Posts by Monica Bhide
“Are we going to die, Mama?” I overheard this conversation as I walked behind a young woman and her preteen daughter. The local government here had just announced the lockdown due to COVID-19 and the news was spreading. I had heard the mom tell the daughter that they would have to stay inside for now, as there was an invisible illness in the air that could hurt people. The mom stopped and hugged her daughter. And the child added, “I love you, Mama. I am scared.”
At some point, I think we are all that child. Scared, worried, uncertain about what is coming. I certainly wasn’t prepared for the torrent of my own roller coaster of emotions, much less the messages I was getting from my friends, family, and readers. I was still nursing my wounds of my twenty-four-year-long marriage ending, a heartbreak that I had not been prepared for, and the resurgence of my chronic pain issues, financial problems, and, well, you name it.
And then the pandemic hit. It is like life was imitating a country music song: first the dog died, then the house burned down, then it felt like the world, as we knew it, ended.
I found myself on the other end of long phone calls, walking friends through some gentle guidance and meditation to accept what was happening so that we could calm our chaos and deal with the situation.
Every day, questions like these were arriving in my mailbox:
I knew I had to do something. So I created these short sound bites, Powered by Hope, to help my friends and readers deal with this surreal time in our lives. Their goal is to offer gentle stories, hope, and self-care for all of us. I offer listeners a different perspective, as our world faces a “new normal” and we learn what is means to be physically distant, yet connected as humans at our very core. At the end of each audio bite, I offer listeners the chance to put my reflections into practice, and lead them on a uniquely crafted and specialized guided exercise to calm and center the mind. The guided exercises allow people a moment of reflection, the opportunity to pause and think about their lives.
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I just wrote a book that I never thought I would write. And now I am now writing this post that I never thought I would write.
As a writer I have written on food, lifestyle, travel, family, work, and love. I have written nonfiction, fiction, and poetry. But never in my wildest dreams did I think that one day my life as I knew it would be over and I would write a book about caring for a loved one, suddenly suffering a life-threatening illness in a coma, in the intensive care unit.
The process of writing a book like this, as you who have written such deeply personal work know, was simply painful. The first draft, writing about facts of the incident, was in some ways healing, as I could put the pain on paper. Then came the edits. It was hard to read the manuscript again. The talented editor asked me to “show, not tell,” and to add details and go more into depth about certain feelings, times, and places.
I did not want to, and fought her tooth and nail. If I dove deep, I relived the nightmare again and again and had to recall every single moment of pain. I resisted. I was afraid and, honestly, I was exhausted.
And yet: what do you do when the book chooses you?
I edited, I cried, I cursed, I wrote, I wept, I worried. Sharing such a personal event was hard. I spoke to other people who have written about gut-wrenching topics. It was like looking in a mirror: You have to do what you have to do.
I tried to compare myself to people suffering from worse trauma, worse pain, and who have written about it. Instead of helping, it frightened me even more and made me feel that I should be stronger than I was being.
I keep preaching, when I teach, that as a writer I have often found that my calling guides my path. Well, here I am now—the calling is pulling me down a path I did not want to go on.
I feel like I have let everyone down. I feel this need to be stronger. Writing this book requires me to show my vulnerability…and yet, what I want to feel and show is that I am strong: I can do this. If I can get through this, you can, too. But did I really get through this? A wise writer, Haruki Murakami, said, “When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in.”
I struggle to find my identity and my balance as a writer, my peace as a spouse, and my vulnerability as a human being.
Then I get an email from a reader. She is in the hospital with her loved one who is really sick. She is terrified. She feels alone. I mail her the book.
As I tackle my fiction now, after this experience, I ask myself what I have learned about human behavior and how we all react in different situations. As a result, my approach towards my characters has changed radically. Instead of writing up character profiles (what is their star sign and what color is their hair), I do something I had never done before […]
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I grew up eating only one type of rice: white. When I was young, I thought there was only that one type of rice. Of course, as I grew older I learned about white rice and brown rice, but I don’t think I ventured much further than that. Then, at a point in my food writing career, I was honored and delighted to interview author Naomi Duguid, coauthor of Seductions of Rice. As we discussed the rice of my childhood, the white, nutty, aromatic basmati rice, Duguid said something quite insightful: She called it my “home rice.” She said that for many cultures, rice is an anchor point—it provides a sense of place and belonging. “This is the rice you will turn to day in and day out. It is the one you perfect for yourself,” she said.
That stayed with me. I kept thinking of this concept of an anchor point, a narrative that provides comfort and belonging. I began to see the analogy with my writing career: When I began writing, my home rice was the belief that in order to become a successful author, I had to find an agent, publish with a big house, have my name in big magazines and newspapers. That was how I would belong to the writing community. I repeatedly returned to that anchor point no matter what I faced: acceptances, rejections, good stories, bad stories, good reviews, bad reviews. I knew what my anchor point was. No matter how much I disliked the narrative I told myself—the only way to make a name for myself and get validation as a writer was to be with a big publisher—it was my anchor point and I was afraid to let it go.
Then the world became different, and being with a big name publisher wasn’t the golden ticket anymore (at least, not for me). Indie publishing started to become big. It did not, at the time, fit with my theory of home rice.
And then it did.
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Our family recently experienced a life-changing medical emergency. As the doctors, nurses, and other hospital staff worked endlessly to save my husband’s life, I was, as a caregiver, on the sidelines. Feelings of helplessness, grief, sadness, and frustration found a home in my heart. During the time of his hospitalization and now, during post-op care, I find myself reaching again and again for the only thing that gives me great comfort: books. For some people, it is music, or medication, or meditation, or walking, or yoga, or rock climbing. For me, it has been and always will be books. I found myself reading everything from old favorites – such as When Breath Becomes Air – to contemporary releases like Into the Water by Paula Hawkins. I read books about my husband’s illness, about finding motivation during hard times, about how to care for yourself when caring for others. During endless hours in waiting rooms, I read what felt like every magazine available. (I’m now completed updated on George Clooney’s twins.)
As the political climate got nastier, I found myself researching old books about what all this means. What happened during the time of Nixon, and is there any parallel? Earlier in the election cycle there was a lot of discussion about the daily security briefing a president receives; I wondered what that was all about, and how and why it was done. Yes: There was a book on it. I remember ordering it and learning more on a topic that has nothing to do with what I do for a living, but it helped me understand what the issues being spoken about really meant.
I remember a blog post I wrote years ago, wondering if my current profession – food writing – even matters. The variety of responses surprised me then. But nothing surprised me more than what happened when massive tragedy hit home. I wasn’t able to cook or feed my family as I wanted but I found myself, late at night, reaching for the cookbooks on my nightstand. Just going through them comforted me, provided solace, and made me think of happier times. I began to bookmark recipes I would cook when things settled down. They gave me hope . . . that things would settle down.
All this made me wonder: What if, during hard times – whether personal, professional, or political – we writers stopped writing? I say this because that was my first instinct when my whole world fell apart: I stopped writing. My friends, my mentor, and my father constantly told me to keep a journal, but at first I scorned. How could they tell me to keep writing when everything seemed to be going up in flames? And then, slowly, I realized what was giving me comfort was words. Words others had written during times of great turmoil. And some not written during times of turmoil. But all those words offered me great relief during a heartbreaking time. Getting lost in a good mystery to avoid dealing with medical what-ifs for an hour was a blessing. Even if just for an hour.
What if no one had documented diseases, plagues, wars, personal illnesses? We would lose who we are as […]
Read MorePlease welcome Monica Bhide to Writer Unboxed as our newest regular contributor! Monica is is an award winning writer, literary coach, poet, storyteller, and educator. She is the author of the novel Karma and the Art of Butter Chicken, which has just been nominated for the Library of Virginia Literary Awards, fiction category! (Congratulations, Monica!)
As a bestselling fiction and internationally renowned cookbook author, she is known for sharing food, culture, mystery, and love in her writing. That’s why we thought a column on recipes for writing success seemed ideal. Welcome, Monica!
I was a traditionally published nonfiction author, by Simon & Schuster and other houses. I wrote for major newspapers (New York Times, Washington Post, Chicago Tribune) and magazines (Food & Wine, Bon Appétit, Parents). People in my industry were aware of my work. And then, in 2014, I wrote and independently published a collection of short stories. When I reached out to dozens of traditional media for reviews—or even just to ask them to take a peek at the book—I was mostly met by closed doors. The reason: “We don’t consider independently published books.”
After hearing so many nos when I’d hoped for yeses, I thought perhaps I had made a mistake writing fiction. So I focused anew on my well-established platform of food writing. I published a memoir featuring my food essays that had appeared in various traditional publications. In late 2014 and early 2015, I pitched the book to multiple outlets. The response was a little better—the Washington Post and Mint (a leading Indian business newspaper) gave it good consideration—but I got the same negative reply from many others: “We do not cover independently published books.” Everyone had said having a platform would help, but it did not.
Marketing my books was proving to be a discouraging challenge. I was disappointed and, honestly, had begun to doubt myself and my decision to become an indie author.
Then I had a revelation: If I was going to publish nontraditionally, then I had to market nontraditionally.
When I released Karma and the Art of Butter Chicken, my debut food fiction, in late 2016, I changed my marketing approach. I am sharing my experiences here in the hope that they will inspire and motivate you to create your own nontraditional marketing plan. Mine now includes the following elements.
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Some priceless items found at estate sales (Photo by Monica Bhide)
Please welcome our guest Monica Bhide whose first novel Karma and the Art of Butter Chicken released earlier this year! Monica’s work has appeared in Food & Wine, Bon Appétit, Saveur, The Washington Post, Health, The New York Times, Ladies Home Journal, AARP The Magazine, Parents, and many others. Her books have been published by Simon & Schuster and Random House (India). The Chicago Tribune named Bhide one of the seven food writers to watch in 2012. In April 2012, Mashable.com picked her as one of the top ten food writers on Twitter. Connect with her there and on Facebook.
***Monica has generously offered to give one lucky commenter a signed copy of her novel Karma and the Art of Butter Chicken! To be entered in the contest, please leave a comment and we will select a winner at random.***
Creating Authenticity from Estate Sale Treasures
Disclaimer: I have not revealed any personal information here or in my book from any materials I found. Even the words in the letters mentioned below have been altered a bit to respect people’s privacy.
One of the things I always look for as a writer is inspiration to create an authentic sense of place, time, and character.
My most recent book, my debut novel, released earlier this year. That book is set in a monastery in Delhi, and for that I traveled to Delhi and was able to go to several monasteries and talk to many monks. While this endeavor cost time and money, it was doable since monasteries are public places and I could go inside and ask questions quite freely.
My current novel is based in Washington, DC, and the suburbs of northern Virginia, where I live. I am currently working on creating characters who were born and grew up in this area. I have lived here for many years and know much of the area well, but the locations I selected for my book aren’t those I am familiar with. (This was deliberate, to force myself to learn new things.) I was really struggling with trying to get a deep sense of what it must have been like for families living here in, say, the 1960s through now. I did not want to use Google or the libraries – I was looking for something more firsthand. I wanted to find a different way.
Of course, one easy way was to talk to people who live in the places I was focused on. So I began to visit the areas regularly and talk to owners of stores, people walking their dogs, and so on. Then, quite by chance, I was invited by a friend to an estate sale in one of my places of interest. Visiting the house where the estate sale was being held, I felt like I had hit the jackpot. I found amazing things in the house: old letters dating back to the 1920s, beautiful postcards from that time that the person had collected. The house and its contents revealed so many stories.
Here is what I learned from visits to various estate sales as ways to create an authentic sense of time, place, […]
Read MorePlease welcome today’s returning guest, Monica Bhide. Monica is an established nonfiction writer, appearing in Food & Wine, The New York Times, Parents, Cooking Light, Prevention, Bon Appetit, and many other publications. She’s been named one of the seven noteworthy food writers to watch by The Chicago Tribune, and one of the top 10 food writers on Twitter by Mashable. She’s also published three cookbooks, including her June release, Modern Spice: Inspired Indian recipes for the contemporary Kitchen.
Monica’s first short fictional story, entitled Mother, was published by Akashic Books in a collection called Singapore Noir just over a month ago.
We’re thrilled to have Monica back with us today to talk about one of our favorite topics — pushing through doubt.
You can learn more about Monica on her website, and by following her on Facebook and Twitter.
On Giving Up
Last week, I made a rather harsh decision. I decided to quit writing. Forever.
To know how hard this decision was for me, consider this: all I have wanted to do is write stories. But sharing stories, in my culture, is the equivalent of being perpetually unemployable. My parents were totally against my decision to become a writer. So instead I earned myself an engineering degree with two masters in technology. And found myself employed with a six-figure job for over a decade. But the calling to write was too strong and in the end it won out. I became a writer, a food writer to be more specific. For ten years, I wrote books, articles for national and international magazines and newspapers, and commentaries; got nominated for some awards; and even managed to get a syndicated column. I thought I had it made.
Until last week, that is.
You see, I met with a group of real writers. You know the ones, who in my arena at least, went to cooking school, slaved for years in restaurant kitchens to pay for going to a top-of-the-line journalism school, started out in journalism by sorting mail and eventually grew into editors, reporters, award-winning writers. As I heard them speak about their experiences, I felt myself shrinking in size. Their chat made me realize my biggest fear: my writing could never ever be as rich as theirs for I lacked the credentials they had. I thought I was a writer but after listening to them, I realized that I had no credentials to be a writer. I have never gone to culinary school, I have never stepped into the building of a journalism school much less taken a college-level writing class.
I was what they were referring to as a fraud.
Read MorePlease welcome today’s guest, Monica Bhide, to Writer Unboxed! Monica is a well-established nonfiction writer, appearing in such publications as Food & Wine, The New York Times, Parents, Cooking Light, Prevention, Bon Appetit, and many more. She’s been named one of the seven noteworthy food writers to watch by The Chicago Tribune, and one of the top 10 food writers on Twitter by Mashable. She’s also published three cookbooks, including her June release, Modern Spice: Inspired Indian recipes for the contemporary Kitchen.
Monica’s first short fictional story, entitled Mother, was published by Akashic Books in a collection called Singapore Noir just this month.
Recently, Monica pitched us for a guest post here at WU, and we couldn’t resist. She wrote:
We all deal with writing projects that fail. As a recovering engineer, I felt I need to engineer a way to deal with the failed project and move forward. I hope my technique will help people move forward in a more productive way.
Intrigued? Read on. We think you’ll enjoy Timeboxed Whining as much as we did.
You can learn more about Monica on her website, and by following her on Facebook and Twitter.
Timeboxed Whining
Some projects die. No matter how talented the creator, how great the project, how awesome the reviews are, there are projects that do not make it. Books with great reviews sell only a few copies, paintings end up in dumpsters, innovative products never make it to market. Why? I don’t know. Maybe the timing wasn’t right, maybe the stars did not align, or maybe the artist wore the wrong shirt. What is my point? Shit happens.
I have had manuscripts shrivel up and die, and books that I thought would be awesome just barely create a flutter in the market. It is hard. As creative people, we put our heart and souls into our work, and when it doesn’t succeed, all we want to do is quit.
I have created a coping technique to deal with the sadness that accompanies such a situation. I call it “Timeboxed Whining.”
Timeboxing is a technique I learned about during my consulting days in corporate America. Basically, it places a time limit on a situation. For instance, no matter what happens, the six o’clock news needs to go on at six. So the preparation work for that broadcast needs a timebox, which is to say it needs to be completed within a certain timeframe no matter what else happens because there is a hard deadline at the end.
Now, combine that with whining and you have a workable solution to mourning a failed project. (Artists swear by this. I do, too.) This is a five-day exercise. Here is how it works.
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