Bread and be-read

Watching the pleasure my partner took recently in baking a perfect loaf of sour-dough bread reminded me of the first day I signed a contract with a publisher for my work – and no, I don’t mean I’m also crusty and sour! The amount of effort she had put into mastering an age-old, but difficult skill was a salient reminder that we should never forget the indulgent pleasure of creating something from nothing (well, ok, in that instance, from flour, water and salt; in mine, a keyboard and some imagination). Her obvious joy when taking the loaf in the picture that accompanies this blog out of the oven, matched that moment when I opened the parcel containing the initial copy of my debut novel.  

               There were so many parallels. Patience for a start. The first couple of attempts weren’t quite right – still tasty, but not the finished product. That was a little bit like the initial rejection of the manuscript by publishers. You need to be sure to tell yourself: “I know you can do this!” Then step back, look at what might not have been done one hundred percent correctly, and go again. Blaming the oven isn’t going to make things right!

               The initial mixture (aka starter) is fed every day – it is a living thing. That’s your imagination. You take some of it; add flour, salt and water – that’s the spark!

               As we know, jotting notes in myriad books lying around your home is important in writing. In the bread process, that’s the regular stretching and folding of the dough, which builds the gluten strands.

               The bulk fermentation of the dough is also known as allowing it to prove. That’s the equivalent of those days when you walk away from what you’ve written, perhaps thinking it’s a load of crap! You return another day, go over it with an objective reader’s eye, and turn it into what it was meant to be – you shape the loaf.  

               After all the effort, it’s down to the baking and the eating. There’s any number of possible analogies. Let’s call baking the editorial work and publication. The eating? – well, just like that moment I mentioned above, when you hold a first copy of your book, nothing beats cutting off a piece of the crust of freshly-baked sourdough. Then you serve it to others to try. Some may love it; some may not. In the latter case, never forget how much you have put into it; above all, the love. In the case of the former, enjoy the look on their faces.

               And that’s that. Start again – or starter.