They stumble that run fast

They still offered – no required – Home Ec when I was in middle school. Granted, it was only a six week class that we rotated with other subjects like wood shop, reading, art… and something else that has left my brain. What hasn’t left my brain is the fact we learned to make pizza dough. I suppose that has a lot to do with the fact that I was a latchkey kid assigned to make dinner for my family twice a week. Pizza was one of my menu staples.

I still make the dough. It’s so easy I can’t justify spending the money on pre-fab dough. Really, it’s just flour, yeast, a little bit of sugar, a little bit of salt, and oil. I have the dough down to a science. No… not science. It’s an innate habit. I don’t even have to think about it. And I’m pretty sure if you ask my friends, they will tell you my calzone is one of my better offerings to a shared dinner.

That said, as easy as it is in my habit to create this dough of perfection, I have times when I am in a rush and even the most routine of practices go awry with my haste. The dough is too thin and oozes the cheese onto the oven, filling the kitchen with the odor of burnt dairy. Or it is too thick, making a gooey middle that isn’t very tempting. I know how to avoid these mistakes, but when time isn’t an option… success is seldom an option, too.

So… here I am doing this NaNoWriMo thing. I am barreling through a word count to the halfway point. But really, writing buddies, don’t be intimidated. In spite of the fact I was freaked out by turning my head upside down to kiss the Blarney Stone, I am gifted with the ability to BS infinitely. A lot of quantity… not necessarily quality. Really. This is the girl who wrote a novel last year and struggles to trim 209,000 words down beyond 190,000. Word count is superfluous.

Because… really… I have the words. But I think the story is rather thin in places and will crack and burn. While in others, it is doughy and won’t rise to the flavor of its potential. In this crazy four week assignment.

When my perfect dough goes awry, I get discouraged. I don’t want to share it with other people, as proof of my flawed culinary skills. I don’t want to taste it. I don’t want to throw it away. I feel deflated and uninspired to go back to the kitchen.

But it is through those mishaps that I have learned letting the dough rise is the key to avoiding a disappointing calzone. It is a little more time… but not really effort. It allows the yeast to react and make the dough more than just flour and water. Just a little extra time to grow and find the substance.

This challenge really isn’t about substance. I have to remind myself of that. First drafts aren’t about substance. Ever. They are about collecting the ingredients in a bowl. But unlike cooking, I can go backwards and take out the sugar if it is too sweet or the salt if it is too sour. And then, on round two, I can let it rise.