, from restaurants to concerts to books to film to theater. Public speaking was not my forte, and I had found the newspaper to be the one forum where I could fully express myself. Then I became arts editorial assistant, and became sucked into all those responsibilities that had little to do with actual writing, like adjusting column inches, formatting photo captions, being a slave to Quark, and repeatedly chasing other writers to turn in their stories on time. Life in the news office took up many hours. Add in classes, a part-time job, dance practice, I had less and less time for actual writing. The office became my second home. I was getting no sleep and hadn't seen some of my suitemates in weeks. All the while, the arts editor whom I would be replacing rubbed her hands with glee, counting down the minutes until her release from indentured servitude. Finally, after weeks of late late production nights and little sleep, on the eve before I became arts editor, I quit. Not just editorial duties, not just the newspaper, but writing as well.
Flashback to January of 2004: My friend Sushrut was idling in my room, strumming on the guitar, while I looked for a fun easy class to take in my last semester of senior year.
Sush: Hey, take the short fiction workshop with me.
Me: (thinking it's a dumb idea) That's a dumb idea. I can't do creative writing.
Sush: Why not? You used to write for the paper.
Me: Well, I don't anymore. I'm not cut out to be a writer. (recalling guilt every time I pass the news office)
Sush: Creative writing is different. This class is, anyway. You submit a piece that you've put your heart and soul into and everyone tears it to shreds until every sentence has been criticized to the full extent. (pauses in serene reflection) It's great.
Me: And I want to take the class because...
Sush: Do it. DO IT. It'll change your life.
To make a long story short(er), we both took the class, and I ended up working harder than I had ever worked before. By the end of the second class, I realized he had been right, the whole part about it changing my life. I'm not a big proponent of writing workshops in general, but they do force you to sit down and write, almost every single day. And everyone commenting on your work, no matter how grueling it can be at times, just gives you amazing insight on what works and what doesn't.
A year later, what I learned in that class has stayed with me. Knowing what's problematic in your writing only fuels your drive to improve it, one day at a time. I know now that I want to continue writing for the rest of my life, and I'll find some way of doing it every day, whether it be a short story, freelance article, or web post.
So why today to detour from food? Why today to write about writing?
Sush moved away to Worchester after college for med school, so I don't get to see him much anymore. But he'll always be the person who made me fall in love with writing all over again. Tonight we talked very briefly and I found out he won a writing award for two amazing poems that are so vivid and insightful that they'll make you just sit back and reflect, whether you wanted to or not. They have nothing to do with the website, but the beauty of the language and the love of the subject is something I will keep striving for, however long it takes me.
People are passionate about different things. Cadavers may seem like a strange and trivial topic to some. Food may draw the same reaction from others. But as long as the person is writing with a lot of heart, who are we to judge?



