Let’s talk about pie.
Yes, pie.
The dessert, not the mathematical number.
I have a friend, A, who is a phenomenal pastry chef. I have been able to sample her creations on numerous occasions, but I have never pressed my advantage. Our children were in the same class in first or second grade and that was the first time I heard about A’s cream puffs.
You see, it was A’s child’s birthday and instead of bringing in store-bought cupcakes for the class, A brought (per her child’s request), homemade cream puffs.
My child informed me that they were delicious and could she also have homemade cream puffs brought to school for her birthday?
My child asked me for cream puffs for years. The memory of those delicious cream puffs haunted my poor, underprivileged child saddled with a useless mom who was not even going to attempt homemade cream puffs.
Yet. I became friends with A anyway, even though she showed me up in the cream puff department. And the tartlette department. And the macaron department.
She is a trained and accomplished pastry chef, after all. I accept that I cannot compete in these arenas.
But like I said, I’ve never asked for special favors or samples. I would never presume. Baking is hard work and can be expensive and I respect that this is her job.
Then one day last week, A posted a photo of a new recipe she was developing.
It was a completely new type of pie.
A described it in loving, intricate detail, using elevated vocabulary that only true foodies would appreciate. Panna cotta. Sweet milk. Chocolate ball.
Okay, even I understood that last one.
I get a text soon after from A: Do you want to try this new pie?
Um, yes.
I dropped by A’s house and she had a miniature sized pie waiting for me. It was perfect. Perfect shape, perfect dollop of whipped cream on the top, sprinkled with just the right amount of chocolate garnish. Not a crumb out of place. Not a scorch mark or over-brown spot to be seen.
“I’m trying it out,” A said. “I want to know what you think.”
“It looks perfect,” I said.
“Eh,” she said.
EH?
And right then, I saw it. The tangle of emotions that a creative person gets when they’re trying something new. The excitement, the uncertainty, the passion, the perfectionism.
To me, that miniature pie was perfection. If I had made up the recipe – from scratch, mind you – then created eight sample-sized pies that all looked like they could go straight into a Parisian patisserie’s display case, you would not be hearing “eh” from me.
I would be jumping on top of couches and demanding an excessive amount of praise for creating something amazing from nothing.
For A? It was simply the first draft of a new pie.
Which is something I recognize. My first drafts… well, yes, they’re amazing. But I know they can get better.
I told her then – she was inspiring to me. (And I’m telling her now.)
The fact that she has a new idea – and then uses her skills and talents – to create something that people will gobble down (with pleasure) in five minutes?
It makes my heart ache a little. Humans want to create things. We want to bring smiles to faces. We want to impact days, if not lives.
Whether it’s pies or hand-knitted sweaters from artisanal-dyed yarn or bold paintings or fun stories about falling in love and solving mysteries, so many of us want to share little expressions of ourselves with others. We want them warm, fed, smiling, inspired.
If you’re a creative person, thank you. You make the world a better place.
You know what else makes the world a different place?
A new pie, every month.
That’s right. My friend A has a pie of the month club. Which is where this story goes to a whole new level.
While I was appreciating A’s new, never been created before pie recipe, and seeing the connection between her culinary creativity and my literary efforts, I remembered the Pie of the Month Club.
“Why don’t I do that?” I asked myself.
I really hate when I do that.
But I have spent the last seven months having lots of deep thoughts about life, work and creating. (#pandemic) I’ve asked myself a lot of uncomfortable questions.
If A can create pastry recipes from scratch EVERY. SINGLE. MONTH…
Could I do the same?
No, not pies, obviously. We’ve established that’s not my oeuvre.
Stories.
Could I put myself out there and go a little crazy? Try new things? Update old things? Write boldly, write unapologetically, write whatever it was I wanted to read that day? Add the fiction equivalent of cardamom when people expect cinnamon?
I think I want to try.
Maybe?
When you start writing commercially, you start to let other people’s opinions get inside your head. And it’s time for me to knock some of that out.
There’s a song that I’ve been loving lately that sort of sums this all up – my words and A’s baking.
If it ain't familiar, it's 'cause you ain't had it yet
Even if you don't like it, I bet you won't forget
There's always one or two pushing on the envelope
So I'ma raise a glass to you if you're one of those- Maren Morris
So. Who’s in for Story of the Month club?
If you’re interested in following along with this new development, make sure you’re signed up for my newsletter. I haven’t thought through all the details yet but whatever they end up being, the Inner Circle will definitely be the first ones to know!