Cookin' (Drudgery vs. Finding Joy)

I’m absolutely convinced that the only people on earth who truly enjoy cooking are those who have never done it day in and day out, who have never had to shop and meal plan and take into consideration the likes and dislikes and allergies and aversions of a large group of people. Even in my own family, a relatively small four-person nightly gathering, one doesn’t like mustard. Or sour things. Two don’t like cheese. A different two-some are a struggle to get vegetables into. Another doesn’t really like meat.

I’ve joked leading up to this week that I would be absolutely fine with pb&j for Thanksgiving—now that, I’ve said, would be a true holiday for me.

If only cooking made me this happy…

I’m a little convinced the large group think can really suck the joy out of writing, too. Trying to take into account the tastes of everyone who might come into contact with your book—especially after you’ve had a book or two release, and have had to deal with the whiplash of book reviews. At that point in your career, you know that what one reader thinks is brilliant makes another toss the book in the trash and declare, “DNF! Unreadable!”

Revision is usually my happy place. Usually. It’s where I’m seeing a book really come to life. But in a case like my current mystery, it can also be tough, because it’s been read and commented on by a few agents. And even though I did see a consensus in their comments, there was a bit of variation—and as I try to put down a few ideas for first lines and starting points, I find myself thinking that Agent A will like one tactic, but it goes against some of what Agent B thought.

Which begins to feel like the whole cheese-and-mustard thing when planning for dinner.

So how do you recover the joy?