(I wrote this several years ago, but find the truth still applies…at least for me.)
Recently, a friend of mine warned me not to sit on my gift. Just prior to that, she had asked me if I had written anything lately. I hadn’t. I haven’t felt inspired to write. It was like I had nothing to say.
Last week I was going through emails and I came across one that was advertising next year’s Writers’ Market. I remembered back to January of this year. I had begged Nelson for an updated copy. I told him that if he would buy it for me I would send out at least ten pieces to publishers. He did and I didn’t.
In the past few months, I have begun to enjoy cooking. Not long ago, Nelson posited that I was cooking to avoid writing. Seemed ridiculous to me. He had cooked most of our married life—mostly because he was very good at it, but also because I worked non-stop. Now, Nelson is working long days and it just makes sense for me to pick up that responsibility. I dove into the task by hunting for potential recipes and then began experimenting with combinations that I knew we liked. I went quickly from having three recipes that my family enjoyed to a couple dozen. It felt good.
This morning as I was washing the pot that I had made a really good soup in yesterday, I had an epiphany. It was about cooking and writing. When Nelson and I got married I was afraid to cook. I was such a novice that my mother-in-law bought me an illustrated cookbook. My repertoire included macaroni made in a hot pot and peanut butter sandwiches. To avoid embarrassment, I acquiesced to Nelson’s expertise and over the years discovered three recipes that I did well and stuck with those. I was afraid to do any more than that because if I couldn’t do it perfectly I wouldn’t do it all.
What I realized as I stood at my sink scrubbing dishes was that Nelson was right in part. I needed to cook so that I could write. I hadn’t contacted any publishers with my writing because, though I knew I could write, I didn’t consider myself a writer. Throwing myself into my cooking showed me that. For years I had avoided cooking because I didn’t see myself as a cook and therefore I couldn’t. It wasn’t enough to say that I could cook, I had to be the best cook. I knew I was far from that so I didn’t, and wouldn’t cook. This was reinforced by the ridicule I took when I tried to cook. I was the brunt of many a family joke. Why should I continue to prove them right and give them something new to laugh at?
My recent successes at cooking have forced me to rethink this. I may not be a “James Beard Chef”, but I can cook. Nelson has really enjoyed my newly found and developing love for being creative in the kitchen. He raves about the meals and shows them off at work. I’m not going to be Top Chef anywhere, not even in my kitchen. That honor will always be Nelson’s. But it’s not going to keep me from cooking and experimenting.
I still have a few months left in this year. I will probably never win an award for my writing, but why should that keep me from developing my craft and sharing my thoughts? The obvious answer is that it shouldn’t—and based on what I learned from cooking recently: it won’t!
Oh, and while I’m at it, I realized something else about my writing that makes it more imperative that I push past my reluctance to face rejection. Recently while I was preparing for a retreat I led on spirituality and personality, I read that most devotionals are written by “N” types (think MBTI). I mulled that over for a while and realized that is one of the reasons I feel so compelled to create a devotional series, one that is more appealing and appropriate for “S” types. Not everyone relates to the intuitive style and needs to engage their senses more completely to engage them spiritually. Maybe I’ve found my niche!
Pot of Manna 