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One of the things that has been striking me lately is that regardless of your ideological or political beliefs, it seems that no one right now is feeling especially positive about the world or the future. A sense of ennui seems to hang over many of us, not necessarily making everything feel black, but casting an overall gray pallor.
(I don’t mean to generalize and if you are one of the people feeling rosy about things right now, please do share it with the rest of us. Having some positive perspective would be welcome for many of us, I think.)
But one of the areas where I’m seeing this sense of melancholy, and experiencing it, is in our creative work. I’ve talked to so many authors feeling a bit what’s-the-pointy about their careers or their writing amid a challenging and ever-changing publishing environment, AI encroachment into creative work, increased competition, blah blah blah. You all know the realities.
But let’s leave aside this broad view for a moment and zoom in on something micro.
Read more: "When the World Sucks Your Creativity: Zoom In and Zoom Out"
The Struggle of Starter
Regular readers may recall that I have recently decided to develop hobbies, baking among them, and that has resulted in my nurturing a sourdough starter. (Warning for the delicate of sensibility: ālanguageā ahead. Avert your eyes if you must.)
If you have never tried one, sourdough starters can be testy little bastards. I killed several during the pandemic, when so many of us were trying them: They are phenomenally sensitive to temperature, humidity, how you feed them, when you feed them, and what you feed them with (the little princesses need filtered water, for instance). They may be bubbly and tall and beautiful one day, and two days later sit there lethargic and flat when you would swear you did the exact same thing you have been doing that seemed to be making it thrive.
They are mercurial in performance. One day it might take five hours for your starter to peak to the point where it’s ready to be used to bake a loaf, and the next time you try it takes nine. Timing is everything, and no matter how hard you try, it may not keep to the schedule that you painstakingly worked out and chained yourself to the house all day to allow you to accommodate the different rises and stretching and shaping to get a damn loaf of bread on your counter at some reasonable hour for you to eat it, as happened to me this past weekend.
In fact I have yet to get a loaf out of this fucker, because like a big whiny baby it crapped out on me yesterday when I had set aside the day to try my first loaf: retreating from the two-degrees-colder temperature that had fallen in the house overnight, rallying a bit when I warmed it up in a cold oven with the light on, and then completely deflating just as I came in to use it.
It is a stupid starter, and it’s too hard, and why do I want to make sourdough bread anyway, when so many other people are already doing it so much better and more advanced than I ever will and I canāt even manage to produce the most basic of sourdough bread loaves?
Read more: "What If Your Creative Flame Is Flickering?"
Figuring It Out
And then, after getting into some of the online sourdough communities where people post their struggles and helpful fellow sourdough bakers/lovers help them figure their issues out, this morning I woke up with some ideas.
I warmed the water I was using to feed my starter (her name is KJ, if you must know, after her motherānot her āmotherā as in the original starter she was spawned from, but her human mommy who created her progenitor and cloned off a glob for me), reduced the amount of starter I was maintaining, and put it on top of the refrigerator on a tea towel and wrapped in a blankie. (Yes. Wrapped in a damned blankie like a baby.)
I don’t know how the little bitch is doing. I haven’t looked yet.
But I’m also not sure it matters that much. I realized this morning that much of what I’m enjoying about trying to keep this damn thing alive and thriving is the experimentation of it. As maddening as its mercurial behavior and all of the ludicrously complex variables involved in nurturing something literally made of two fucking ingredients, I’m actually enjoying figuring it out.
Read more: "Turtle Truths about Writing"
This little shithole of a starter may be vexing me right now, but I seem to be invested in it, even somewhat fond of it, and determined to figure out what this asshole wants of me. Not because I want it to yield endless loaves of perfect sourdoughāalthough even one would be a nice bit of encouragement, KJ, wouldn’t itā¦?!ābut because I like the process of working on it, trying to solve it.
There is so much to learn and to know, and it’s challenging and annoying and frustrating and sometimes overwhelming, and last night I had decided to just quit this stupid experiment and stop letting this little crapbag keep fucking with me. I was ready to scrap the endeavor entirely and just focus on baking regular bread and cookies and cake as my hobby.
But then todayā¦oh! She was glorious: high and bubbly and jiggly, and I was SO PROUD OF HER! And of myself for creating and nurturing her!
Any of this hitting a chord, authors?
The Pleasure of the Process
I don’t plan to eat a whole bunch of sourdough breadātoo much bread actually makes me feel sluggish and bloated. I certainly have no delusions of becoming a professional sourdough baker. I just like working on it.
When I am enmeshed in the complexities and vagaries of my sensitive little sourdough starter, Iām absorbed. Iām contentedly learning, experimenting, playing.
And sometimes she yields something deliciousālike sourdough crackers or sourdough pizza crust or sourdough brownies. (Yet STILL no actual sourdough loaf yet, you saucy MINX!)
Read more: "Is It Worth It?"
I think about her all the time. I feed her faithfully every morning and I eagerly monitor her progress during the day, keeping a log of the temperature and humidity and results. I research ways to keep trying to make her better, to master the skill.
I talk about her with my friend who gave me the starter from the “mother,” comparing notes every day and trying to puzzle out our respective issues about it together, because my friend is as obsessed with hers as I am with mine. I love the connection and community of finding other people as absorbed by this pursuit as I am.
KJ is fascinating and compelling and challenging, and I LOVE HER even though I donāt know if I will ever figure her out, if I will ever reliably create tall, round, perfectly aerated flavorful boules like the ones that call to me on Instagram.
I just love her.
And right now, with the world on fire, the enjoyment and engagement and (occasional) delight I get from working on KJ feels like enough.
In fact it feels like a gift.
Authors, I hope itās readilyānay, painfully obvious that Iām drawing an allegory here to our creative work. So talk to me about your own obsessions, be they writing-related or otherwise. What gives you this kind of enjoyment and absorption? What will you work at, without any intention of material payoff or reward, for the sheer pleasure of doing it? And how might we bring some of that delight in the process to our creative workāeven when things are vexing and hard and frustrating and sometimes depressing?
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20 Comments. Leave new
I think you may be babying your starter too much :-). I am not gentle with mine and it gives me great loaves 99% of the time. I have an easy recipe where I don’t even have to bubble up the starter before using. I mix the loaf, stick it in the oven with the light on (no heat other than that). Shape it in the morning and stick it in the oven without even heating it. And hour later… the house smells great. Not sure what that means for the allegory š
Well…since I wrote this piece I actually found several recipes that use the discard to make the bread–sounds like what you may be describing too?–and are beginner-basic. I had MUCH more luck with that–and it’s making me feel a little less tightly strung about the starter.
I would very much like your recipe and technique, if you’re willing to share! My next challenge is getting a feel for the dough and the process. And then, when I am feeling brave again, I will use a freshly fed starter to try a loaf. š
Reading about little snotface was a joy! Currently obsessed with research for my sequel although I didn’t realize–until just now–that that’s what I’ve been doing. Many thanks!
I’m glad you enjoyed my saga. š And happy to hear it offered a new perspective on your own current project. Good luck with the sequel, Anmarie!
I was sure āKJā was short for Killjoy, based on the abundant expletives. Iām relieved to find out that KJ honors a delightful human. Enjoyed the allegory! Very relatable as I grind through my R&R, the little bitch wonāt bubble š
Killjoy! That’s hilarious–that should be her nickname. š Glad this hit a chord–hope your bitch starts bubbling soon….
When my son was growing up; in certain situations of repeated failures; I would repeat to him that persistence pays big dividends. Just as you found out with your bread.
An excellent lesson you’re imparting to him–one I have to remind myself of often: that failure is how you get to success. Thanks, Steve.
So, tell me Tiffany, how do you really feel? I had to chuckle as I read your post today because writing is my sourdough! I am an engineer/scientist and donāt know one damn thing about writing. Maybe thatās why my beta readers keep coming back to me and telling me my novels suck. Iām not sure why I even asked these good people for their opinion! Iām not going to change anything anyway! Ahhh, story vs. craft, sort of like room temperature for your recalcitrant sourdough starter. If you donāt like my story, just go to hell. I donāt really care. And I donāt like your stories either. So tough shit, donāt publish it.
I think one of the things that leads to frustration and eventually ennui for us poor suckers is the fact that when you are trying to give creative birth, there is always some literary genius standing there with a coat hanger. (Sorry, I know many of your readers are women, no offense.) Actually, I like sourdough, but not enough to get upset when it doesnāt rise. Same way with my novels. Maybe the safest place for my writing talent is under my bed.
Thanks for the post today. It made me laugh.
Jeff, it always strikes me that you write for the sheer joy of doing it. I think that’s so positive and rewarding, and it’s wonderful that you know what you want out of it. (That said, I hope you will speak of your writing a bit more kindly. The Muse listens! And I always say that creativity responds only to the carrot, never the stick.) Glad the post gave you a chuckle. š
I do gardening, and I’m told this means I will have more plant failures than successes. And I have plenty of failures–but I don’t give up while there’s still a bit of life in it! Sometimes I’ve been amazed at what comes back from a tiny stem. Same thing with KJ, because wouldn’t you feel horrible throwing away this annoying living blob? š As for me, I’ll stick with the plants…
Oh, gardening has repeatedly kicked my ass as well. I am a blight on plants. I wish I knew your revivification secrets! That’s a hobby to attempt down the road one day, when I have time (and inclination–I must admit it’s hard to get motivated to get outside in the oppressive Austin heat and humidity).
Love this- Thank you for making me laugh today in the best of all possible ways! And thanks to KJ for being her beautiful, mercurial self.
Happy baking!
Thanks, Randall–makes me happy that my struggles made you laugh. š
Fave post ever!!!
You made me giggle so much!
Shared with all my friends who have been on that sourdough journey and they agree with you on the saucy minxness of your KJ!
Look forward to hearing success soon! (although your trials are, of course, more storyworthy!)
š Thanks, Syl–I may be getting the hang of it!
Thank you for this post. You really gave me a laugh! I’ve been wanting to read and write more humor lately, so this was a perfect start. And on a morning where it is -37 degrees celsius outside my window (I’m on the prairies in Canada), the world news is largely depressing, and it doesn’t get fully light until after 9am, I needed a laugh!
I have various hobbies that I love. Perhaps they are a form of procrastination? Sometimes I feel guilty that they take time away from my general productivity, but I prefer to consider them an investment in my own happiness and mental health! Reading is my chief hobby, but last year I also took up pickleball, a good social activity for someone who writes at home, this year I’m starting tennis lessons, I’ve learned to crochet, I regularly cover our dining table with puzzles and board games, and I frequently indulge in games of Dutch Blitz or Sweep (a South Asian card game) with my husband, who is a willing co-procrastinator/hobbyist.
I did attempt to nurture a sourdough starter during Covid Times, and I’m afraid I had to give up. It seemed like our kitchen was too cool for it (or something!), so I put it in the oven, either with the light on or the Dough Rise setting. That was all well and fine, but then I forgot the little bitch was in there and turned on the oven to preheat it for cooking dinner. Imagine my surprise when I opened the oven door to insert my casserole or whatever and found the jar of dead, cooked, dried-out starter! Oops. After that happened for the fourth time, my family gently suggested sourdough starter was not for me, and I agreed! Haha. Now I just talk nicely to my friends who are more successful and sometimes they give me a loaf.
Anyway! Hobbies are great because having to concentrate hard on something, either to learn it or do it, is wonderful. The rest of the world and my worries fall away, and when I return to them I feel refreshed. When writing is going well, it also makes me feel like that. Fortunately, I’ve never killed my writing in the oven, and I persevere with it, even when it’s a struggle, until I get to another phase of it that fully absorbs and occupies me in that satisfying way.
Oh, dear…no wonder your sourdoughs went on strike–you’re a serial killer. š
I am playing pickleball too! (Like a big cliche.) I really enjoy it, too–like my sourdough I’m not so great at it, but I like the process of trying to improve, and as you say, it’s absorbing and satisfying. I like that it requires my focus, but in a totally different way from my work. Sounds like you have a variety of interests to give you that feeling. I’m hoping to develop more pursuits that give me that same enjoyment of learning and practicing something, and give my brain a break from the type of focus my job requires.
Glad the post gave you a chuckle, Nicholette. š
And, you’ve just given me the most entertaining reason to be grateful I have celiac disease. Yum, rice crackers, yum.
Ha! I’m glad the post can make your rice crackers more appealing. š