I started drafting this post between Christmas and New Years, in the aftermath of successive food comas, lazy summer laughter and bloated bellies.
I’m going to revive this thing (again) I told myself, spurred with the giddiness of well-intentions, the yearning for a fresh start and the dumb energy that comes with numerous g+ts, scoffing through a mountain of seafood and having butter melted in every dish from starter to dessert.
Of course, that enthusiasm rapidly evaporated after I was violently lurched back into my everyday routine.
But now, a quarter of the way through the year, my lazy summer intentions have met the curdling call to action.
My gentle resolution for 2023, is to share more (and of course, the nebulous goal of “write more”).
So here’s to… more.
More about my writing process.
More about what I’d like to write.
As an avid-list maker and someone who is curious about other people’s writing process, I’m going to start with an author’s note on some of my favourite pieces I wrote last year.
A Very Fancy Pasta Pit Stop
Winner of the SBS Food x Diversity in Food Media Australia Writing Competition
What’s the inspiration behind this piece?
A journal entry I wrote after a spontaneous dinner with Mum. We were at one of those inner-city places that we don’t typically frequent together - yet it was one I’d frequent with friends without question.
That disconnect (while watching mum enjoy the food) spun out into questions on who gets to dine where, the barriers to ‘fine dining’ and the connections we make through food.
How long did it take to write?
Journal entry (probably ~ 10 mins on the couch) on my phone.
That entry was the first draft of the piece, with prompt inserts for details. 2 hours on the next draft, and 3.5 hours editing (culling down the word limit - awakening those dormant university assignment skills like a champ).
Favourite line?
Perhaps her familiarity meant that it never occurred to me that she considered our dinner a detour from her usual path. For me, eating out became ubiquitous, starting from all-you-can-eat wings at the university bar, morphing into Friday night drinks at the office and ending as a necessary time-saver…
This realisation struck me during our meal. Framed the rest of the piece.
What would I change?
The title.
I think I tossed up between “dining detours” and something else before I stress-smashed “enter” to submit my entry.
Other notes:
At first, I hastily swiped away the email notification that announced that I’d won the SBS Diversity in Food Media Competition cause I was in-between work meetings!
After the meeting, I ran to the stairwell - notes, laptop and pen stuffed under my arm - hid there and re-read the email a dozen times.
I also whisper-swore (in joy) a lot.
When the news was out, I was overjoyed to hear about how the piece connected with so many people - people who said it reminded me of their parents, people who said they felt a similar awkwardness in restaurant at times, and those who shared my love of cendol.
I’m sure that people on my commute home were wondering why I had a huge grin on my face.
Thank you.
Grieving with Kueh
read here and order NVOF Vol 2 here
What’s the inspiration behind this piece?
Theme was “past present and future”.
I’d been pondering what knowledge we lose with each generation that passes. With my inability to communicate with elder generations of my family in their native dialect, how was I to carry traditions forward?
And if these ‘traditions’ were to evolve with my generation, how would I want them to evolve?
It all came to a head when my grandfather unexpectedly passed away.
Process/ How long did it take to write?
Mostly handwritten until the final versions. Tweaks etc on the computer.
Honestly I can’t remember how long it took to write. A lot of it was caught up in the chaos that comes with big family shifts. Looking back, writing was probably a coping mechanism.
Favourite line?
We ate our grief.
Punchy and direct. Something I’m trying to work on!
What would I change?
I’d tighten this line:
Generations of knowledge were passed down with each turn of the lazy Susan. Lessons that aren’t written in any cookbook – from the quickest way to peel a prawn, to choosing the piece of lobster that has the best meat-to-shell ratio.
And avoid lazy turns of phrases such as:
It doesn’t matter that popo isn’t fluent in English. Good food and the offering of a plate are dialects we’re all fluent in. It makes the grief easier to swallow.
Other notes
Unsurprisingly, I wrote this during a very turbulent time.
I want to admit that.
I want to be open about that.
The writing process isn’t instagram cozy-core-esque, lofi-beats in the background or cups of warm tea next to pastel coloured notebooks.
I want to recognise that things were shit.
After I submitted my piece to NVOF, Jess Ho’s incredible memoir Raised by Wolves was released. It opened with a lazy susan piece - which made me laugh, punch the air and do the “i have to close the book at yell” pause.
Aside from that, I immediately felt mortified. I had just written a lazy susan scene in my submissions to NVOF. It was nowhere as thrilling as Ho’s opening chapter. How embarrassing that I tried - how unintentionally unoriginal of me.
Since then, I’ve taken multiple interviews from Taste Podcast to heart - who “owns” or “claims” these experiences?
I know we’re allowed to have more than one lazy susan story.
And maybe, with more stories out there, I’ll get to someone else to reflect on, and share their lazy susan story… culminating into an anthropology of lazy susan stories (ha ha ha).
Honestly I feel a little awkward and self conscious sharing this post.
I’m from the livejournal, blogger gen (iykyk), which the internet has left behind in favour of sleek newsletters, curated instagram captions and quick-fire reels.
This post feels unsophisticated.
But my hope is that by sharing more of my writing, I can grow some confidence in my work, together with sharing the incredible work of other writers, artists, creatives - people - who have me scrolling way past an advisable bedtime.
Wish it was simple as Brené Brown-ing my way into vulnerability.
I’m incredibly thankful for the support that I’ve received from all corners- online, the food writing media, the WA crew and of course those who support me offline. And I still am overwhelmed at the response that my pieces receive.
So to put it bluntly: I’m going to learn how to take a compliment this year.
And be consistent.
(or consistent in my inconsistency!)
It's extremely comforting to read that other writers have favourite lines and other lines that baffle them. Thanks for sharing
Here for it, Ange.