way more than cheesesteak

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Saturday, May 28, 2011 @ 7:43 AM

starting small - not your average EWR post

Last weekend I attended Eat Write Retreat in D.C. I was invited via Twitter and bought the ticket on a whim as a graduation present to myself. I wanted to do something out of the ordinary with the hopes that being around serious bloggers would help me figure out if I wanted to pursue 'something' in food--Should I bake? Should I write about restaurants? Did I want to take my blog in a new direction? Does my writing suck? Should I bother blogging at all?

My poor brain was a whizzing tornado of anxiety. Thoughts were dashing around my head. I had doubts about my ability, about how professional my blog looked and whether I would be taken seriously at all, being that my blog has few followers and a small readership. After all, didn't I start this blog for fun? I wanted to stop spamming my facebook newsfeed with pictures of the delicious photos I would take of practically everything I baked and whatever I ate at restaurants. How would it stand up against serious bloggers?

Do me a favor. Read that last question again. [I'll wait.]

That, dear readers, was my problem. At the start of the conference, I was so intimidated by everyone because they had beautiful DSLR cameras with huge lenses and business cards with tiny pictures of vegetables and appetizing dishes. I showed up empty handed [didn't even bring a notebook!] except for my slightly-scratched point & shoot which always seems to have flour on it. Frankly, I didn't think I belonged. I wasn't sure if I should take my swag bag and hop on the Megabus back to PA. Sure, I had paid the fee, but had I paid my dues in the blogging world?

Instead of being my normal, bubbly, slightly-awkward extraverted self who sees no issue with talking to strangers, I was much more demure and reserved than I had ever been in such a setting. Instead, I did a lot of observing and even more listening. I heard a lot of people discussing terms I was unfamiliar with--about gluten-free eating, for example--and mention bloggers and foodies whose names were completely lost on me. During the first day, this was all pretty overwhelming. I thought maybe I had made a mistake by coming. Then, at lunch on the second day, something amazing happened.

I got a reality check via Twitter. My friend Dave tweeted to make sure I was taking a ton of pictures, like I always do, and at that moment I realized how much I had been holding back. I was so intimidated that I had barely taken any photos. I had maybe a shot or two of everything I ate, which was completely unlike me. I replied that I had been a bit intimidated and he immediately followed up with a reminder that I had nothing to worry about. He reminded me that I was doing something I loved and that I had never let these kinds of things bother me before, so I shouldn't start now. And, with that, a simple tweet changed my whole perspective of the conference.

I started to relax and make a bigger effort to talk to people. I began to truly enjoy myself. I laughed through lunch with a great group of gals. At the CulinAerie workshop, I didn't care if my grapefruit slices were a bit off; I'm a baker, not a cook! I was sitting in a cooking class, something I'd wanted to do since sitting on a stool in my dad's catering kitchen, and I was not going to let doubts ruin my experience.

One of the most important things I realized was what a wonderful, encouraging community I was a part of. [Yes, I belonged.] Other bloggers had questions about how to style food or how to improve their writing, just like I did. People openly shared about their families, their blogs, their jobs and their pets. In fact, at dinner on Saturday night, a bunch of us started pulling out our "baby" pictures on our phones to share our adorable cats and dogs. Most importantly, though, I realized how supportive everyone was of one another. I was happily overwhelmed with insightful suggestions about how to improve my blog or take a good photograph. And, in my moment of greatest doubt, I was going to give up a coveted spot to speak with the Food & Travel editor of The Washington Post, but a fellow blogger refused to let me cross my name off the list. For that, I am so grateful. [Thank you, Wendy!]

I initially wanted to write this post chronicling the contents of my swag bag and describing each plate of food in delicious descriptive detail, but when I got home from the conference, I realized that I had learned more about myself than what had been on the conference schedule. I realized that I am in a unique position in the blogosphere, as many conference attendees have successful blogs and go to improve upon their marketing, photography and writing skills. Essentially, they want to make a good thing better. Me? Well, even though I've had my blog for just about a year, I feel like I'm just starting one. After listening to the speakers and panels and taking in the anecdotes and insight from other bloggers, I feel like I can approach my blog with new eyes.

When I got home from the conference, my brain was reeling with ideas of how I wanted to write more and learn to use my camera properly. Google became my best friend. I sat down and created a plan with a detailed to-do list of all that I needed to fix or learn if I wanted to get serious about blogging and confidently call myself a blogger. I think it's about time I started taking myself seriously, wouldn't you agree?

Labels: blogging conferences, EWR, writing

8 Comments:

It really is all about learning and realizing there is not a huge difference amongst us all. I had similar reservations about the conference.
And don't be fooled by the cameras, I may have a DSLR camera, but it doesn't mean I know what i'm doing with it:P
I was glad to meet you and chat with you during the walk to the market. Can't wait to see what new plans you have in store for your blog!

By Ethan, at May 28, 2011 at 10:33 AM

I am going to second exactly what Ethan said. Esp the dslr camera part, lol. And I took no pictures--if the conference taught me anything it was that I am writer first, and cook/baker second, and eater third and I just don't care that much about photography (alas for my blog--I do keep trying to fake it though). I also took a while to warm up--I had this moment somewhere, I forget at what point, where I suddenly realized I might look standoffish to others whereas in reality I was feeling shy and overwhelmed. I was glad i stayed and am glad you did too!

By Laura, at May 28, 2011 at 10:55 AM

it was really great to meet you at the conference! i think underneath it all we were all feeling just as you described... so glad we all decided to stay and be brave and make friends! i look forward to all that you do here in this space and more...

By Unknown, at May 28, 2011 at 11:56 AM

Thanks for the feedback, everyone! It's so interesting to see all of the different things that we took away from the conference--about ourselves and our blogs! And of course, it's nice to know that other people felt the same way, even if they didn't show it.

Before EWR, I was definitely unsure of what I wanted to do with my blog and if I was making something worth reading. Now I realize that I have a story to tell and it's worth writing about (and photographing!). Overall, it just helped me to get excited about self-expression and finding new ways to convey my love of food to my readers. So, I'll be spending the summer learning a bit about photography and writing because I want to, not because it's required :)

By kelly, at May 28, 2011 at 1:38 PM

I'm glad you stayed too and I wish that I would have gotten to get to talk with you! I also want to see that checklist you created...I guess spreadsheets are all the rage these days (haha)

By Amanda, at May 28, 2011 at 5:34 PM

It was so fun to meet you last weekend! I had much of the same issues as you did going into it. I felt like such a small fish and that no one would want to talk to me, I'm so glad everyone was so open and welcoming!

By Beth @ Kitchen Minions, at May 30, 2011 at 5:06 PM

Kelly, great post! I have often felt the same way...not knowing what I am doing, not "connected" but at the end of the day many of us that blog about food really are hear to support one another and have fun virtually with one another - at the end of the day we are all passionate about food right :) To me you are a wonderful spirit, full of life and excited about what you want to do (on all counts) and where you want to go! It was so wonderful meeting you (and as a perk) being your roomie!

By Colleen (Souffle Bombay), at July 6, 2011 at 5:00 AM

aww thanks, Colleen! You gave me such inspiration as to what is possible with a food blog. Before I met you, I had never met anyone who had written a cookbook before! I can't imagine how you juggle being such a great mom with working and cooking and blogging and all of the things that each of those entails... you have a ton of energy and passion for everything you do and it was truly motivating to see all that you've accomplished and how happy and caring you are as a result! Good things will continue to surround you in life :)

By kelly, at July 7, 2011 at 10:06 PM

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Sunday, May 22, 2011 @ 9:34 PM

And now for something completely different...

Somewhere along the way, I forgot how to write.

This may sound strange coming from someone with two English degrees, but it's the truth. I have no idea how it happened. What I do know is that this weekend I attended a seminar on writing that made me realize that I had lost my voice. Somewhere between SATs and MLA, I forgot what it meant to write with my senses and speak from the soul.

I took creative writing classes in college. I even traveled to Europe for the sole purpose of writing poetry (who was I kidding? I wanted to go to Europe). Being around poets made me think I was a bad writer. What I should have realized was that I was just bad at poetry. Truthfully, I was out of practice. I wrote stories all my life. Growing up, I monologued in front of the bathroom mirror for hours, talking to my imaginary audience as if I were Oprah. From the time I learned to make letters, I spent hours inventing stories and making books for my mom. In middle school, I wrote for fun. I took on personalities in poems, writing about things I had never experienced. I had wit. I was charming. I wrote for my own enjoyment. I was free.

Something happened when I got to high school. I started caring what other people thought of me. I had always been fearlessly myself--never afraid to be the only girl in the second grade who wore a Blossom hat or who showed up on Halloween dressed up as a giant Hershey kiss. Once I hit the 9th grade, I fought every urge to stand out or be carefree, weighing the social consequences of each decision before making any. Most dangerously, I stopped writing for myself. My once-imaginative diary became a chronicle of social interactions, gossip and endless lists of my diet and exercises. I wrote about what everyone else deemed important. I learned what my teachers wanted in an essay and delivered. I made my once-vibrant writing bland by subscribing to the formulaic methods my English teachers used. I knew how to write well even before any teacher had ever required me to use Focus Correction Areas in a paper. I spent too much care re-reading my papers looking to check off requirements when I should have been reading to make sure I could hear myself in my writing.

Fast forward to present. Well, maybe this morning. I sat in front of Joe Yonan of The Washington Post's Food and Travel section talking about losing my voice. I didn't develop laryngitis; I simply realized that none of my blog posts actually sound like me. I've spent the past 11 years [yikes, I feel old!] without any semblance of myself in anything I write. I've forgotten how to even go about writing fiction. When I was writing my capstone for graduate school, I was five pages into my writing before I stopped cringing every time I used the personal "I" in my paper. That moment held much bigger significance than moving beyond what I had been trained not to do stylistically. It symbolized how I had completely taken myself out of everything I had written for over a decade. I was shocked.

Being that this is so recent, I'm still processing it. I can tell you that my immediate thought is: write. write. write. I need to write. I want to hear my own voice in my writing again, even if it's the softest whisper hiding behind introductory paragraphs, clauses and 1" margins.

Labels: writing

5 Comments:

I feel so sad that you have felt stifled and silenced for the past 11 years! Also, lovely post. I have always liked your writing voice and I'm looking forward to it's evolution! Or freedom?

By ckhampton, at May 23, 2011 at 4:22 PM

Thanks, Chels! I was horrified when I realized how long it had been since I wrote things for fun.

By kelly, at May 23, 2011 at 5:23 PM

I hear you. I sat in front of him and spoke and it hit me, "I really need to get my brain together". I need to take another look at my writing and improve it. So lovely to meet you this weekend!

By Kimmy Bingham, at May 23, 2011 at 6:08 PM

I love this post, and I completely feel where you are coming from. Eat, Write, Retreat really spoke to the writer in me, as opposed to the blogger trying to get traffic from anywhere and everywhere. I am looking forward to lots of reflection on the event. I had so much fun meeting you and having dinner on Friday. Keep in touch!

By Meghan@travelwinedine, at May 24, 2011 at 5:55 AM

I know how you feel (minus the english degrees) it's so easy to get wrapped up in someone else's style (for me it's my bosses, I chameleon their style and forget I have my own) It's hard for me to switch from that voice to figure out what mine is. I guess that's what the blog will help me with. though, It was so great to meet you this weekend and I look forward to following your journey to find your voice again!

By Beth @ Kitchen Minions, at May 27, 2011 at 7:36 PM