The following Sunday post is part of what we would love to turn into an ongoing series here at the blog, in which writers conversationally share about the ways they write. If reading this post gets your wheels turning about your own stories, let us know. Submissions are being accepted at WritingSeries [at] FoodLovesWriting [dot] com.
From time to time, people email me to ask for advice from a writer. Read more…
I heard about the marathon bombings on Twitter. I hear about most everything on Twitter. I had been cleaning the house, vacuuming under chairs, tidying up stacks of papers, when I checked in at the computer. Then, there I was, along with much of America, sitting, glued to the screen, Googling for more information, clicking over to the Facebook page of a running friend who’d flown out with her family for the event (and later rejoicing that she was okay). I hate hearing about tragedies like bombings almost as much as I find I can’t pull myself away from the stories once they come in. Who would do this? Why? Who was hurt? And then: Oh, God. A child died. Another lost a limb. And in Boston.
For a person who is regularly bemoaning the complexities of adult life, a three-day juice fast provides a wonderful simplicity. When you remove the daily tasks of buying, storing, preparing, eating and cleaning up after meals, you find yourself with this new and unusual void of time—and in it, a surprising clarity about the rest of life. In those borrowed hours, while you toss a football in the park, while you paint for hours at the table, while you read novels in bed to your heart’s content, all when you normally would have been cooking or eating, you realize something about food you’d never before seen. Because food, in all its forms and flavors, is such a constant, consuming, captivating part of life, even the not eating of it carries weight and significance. Read more…
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