I’m an awesome cook. Gourmet, even.
In fact I once catered a wedding for 150 guests. It was a union of a southern belle with Pennsylvania roots to the love of her life, a handsome gentleman from Cameroon. The exotic menu included goat, plantains and mangos… personal requests of the bride and groom.
It surprisingly went off without a hitch. The happy couple is still happily hitched ten years later… and neither I nor my mother will ever forget deboning a goat the midnight before the wedding. It was, well, scarring. *lol*
The point to all this rambling is that I enjoy cooking.
The fact that I detest eating is a fact I’ve learned to ignore, mostly. (Chloe Stowe Mental Problem #173)
I cook for others, and when others aren’t around I cook things that can be frozen and enjoyed when company does come a-calling.
This year, I’ve been incredibly remiss in practicing my kitchen magic.
That has now come to an end.
Today, when I should have been preparing to start my 750 word-a-day two-month binge tomorrow, I’ve been baking chocolate cakes. Decadent little achievements I’m quite proud of.
Later this evening, I will be preparing Rigatoni with Sausage, Parmesan and Portobello Mushrooms…
Why am I telling you all this?
Because if you’re like me, obsessively honed in on writing, you sometimes forget to sharpen the other talents that have been lying around dusty in your repertoire.
Writing is not a case of either / or.
In fact, it is a career which embraces all fields of creativity and study. It thrives on such outlandish talents like deboning goats.
I forget that sometimes.
I hope you don’t.