Why Writing Is Like Pie
By Tiffany Yates Martin | July 26, 2021 |
I’ve recently become obsessed with pie.
Not eating it, necessarily—I can generally take or leave most pies—but I’ve been dedicating an inordinate amount of time to making pie…more specifically, pie crust.
Partly I blame the Great British Baking Show for my obsession—my husband and I devoured ten delicious seasons night after night for months, and I managed to convince myself while watching these avocational bakers that I, too, could churn out flaky rough puff like a natural-born pâtissier.
But pie crust, as it turns out, despite having basically four simple ingredients, is a lot more difficult than cutaway shots of bakers expertly book-folding fat chunks of grated butter into dough and rolling it out into a perfect flaky crust might suggest.
Here is a partial list of offenses I’ve committed against pie: burned crust, rubbery crust, crust so leathery and tough we had to cut it with brute force and a butcher knife, crust that tore and had to be patched together into a sloppy Frankenpie, crust that slumped down the sides of the pan and massed in an unappetizing lump around the base, crust that puffed up into a giant blister and then popped, crust I somehow baked into a hard brown edges and a soggy raw bottom.
May I remind you: It’s four ingredients.
Luckily I’m not kidding myself I’m a great baker; nor am I trying to become one. I just enjoy it, and I like the challenge of trying to master a new skill and don’t mind taking the time to travel a learning curve. So each time I make a mess of a pie, I cheerfully bin it and start again (or let my husband eat it, as luckily his pie standards appear to be extremely low).
It’s harder to have that same sanguine approach with you’re dealing with something closer to your heart, like your writing.
Some stories come together so smoothly, it’s almost like they write themselves. But most stories are more like my pie crusts—they may take a lot of work before you get it quite right.
The vast majority of manuscripts I work on with publishers go through three separate edit passes with the author—and this is after however many she may have done before turning it in. Sometimes we go beyond three passes. I’ve gone as high as six on some.
It’s common—and oh, so easy—for an author to get frustrated when a story takes that kind of time and work to come together. She may start to doubt herself—her talent, her skill, her worth as a writer. He may start to doubt the story—is it worth telling? Should he just chuck it and start over?
But if a pie crust—with its paltry four ingredients—can take such effort for even experienced cooks to master (and they do, as I comfortingly learned in extensive troubleshooting online searches), why do authors come down on themselves so hard if they sometimes struggle to orchestrate the vast multitude of ingredients that go into creating a successful story?
I think the answer is twofold: Most of us who write do so because years ago we fell in love with reading. And just as bingeing nearly 100 episodes of a baking show finally convinced me that I could do what these bakers so effortlessly seem to do on camera, we somehow convince ourselves that we can whip up a polished story just like that.
But behind every perfectly layered millefeuille in the Baking Show tent, I’m betting there are countless hours each contestant has spent in her own kitchen, tossing many more failures into the bin than I have. By the time they get into the tent, who knows how many versions of each signature bake they’ve created already?
But I’m also judging my own success by the version I’m seeing on television, where, say, four hours of a showstopper challenge have been condensed into fifteen perfectly orchestrated minutes of screen time. I’m comparing my messy, plodding real-time efforts to the slickly edited version crafted by an entire team of creatives.
This won’t come as news to anyone who’s ever laid thoughts down on paper, but writing, my friends—joy that it can be—is hard.
As an author you’re like a puppet master with a thousand strings: a forward-driving plot, high stakes, powerful suspense, taut tension, strong momentum, compelling backstory that doesn’t overwhelm the main story, revealing and consistent point of view, distinctive voice…even just creating a cast of fully fleshed and believable human beings is a monumental undertaking that can take years to master, and is a never-ending learning curve because people are endlessly complicated and faceted. And this is not even the tip of the cliched iceberg of all the many elements of story authors must manage.
Is it any wonder that writers struggle on some stories? The wonder to me, after nearly thirty years working as an editor in this business, is that authors so frequently manage so many of these elements successfully, even in stories that may need more extensive development or work in other areas.
Don’t make the Facebook mistake in your writing: judging something based on the carefully curated product presented for public consumption. The books you love didn’t spring from their authors’ keyboards fully formed, like Athena from the brow of Zeus. I promise you that in nearly every single case they are the result of painstaking writing, rewriting, revising, and untold mental hours of building, tearing down, starting again.
That’s not just part of the process of writing—it is the process.
I wish I could tell you that I have begun to master pies, but I’m still early in my pie journey, committing some really egregious pie crimes. But you know what? My efforts may not be pretty, and they may not be professional…but most of the time they still taste all right.
And if it takes a while to get better at it? That’s okay—that’s the process.
How’s your piecrust, WU? Is getting your WIP just right easier or more difficult than mastering baked goods? Have you committed any pie crimes?
Tiffany Yates Martin has spent nearly thirty years as an editor in the publishing industry, working with major publishers and NYTimes, WaPo, WSJ, and USA Today bestselling, award-winning authors as well as indie and newer writers, and is the founder of FoxPrint Editorial and author of the Amazon bestseller Intuitive Editing: A Creative and Practical Guide to Revising Your Writing. She leads workshops and seminars for conferences and writers’ groups across the country and is a frequent contributor to writers’ sites and publications. Under the pen name Phoebe Fox, she’s the author of six novels.
Great comparison. My grandmother’s pies were the best. Her crust flaky and melt in your mouth delicious. I watched her make crust many times, even bought lard, which is what she used, but none of my crusts have ever tasted or had the texture of hers.
She didn’t write. But I do and I’ve struggled with this MS for years. But I’m determined my characters want to be heard.
So thanks for this post. I’m not giving up.
You’ve made my mouth water about your grandmother’s pie, Alice.
It’s so easy to give up on a balky story, or when the vision in our heads isn’t quite coming together on the page. Glad to hear you’re not losing faith in yours. Thanks for your words.
Delicious insight, Tiffany! Like with making pie crust, there are many ways to enhance the story and many ways to make it flop. And the environment plays a role too. Make pie crust on a humid day and it doesn’t roll out the same, right? So with our mindsets. You keep making pie and we’ll all keep writing stories because when we get it right, how satisfying it is.
Ha, so true about humidity! There are so many factors that create variables in something like baking. I think we forget the same is true for our creativity.
I’m still on my piecrust quest. Glad you’re still in the game with writing. Thanks for the comment, Rose.
I love this analogy! It’s so fitting.
And, yeah, pie crusts are tough. I struggle with them as well.
I didn’t realize how many people do till I started online troubleshooting–even experienced bakers! Makes me feel better–and same with writing. Some creations go more smoothly than others. Thanks for the comment, Lydia.
I just love this, Tiffany!! Having only ever been an on-and-off pie-maker, I know that the perfect crust is an illusive thing, I especially relate to the Frankenpie. The quest for the perfect crust is very much like learning the craft of writing. Not only because of the many ingredients, but the fact that with every story, the mojo changes. I always found that bread and pie crusts required a kind of ‘feeling’ intelligence. Not too much overhanding or under mixing. Temperatures of this or that ingredient also come into play. Even altitude can affect results. I believe attitude can make a difference, too. And thank you for the reminder that the books we see on the shelves and fall in love with are a result of a lot of hard work. A love of stories is what brought me to writing, but I had no idea what went into them back then. Knowing differently now makes them that much more precious. Good luck in your pie journey.
Frankepie is my signature bake! :D I love your comment about “”feeling” intelligence. I do think writing is as much intuition as it is craft (like baking). And so many variables can affect both–what worked once may not work the same way the next time.
Knowing how the sausage is made with stories is enlightening, but to me it never takes away the magic of one that carries you into it. Thanks for these comments, Susan–they resonate with me.
Attitude for sure. Back in the day I always made I pie when I was steaming mad at my husband. The pie was a sort of “I’ll show you who is the best spouse.” They actually turned out better than the ones I made to impress company. Maybe I should take and “I’ll show you,” attitude to the writing.
Ha! Sometimes I actually do talk to something I’m working on–coaxing or cajoling. Can’t hurt to try some attitude! :)
I love everything you’ve said here, especially your remarks about the presentation of our lives on Facebook and the carefully-edited scenes from reality shows. Those snippets are NOT what make life interesting; it is the blood, sweat and tears — the imperfections and redos and breakthroughs — which make each of us unique and interesting. Why do we demand of ourselves the facade of ease and perfection as we make something wonderful? That’s rarely how great work is created.
I wish I knew! I fall into it too, though—over and over. I think the best we can hope for is that we get better and faster about pulling ourselves out of that mind-set. I’ve started speaking kindly to myself (instead of self-castigating or comparing), and reminding myself that this is the process, and that helps me take my missteps in stride. Love “it is the blood, sweat and tears — the imperfections and redos and breakthroughs — which make each of us unique and interesting.” Thanks, Eileen.
Tiffany, for me watching the GBBS got me obsessed with making cakes :-). That messy writing stage is the part readers don’t see, but definitely part of the process. Fun article!
I am DYING to make a Victoria sponge! :D I got on a cookie kick before the pie jam I’m in now–I seem to work through one category at a time. Cake has always been my favorite dessert, so they’re next–I bought Shirley Corrihan’s BakeWise, a baker’s bible, that has me eager to dive in. What have you tried?
The hubs has put the kibosh on baking for the moment, as we both try to get back to pre-pandemic fitness levels. It’s not very helpful to have constant pastries around. With the cookies I gave so much of it to friends and as little surprise care packages for people, but my pies are too embarrassing to share. :)
Thanks for the note, Sylvie.
I love this analogy, Tiffany! I’ll have to share this with my writers. I’m often reminded how most newbie writers haven’t yet learned the process of their craft. They think writing is a chronological system of dream, write, copy edit, and publish. Experienced writers know this is not the case. Writing involves a painstaking process of back and forth, of give and take, of revision and learning, and then learning some more.
Great post that gets right to the soft spot. Thanks!
Yours,
Dee
Thanks for this, Denise–PLEASE share! It’s one of my missions as an editor to spread the gospel that writing is rewriting. I think so often writers are taught–or come to believe–that writing is drafting, and then editing is the unpleasant cherry on top you have to just get through. But after so many years in this business, I’ve learned so viscerally that editing and revising are the real work of writing, and where the story usually takes on its shape and depth. It’s not as sexy or glamorous as the initial drafting, but it’s where the real craft lies, I think. Thanks for the comment!
I find it a powerful comparison, Tiffany, and it couldn’t be more timely for me. I have a feeling about where I want my WIP to go, but no map to get there. It’s more like when it’s there, I’ll know. Or at least I’ll feel better about it. The good news is, I have a lot more than four ingredients to work with; the bad news is I have a lot more than four ingredients to work with.
On the other hand, I share your husband’s pie standards, and being able to enjoy a slice of something that didn’t come out quite right might console me.
Thank you so much for reminding me that this is what it takes.
“The good news is, I have a lot more than four ingredients to work with; the bad news is I have a lot more than four ingredients to work with.”
Ha! The paradox of writing in a nutshell. :)
Honestly sometimes I’m in awe of how authors weave so many varied threads into a cohesive tapestry. There’s so much more that goes into creating a deep, resonant story that what’s immediately apparent on a first read. How could we expect it to happen without intensive effort? Yet it often feels so discouraging when that’s what it takes.
Thanks for the thoughts, Bob. And I’ll keep you in mind for future substandard pie tastings. :)
Great post, Tiffany and terrific analogy. My aunt made the most amazing pies and cobblers, using lard and ice-cold water in the flour and salt dry mix. She had a large bowl with that flour mixture already in it and would add the wet ingredients, swiftly cutting the lard into little pieces. I remember watching her thinking how easy it looked. Ha! While I have made passable piecrusts since my childhood introduction to the process, I’ve never reached her level of expertise. The difference? She made pie and biscuits every day of her life. I didn’t.
Applying that to writing, we will get better at the craft if we “make pie” every day. Writing can’t be a now-and-then endeavor if we are serious about what we do.
Thanks for the great post and thanks for stirring the memory of my aunt and her great baked goods.
I love this, Maryann–I grew up watching my mom bake, and emulating her, and it always seemed like such tactile, satisfying, delicious creative magic.
I think you’re right–writing gets better and easier with regular practice…even though I think there will always be those stories that vex us more than others. The trick for me is not losing faith in myself or the story when that happens.
I frequently tell authors that in nearly 30 years of working as an editor, I’ve literally never seen a story that had nothing redeeming in it, nothing we couldn’t work with and grow. It’s just sticking with it and working on it. Thanks for this.
My mother taught me to make pies. Hers were legendary.
She came to visit once in later life, and I dared serve her pie. She looked at me sadly and said hers didn’t come out that well any more.
I told her I just followed her recipe – and taught her back. Things had shifted over many years and many pies for her, but it really was just as simple as she did originally. I simply hadn’t made as many as she did, and the shortcuts hadn’t had time to ruin mine.
Sometimes simple is best.
This brought tears to my eyes, Alicia. What a lovely full-circle story. I love that you shared with your mom what she’d shared with you. Thanks for sharing it with me.
Also, pie is, IMHO, the perfect food. It can be sweet (fruit pies) or savory (tortiere); large or small (tarts); and (ideally) the contents are contained by the crust.
It’s analogous to writing in that way, too. Sweet (romance), savoury (mystery, thriller); large (War and Peace) or small (flash, short, novelette, novella); and the contents are contained by the structure (plot, character arc, theme).
Laugh if you will.
I love pie.
And I love writing!
Ha! Love your analogy! So true… :)
“But if a pie crust—with its paltry four ingredients—can take such effort for even experienced cooks to master (and they do, as I comfortingly learned in extensive troubleshooting online searches), why do authors come down on themselves so hard if they sometimes struggle to orchestrate the vast multitude of ingredients that go into creating a successful story?”
Oof. Yes. Thank you.
:) I often need the reminder too. I think we all do sometimes–it’s just a matter of remembering to give it to ourselves, remembering this is a normal part of the process, even the self-doubt and frustration. Thanks for the comment, Kristan.
But what about soufflé? All-yellow omelet? Rosti potatoes? Beef Wellington? Dry martini? All have few ingredients, but are notoriously hard to get right.
Okay, a dry martini possibly doesn’t count because the right amount of vermouth (if any) is wholly a matter of taste, as is olive or pearl onion.
Which is why I stick to whiskey drinks (sours, Old Fashioned, Manhattan) because those I understand, enjoy, and love to practice. So many variations. So many ways to build a surprise on a solid and familiar foundation.
Which, in turn, is kind of my point about writing fiction. Yes, it’s tricky. A lot of tries go in the garbage. But I start with a foundation that I understand and then experiment. My try might not work but it’s still whisky and I can feel confident about the next try.
Plus, the failure was still fun and intoxicating and didn’t exhaust me or leave me feeling that this writing business is “hard”. It’s not. It’s a privilege and a joy.
Like pie.
Yes! Sometimes we can lose sight of the fun and joy when we get wrapped around the axle. It helps to remember that core of “play” and pleasure.
And now you’ve made me want a cocktail. :) Thanks for the comment, Benjamin.
what a great article….
I just love how you remind us that the books we love don’t spring from the keyboards fully formed…. good to remember as we wrangle the words…
…And I just I had to go searching for that line out of Ethan Frome:
she ‘pressed her hand to the flat surface over the region of her heart. “That pie of yours always sets a mite heavy, Matt,” she said,
(Edith Wharton, Ethan Frome, first published 1911.)
Thanks so much,
Janet
:) Love the quote, Janet. And thanks for the kind words.
what a lovely post.
And such a great thing to remember that the books we love did not spring from the writers’ keyboards fully formed.
The pie made me go searching for that great image from Ethan Frome…
‘When supper was over she rose from her seat and pressed her hand to the flat surface over the region of her heart. “That pie of yours always sets a mite heavy, Matt”, she said,’
(Edith Wharton, Ethan Frome, first published 1911.)
Thank you for the great article.
Janet
Excellent analogy! I’m a good baker and a successful piecrust is very difficult to master. As someone said about her grandmas expertise, she did it every day. And I try to add to my balky (a perfect description, btw) WIP daily. Its taking forever to finish and maintain hope, but posts like these DO help. Thank you!
It’s nice to hear that the post is helpful, Ellen–thanks. Also quite nice to hear an experienced baker reaffirm that piecrusts are tough. It can be SO vexing to do it over and over, follow a recipe, and still have a crust catastrophe, and it helps to remember it’s tricky for everyone. Like writing, as you say. :)