Suzan Colon's Blog, page 3

Is this the year you write your novel?

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One of my best holiday gifts came from a reader:

Hello Suzan–

First, I wanted to thank you for writing such an engrossing book (Cherries In Winter). I gave it to my mother-in-law for Christmas, as we share a love for good food, family and history, and she has sent me numerous emails exclaiming how she can't put the book down!

Second, how did you get started with writing? Your bio on your website describes NUMEROUS and diverse writing successes. I love the power of a well-told story, and think writing is a great way to do this. Did you get a degree in writing, or did you pursue a passion for it and were in the right place at the right time?

Thank you, again, for the quality of your craft!

Rebecca M.

First, thank you, Rebecca! Thanks to you and everyone who has read Cherries and given it as a gift to someone they love. I can't tell you how much it means to me to hear that. I always hope for it, but getting feedback from people is such an incredible feeling.

Now to the second point: writing. Over the years, people have asked me how I got started in writing, and almost as important, how I stay in it. I get the feeling a lot of you have a book or some other writing project in your minds–or, more to the point, your hearts–and it's just waiting to happen. Maybe, at that leap between New Year's Eve and the first moment of our fresh, shiny new year, you promised yourself you'd go from thinking about writing your novel to actually writing it. Maybe this is going to be the year.

So… How do you do that?

I'll tell you how I did it and offer a few helpful suggestions. My story won't work for everyone, but there are aspects of it that can be adapted to your writing goals.

To go back to the beginning, one year during college, I procrastinated on getting a summer job to the point that there were none to be had. My mother suggested that I get an internship instead (preferably a paying one, but whatever would get me out of the house). I wasn't even sure what an internship was, but Mom said, "Pick your favorite magazines and ask them if they need help."

I was late to this party, too; all the paid internships were taken. But I refused to give up–mostly because I was afraid of what Mom would say. I convinced a small music magazine to take me on as an unpaid intern because I could type 85 words a minute. (This is Adaptable Tip #1: Do you have a skill you can use to get your foot in the door?)

The magazine took me on as an intern. A brilliant writer and editor by the name of David Keeps, who now works with the LA Times and tons of mags, became my mentor. Two months later, he hired me as an editorial assistant. (Adaptable Tip #2: Can you get a job in your chosen field that could lead to what you really want to do?)

I set my mind to "open," learning everything I could about writing for magazines. (Adaptable Tip #3: Whatever kind of writing you want to do, learn everything you can about the field. I want to write romance novels, so I've been reading them, I joined the Romance Writers of America, I've studied what other authors have done, etc.) I've stayed in touch with the contacts I made (Adaptable, and obvious, Tip #4: Be nice to everyone you meet). I worked as ethically as possible, meeting deadlines, sticking to word counts, asking questions when I didn't know the answer. I tried to be humble when given constructive criticism, and I said "Thank you" even when the criticism was more destructive than constructive.

As you can see from my bio, the combination of those opportunities and the work ethic I learned from my parents and grandparents has kept me gainfully employed as a writer for most of my adult life. Most of it; I had to take a job as a bartender for a while, but I kept writing, and who knows? That nutty episode may end up in a book some day. (Adaptable Tip #5: You do what you have to do to pay rent and keep yourself in rice and beans, the cheapest and most nutritious meal in the world, but don't let go of your dreams.)

Hopefully something of my story will be of use to those of you who want to make your dreams of writing a reality. In my next post, I'll talk about how you can start writing, include more tips and resources and, most important, encouragement.

All my best,

S

How much is enough?

According to the Census Bureau, the median income for American families in 2009 was just under $50,000, while some reports from last year slash that figure to $26,000. The poverty level is considered to be just over $22,000. And how much would it take for people to feel financially secure? A recent Gallup poll put the magic number at $150,000–as an annual salary, with a net worth of $1 million.

I've been seeing a lot of TV segments on how the median–that is to say, actual people with lives and needs and dreams–are struggling to get by on very little money. In the midst of many crushingly sad stories came one refreshingly different one, about a family of three who are living on about $20,000 a year. And not just living; they're living well.

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Michael Fleming and Jennifer Wurst live in rural Maine with their toddler son. Michael is an artist who makes beautiful furnishings and art out of driftwood he collects at a nearby beach. Jennifer is a stay-at-home mom who manages Michael's business and takes care of their son and their home. And let's talk about that home: Jennifer has a flair for decor that redefines shabby chic. Check out these photos…

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And where did most of their stuff come from? The town dump. Not in its current state, either; Michael and Jennifer salvage, clean, refurbish, and reuse what they find.

Their way of life isn't for everyone–they never go out to eat, don't get haircuts or go to movies or get new clothes (or new anything). Nor would most of us be able to live that way. The family relies on Maine's state-provided health insurance; rent for their home is just $600 a month; and they clearly have, as my friend Carolina put it, "mad survival skills."

What I like about their story, though, is that they may not have much and they may want more, but they're happy. Their focus is on family and living a creative life that also has a positive effect on the environment. A quick walk around my neighborhood–not a wealthy one, I assure you–always reveals something waiting for garbage pickup that is in perfectly good condition. My grandparents didn't throw away clothes that might otherwise just need mending, or furniture that would be like new with a nice set of slipcovers. But try getting electronics fixed, and you'll be told it's cheaper to just buy new. There goes another huge TV into a landfill…

One of the many lessons I learned from my family while writing Cherries in Winter was to use what I had, from food (Americans throw away 253 pounds of food a year!), to clothes, to anything else that was just gently worn and could be salvaged. I like to feed my bank account, not landfills.

I also learned, like Michael and Jennifer, that it's not always necessary to have the trappings of wealth if it's going to cost you your life. Believe me, I like my stuff, but I value the time I have with my husband and my family far more.

So, my friends, what do you think–how much is enough? And do you feel like you're just getting by, or living well?

xx,

S

No Kid Hungry: Your $ matched now!

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Ah, the holidays: We've just finished one big meal, and we're already planning the next. Between those two is a day where people storm shops to buy stuff, extending pepper spray instead of good will to all men. 'Tis the season to be jolly!

And, for a staggering 16 million children, hungry.

In Cherries in Winter, I wrote about my family going hungry during the Great Depression, and unfortunately history is repeating itself. This recession is bringing more and more families to local food pantries and soup kitchens. The only meal many kids eat is the one served at school–and that's only if it's free.

Last night's episode of Food Network chef competition show Chopped featured not professional chefs but lunch ladies. These women aren't just trying to make sure students eat healthfully; sometimes they're trying to help kids eat, period. One woman told a heartbreaking story about loading backpacks full of food for children she knows don't have access to food over the weekend. (This was one of the best eps of Chopped ever; repeat viewing info here, and have a box of tissues nearby.)

Don't worry, I've come to the part where there's good news. The Food Network has partnered with No Kid Hungry and is matching your donations now through December 31. Your $5 becomes $10, your $8 (just to throw in a random amount) becomes $16 (less random, more helpful!), etc. For information, click here. For the instant gratification that comes with doing good, click here.

That next big meal is going to taste even better when you know you've helped someone else have a nice dinner too. And for those of you getting trampled and pepper-sprayed in the fight to buy gifts, consider giving this far less dangerous present.

Happy holidays, everyone,

S

BYOB (Be Your Own Boss)

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I got laid off on a Friday afternoon. I ate a lot of pasta that night. I gave myself the weekend to feel sorry for myself.

On Monday morning, I went back to work.

What work? I had no job, no prospects; we were in a recession where no one was hiring and companies were barely giving freelance assignments–and those who were offered them at half the old rate. (Pride, schmide; I took what I could get.) But that Monday morning, I started work at a new company: Me, LLC.

I had to think of myself as a company because, to be blunt, it helped me get dressed in the morning. I couldn't afford the luxury of depression–that's just not my family's way. From my mother to my grandparents and further back, you got up and got dressed, and you found work. So that's what I did. And when I couldn't find work, I created some by writing a book and pushing it until I got an agent and we got it published. I worked harder on that than anything I've ever worked on in my life, there were a lot of tears involved, and I loved every minute of it.

If there is an upside to this recession, it's that a lot of people are taking the opportunity to reinvent themselves and strike out on their own. The latest is my friend Linda, who started AuroraSana–reiki for animal companions, transformational coaching for humans! Check out her Facebook page here.

Being your own boss–and employee, and publicist, and marketing manager, and intern–isn't easy. Lots of people have told me they don't have the discipline to work at home. I have something better than discipline: Incentive. I show up every day at my desk and work hard, but I'm also here when my husband gets home, I can pick up a relative at the doctor's office, I can see my nephew, I can write novels . . . I can have a life, one that isn't necessarily spent behind a desk under the rather unflattering glare of fluorescent lights.

If you've started your own company, have your assistant (you) contact mine (me) and tell me about it. I love these kind of stories, and I hope to continue being one.

With kindest regards,

Suzan Colón

CEO, CFO, COO, chief cook, and bottle washer,

Me, LLC

Happy Bittersweet Anniversary

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This month marks the third anniversary of the publication of Cherries in Winter, and I have to say this is something of a bittersweet birthday for my book.

I wrote Cherries as a response to the collapse of not only our economy, but a way of life. I guess you could say our comfort bubble burst–or, more realistically, blew up in our faces. From foreclosures to austerity measures earlier and deeper than those going on in Greece right now, America reeled in 2009.

And we continue to try to seek balance in the "new normal." I'm writing this on the morning that the Occupy Wall Street protesters were served a surprise eviction notice in the middle of the night, the day after Oakland police cracked down (sometimes literally) on OWS protesters in California. People finally got over their shock at what happened and got angry, and that's good. But the real work will be maintaining enough hope to create positive change–and to keep our souls together.

This was why I wrote Cherries. I wasn't really that impaled by the financial collapse because I grew up in an eternal recession; my family was never well off, so those austerity measures I mentioned before were just our way of life. The point of Cherries was to remind everyone that we, as a people, have been through these rough times before. We may not remember them in our lifetime, but grab someone over 50 (gently) and they'll tell you stories that will curl your toes in your worn-out shoes.

I'd meant for Cherries to be relevant after the recession for other challenging times in life, but three years later it's still on its main point. Which is not to dwell on what's bad–we've got enough sources for that–but to not give up. To know that there's always someone else worse off than us, so we should buy a can of beans to put in the food pantry collection bin. To bake our own bread, not just because it's cheap but because it's a good thing to do with hands that might otherwise be gripping your head in desperation. We will get through this, and other bad things, and we'll look forward to leaning into good times with the backbones we've cultivated.

I look forward to the day my little book's message is a quaint, dated memory. Until then, happy anniversary, and may your life be less bitter and more sweet.

xx,

S

Above: My family's recipe for hope in hard times, still relevant . . . unfortunately. (Thanks to Barnes & Noble Tribeca for putting Cherries in such good company.)"

Oh, Canada! I Ate Montreal

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Poutine: Je regrette.

Bonjour, mes amours!

Montreal. The little Paris of the North. Vene, vidi, heart shape: I came, I saw, I fell in love. The city reminded me of New York, only everyone was speaking French. If heaven can be customized, this was my nirvana.

And the food: swoon. I mean, pretty much any day that starts out with crepes or a croissant–or crepes AND a croissant–is going to be a good day. But the tone for our trip was actually set the first night, after a really un-thrilling 12-hour train ride. Amtrak, I love you, but 12 hours of almost anything, especially a rickety ride on the ol' rails with seats near the loo, is a one-way ticket to Feh-sville.

Thankfully, our friends Margaret and David spirited our train-sore posteriors to Da Emma, a chic, noisy underground urban Roman palace. My eyes rolled happily back in my head over the papardelle with juicy, salty mushrooms. I can't find Da Emma's official website, but you can read about it and find the address here.

Another night, another amazing dinner–this time at Barocco, a French/Spanish mashup where things look as delicious as they taste. Squash soup; doesn't sound too exciting, until this liquid velvet comes served in a hollow pumpkin on a plank. I mean… They also served a luscious little plum cake, all dense but light cake with a spoonful of tang underneath. On top was a little yellow gift wrapped in beige leaves–cerise de terre, a citrusy berry.

All this, though, supposedly pales in comparison to one Canadian delicacy: poutine. I was told by David and Margaret's son, Kyle, that poutine was the one thing we couldn't leave Canada without having. Kyle is an awesome speed metal drummer, so he knows about these things.

I thought from the slightly slutty sounding name that poutine was going to be some sort of spicy casserole, but wrong-o. Poutine is a mess of French fries topped with gravy and cheese curds. (Why curds and not melted cheese, or just cheese shreds? Canada!) Yeah, it sounds like somebody's idea of a hangover cure, and it's probably very useful for that. But apparently poutine is great for dinner, lunch, breakfast, and the meal you eat while swearing to heaven that you'll never, ever repeat last night again. Until tonight.

Unforch, this was the one thing the Hubbins and I didn't have before we crossed the border back into the USA. Dang it! I'll just have to make my own version of this northern indelicate delicacy. Stay tuned for the recipe.

Bisoux,

S

DIY hummus

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Why would you want to make your own hummus when there's hummus already made and waiting in nice plastic packages at the supermarket? A few reasons:

* In the arena between pre-made on an assembly line and you-made at home, you are always going to reign supreme.

* Read the label on the side of that pre-made hummus. I bet you're not going to put those multi-syllabic ingredients into your own homemade hummus.

* Plastic schmastic. Food stored in plastic tends to taste like its container after a while. And are those plastic containers really being recycled?

* Money, honey. A container of pre-made, preservative-enhanced hummus usually sets me back about $4.50. Not the end of the world for a half-pound of chic [sic] pea love. But I bought 2 lbs. of chic [I spell it that way on purpose] peas for $2.29. Do you know how much hummus you can make with two pounds of dried beans? About 4 lbs. Considering that I eat hummus practically every day, that's quite a savings of kizash.

My final argument for homemade hummus is the fact that it's easy:

Soak 1 1/2 C dried chick peas overnight in cool water to cover.

Boil peas for 90 minutes until tender.

Place peas in a food processor with 1/4 C tahini, 1/2 to 1 teaspoon cumin (depending on your taste), a shake or two of garlic powder (more if you don't have a business meeting), 1/4 teaspoon of paprika (or cayenne if you're one of the some who like it hot), and a few dashes of salt and pepper. Add a little of the chick pea water if needed.

Blend, baby. Blend. Halt the processor and scrape the errant peas off the sides of the sides. Blend again until smooth, or brake if you like chunky hummus.

Apply delicious paste to pita chips, crackers, or wraps and pat yourself on the back while you're kvelling. You made your own hummus. And you made me proud.

xx,

S

Photo courtesy of stuffwhitepeoplelike.com, which is one of the most hilarious websites ever. And unfortunately funny because it's true.

A "Cherries" story from a reader

Hey everyone,

Daytona Strong (who has one of the best names ever) wrote to me a few months ago saying she had a very Cherries-like story about her Grandpa and a family recipe she loves. Here it is, along with great photos. I'm so glad to be able to post them here.

Thank you, Daytona!

xx,

S

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It was late summer 1992. Grandpa M. had just passed away. T-boned while driving through an intersection. Months in a coma. Gone.

On that September afternoon—in the church where two generations of my family had worshipped God and relatives had gotten married—we all gathered in the steel blue sanctuary to say goodbye.

When you're ten years old, things hit you in a peculiar way. You store away the details in your memory—little things like the silly nickname you gave your grandfather and the way you used to lock him out of the house and giggle while he pretended to not see you hiding inside. You remember a seven-syllable medical term you can't define–subdural hematoma–and the quiet helium confidence you felt as you walked up the blue carpeted stairs to give a eulogy at your grandfather's funeral.

"What I'll miss about Grandpa was his hot dish."

What a strange, insensitive little girl, those who didn't know me must have thought. But in a way that's inexplicable to those of us who are no longer children, that was the most evocative–and, in a way, profound–honor I could give my beloved grandfather.

Grandpa and Grandma M. met in North Dakota before the war. Rearing two daughters and a son in a rural town where their extended family ran the bar and local car dealership, they left in the 1960s to head west to Seattle. Planting their roots in Ballard–a distinctly Scandinavian neighborhood overlooking the Puget Sound–they settled into a brick house where they made a home, Grandma in her kitchen on the main floor, Grandpa in his kitchen in the basement.

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In the summer they'd harvest the raspberries from their backyard garden, treating the kids to the sunny burst of berries picked at the peak of perfection and dressed with sugar and milk. Grandpa would package the raspberries into flats and sell them to passers-by. As the weather cooled and Christmas approached, Grandpa and Grandma would convert the basement kitchen into a lefse factory, rolling potato patties into thin rounds and baking them on a portable grill amidst a cloud of flour. The lefse–dressed with butter and sugar, and maybe a sprinkle of cinnamon–remains a holiday tradition to this day as Grandma–now 92 years old–teaches Mom and me how to make it.

Grandpa's hot dish fed us when we visited. Ground beef, egg noodles, three kinds of canned soup, and a mix of seasonings, it tasted like the epitome of comfort food–warm, creamy, soft, and made with love. Existing as no single memory, rather as a conglomerate of happy ones, that hot dish was a tangible representation of the cozy warmth of my grandparents' love. Somehow, as a ten-year-old girl, I understood that.

Unlike lefse, however, Grandpa's hot dish has lived on almost exclusively as a memory for me these past 19 years. I've since found the recipe. Grandpa published it, with the name "Egg Noodle Doop," in his church's cookbook decades ago. Part of me wants to try making it myself, but the other part knows it will never be the same. While he had the ingredients listed, I'm pretty sure he always gave it his own special touch–that of improvisation and of love.

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Daytona Strong explores her Scandinavian heritage through the lens of food at Outside Oslo (LINK: http://outsideoslo.wordpress.com/), and co-authors the online writing resource Nooks & Cranberries (LINK: http://nooksandcranberries.com/).

An Open Letter to Jake Gyllenhaal

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Oh come on, how could I NOT stare?!

Dear Jake Gyllenhaal,

I'm sorry I stared at you while you were eating dinner at Angelica Kitchen, one of my favorite restaurants. I used to interview celebrities for a living, so I didn't think I'd turn into the starstruck type, but that's the level of charisma you're packing.

I only dared to stare because your back was to me so you probably didn't know, though I was staring so hard I'm surprised your neck didn't turn red and burn. I was eye-mugging you because it's a thrill to see someone whose work you admire–I've seen nearly all your movies and you have, on occasion, made me weep (especially in Donnie Darko and Brokeback Mountain).

And yes, I fully admit that I gave you the plate-sized eyes because–and I don't mean to objectify you in any way–you are hot. Or, as they say in Indiana, hawt. Hotter in person, even, than in movies. Which is not to say you're not hot on film.

And last, I stared because it's cool to see a hot actor you admire eating vegan food!! I'm glad to say I wasn't visually stalking you so much that I know what you were eating, but I hope you had some of the vegan chocolate cheesecake because it was a very happy experience.

But I apologize; staring is rude. And I swear I was not checking out The Angelica Home Kitchen cookbook just because it was tied to the hostess station right behind you. I really needed their corn bread recipe. (Yes, I bought the book.)

I'm sorry, Jake. But I can't promise I won't do it again.

xx,

S

And now, a word from our author…

Hi all,

Just wanted to give you a quick update on what's been going on:

* Deadline madness! My adventures in bookland continue with many possibilities for projects, any one of which would make my head spin off its little axis with joy. But as the Oscar nominees say, just being considered is an honor. (No, really; I mean that.) When something comes through, I'll be sure to let you know.

* In the meantime, I've been grooving on the following books:

The Kind Diet by Alicia Silverstone. Who ever thought our fave actress from Clueless would become such a force of nature in the world of animal rights, and do it so deliciously with great vegan recipes? Color me shocked and thrilled. Check out her great website here.

I've also discovered The 30-Day Vegan Challenge by Colleen Patrick-Goudreau. She has a great website with recipes, podcasts, and videos here. For anyone who wants to know what famous vegans like Ellen DeGeneres and Portia de Rossi DeGeneres, Alicia Silverstone, former president Bill Clinton, Casey Affleck, Alec Baldwin, civil rights leader Coretta Scott King, Tobey Maguire, Lea Michele, Alice Walker, and many, many others are eating, take a look at these yummy books.

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And, for spiritual food, I am being truly inspired by The Guru in You by Yogi Cameron Alborzian. I'm guessing that it wasn't just me who was at first rather distracted (ahem) by Yogi Cameron's physical presence, and I'm not just talking about his serene expression.

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He was the model in Madonna's "Express Yourself" video, so he's part of my happy pop culture memories. He's since become an Ayurvedic therapist and yoga instructor (we were both trained and certified at Integral Yoga Institute in New York, though not, unforch, at the same time). The Guru in You is filled with calming observations of how we can move in this materialistic world toward a kinder, more peaceful way of living. Yogi Cameron does an excellent job of translating yogic terminology and ideology to relate to our lives today, and the results can be subtle but profound. And yes, there are pictures. [image error]

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* I've been vegan for four months now, and I haven't missed meat at all. I'm grateful to Rip Esselstyn, author of The Engine 2 Diet, for being the catalyst for change in my life. I feel better physically (lost those pesky five pounds at last!!), emotionally, and spiritually. Neat-o.

* I'll be updating my "Into Thin Hair" post soon, but wanted to report actual results rather than finger-crossed hopes. I was pretty amazed and hope you'll stop by again to read what happened…

Hope you're all doing well!

xx,

S