Writing and learning to bake bread

Learning to do something new can be scary.

A few years back I thought it’d be fun to write stories. I’d been producing assignments and reports for longer than I cared to mention. How hard could it be to transition from cold hard facts to narrative?

The answer, I discovered, was VERY.

Starting out, I fell into the usual trap for novices of using the most sophisticated and obscure words in the dictionary. Plus lots of lovely adjectives and adverbs to describe in minute detail the mental images I wanted to present.

Boring, boring, boring.

A few how-to-write courses and plenty of critical reading later, I’ve learnt to make sentences flow without cumbersome words to make your eye stumble. I’m still not entirely comfortable in my new writer’s skin, but I know how I want to write and I’ll keep on practising until I get there.

What does this have to do with learning to bake bread?

Plenty. Of all the foods on this wonderful earth, bread has to be my favourite. Even ahead of chocolate, smooth and seductive as it might be. Not only do I love the flavour of bread, but also the curve of the crust, the texture of hand-made loaves, the aroma when it’s fresh out of the oven. Eating bread is easy, making it is not.

My last attempt, around ten years ago, could have been used to replace pavers in my back yard. In a flash of insight, I realised the ability to make bread was a gift I didn’t have. So I gave up.

Last year my nephew came to stay. Every few days he’d make bread or pizza dough from scratch. It looked easy and what came out of the oven was to die for. I watched how he went about it. He used fresh yeast, which he mixed with tepid water and sugar in exactly the right proportions until it fizzed. He added the yeast mixture and a slurp of olive oil to the flour to make the dough. I noted how long he kneaded it and how long he let it rest.

Flying solo I’ve made a dozen loaves now without disaster and I’m starting to experiment. Today I made a German grain loaf. It’s delicious, if I might say so myself.

So what held me back?

Fear. Fear of failure. And fear of asking for help.

It reminded me of how far I’ve come with my practice of writing since those first stumbling steps. Learning is the most awkward, frustrating, exhilarating thing you can do.

The day you stop is the day you die. That’s my philosophy anyway.

Advertisements

About Debbie Terranova

Debbie Terranova is an Australian author of contemporary and historical fiction. 'The Scarlet Key' published in 2016 is the second Seth VerBeek mystery. The crime-busting reporter is back with a new cast of unforgettable characters and a new puzzle to solve. It's about live, love, death, and tattoos, with a touch of the mystical. 'Baby Farm', her debut novel, is a cozy crime mystery about forced adoptions of the 1970s, and a surrogacy and baby trafficking racket. It is the first of the Seth VerBeek series. Debbie Terranova is a prizewinning author of short stories: 'Mowbray Brothers' about growing up in East Brisbane in the 1920s; and 'Mischief' about reinventing yourself and in the process falling in love ... with an adorable but mischievous cat.
This entry was posted in On Writing and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s