PRIDE AND INSECURITY

Chaco Deals with Insecurity Like This  What I’m talking about is that I’ve got a new nonfiction book out - Saving Eagle Mitch: One Good Deed in a Wicked World.  It’s a book that chronicles my attempt at achieving something impossible, and the people who helped get it done.  I’m proud of what we all did, and proud of the book itself, because it offers both hope and some practical advice for anyone trying to better their world.         Because of that, I’m really celebrating its arrival in the world, just in time for the return of spring birds and peepers peeping.  But if you think I’m just celebrating, clearly you’re not a writer.      I’m also twitching.  Picking fights with my husband because he’s bantering when my ego is fragile as a warm day in April.  Wishing I was a drinking woman, or had some other really reliable opiate addiction, because sending a book into the world is no small thing.  Not at all.  Not ever.  Don’t let anyone tell you it is.      Of course, it’s possible that I’m just a terribly neurotic writer.  Wait a minute.  Let me amend.  Quite a few therapists would agree that I am definitely a terribly neurotic writer.  On the other hand, I think the moment of a new book’s arrival in the world causes a tremble or two for steadier hands and heads than mine.  It’s like having a baby.  SO much joy.  SO much fear.  SO much EVERYTHING!    Or maybe, more appropriately, like sending your child to kindergarten for the first time.  How will they be received?  Will they make friends?  Will the teacher yell at them?  Will they get bad report cards?  Will they, in any way at all, be treated BADLY because if they are, you’ll probably have to beat someone up, which your lawyer won’t like much.        For my part, I’ve been known to end up in the doctor’s office with torn neck muscles, because I carry the whole print run of a new book in my teeth, emotionally speaking.       Well. Oh well.  In spite of that, it might surprise you to learn that there’s a positive side to my neurosis.  I’ll explain.       At some point in the writing process, all writers hit a moment when they feel like an absolute fool  (see last week’s post: The Fools of April).  When they believe, realistically or not, that what they’re writing is just smelly awful cruddy fetid stuff at the bottom of old meatloaf in the back of the refrigerator.  When they’re sure that they don’t have a clue what they’re doing, and should be shot before they write again. When that moment comes, many people stop writing, and call it ‘writer’s block.‘      That’s never happened to me, not because I’m a better writer, or because I’m less insecure, but because of the timing of that moment for me.     I am truly blessed, because the imps of insecurity don’t arrive for me until a) I’ve got an editor reading the thing, or b) It’s just been published.       Really.  Think about how convenient that is.  All my insecurities are willing to hold off until the job is done. Then I just take out the change on the back of my neck, once I’m ‘successful.‘      How do I do this?  Well, lots of trauma in a complex childhood left me with a large capacity for denial, and in this case, it serves me well.  I’ve learned to direct that denial toward my goal (FINISH THE BOOK!  FOR GOD’S SAKE, JUST FINISH THE BOOK!), and I’ve established a bargain between my conscious and subconscious mind to let me have what I want before I fall apart.  As a result, when I’m writing, my emotional eye isn’t on what’s wrong with me, but on love of the job at hand, which I get done.  After it’s done I can collapse into the ganglionic goo of insecurity.       If you’re a writer reading this - or if you’re someone engaged in another high risk activity like falling in love, or trying to change your corner of the world for the better in any way - I highly recommend nurturing that kind of timing. You can’t help but be insecure, because you’re human, but you can learn to delay the insecurities just a little while.  Now a little bit more.  Keep writing. Keep sending work out.  Keep loving.  Keep making the world better.  Now a little bit more.      Time enough, and valium enough, to be a wreck when the job is done. Mitch Has Also Known Fear    Come to think of it, the job of rescuing Eagle Mitch took a lot of that kind of thinking. So do all really good and difficult ventures.  And if you didn’t have a traumatic childhood to teach you the terms of denial, that just means you get to work out your own terms now.  On your time.  At your convenience.
    If you need some inspiration to get through your own impossible task, Saving Eagle Mitch is available at SUNY Press , and amazon.com.   You’ll find out about my other books at wildreads.com

ARTICHOKE SOUP FOR NEUROTICS EVERYWHERE
This artichoke soup was a surprise to me, because it had the creamy goodness necessary to qualify as comfort food, and a brightness that brings light to the angst ridden soul.  It’s familiar enough and strange enough to help you negotiate your insecurities, when you find you’re off your own known emotional map.  
1 can of quartered artichokes, or a package of frozen artichokesabout 5 cups chicken or vegetable broth1/2 cup heavy creama few grates of nutmeg1 cup frozen spinach1 clove garlic, crushed like an enemyabout a tablespoon of chopped fresh parsleySalt and pepper to taste
   If you like, you can add these yummy little polpettina to the soup when it’s done:
CUTE DUMPLINGS
1/2 cup freshly grated parmesan cheese1/2 chup freshly grated pecorino romano cheese1/2 cup dry bread cups1 clove garlic, pressed like a lawsuit through a garlic press1 tablespoon fine chopped fresh parsley2 eggs, lightly beatensalt and pepper to taste The Taste of Comfort

For the soup:
Put the artichokes, parsley, nutmeg, garlic and seasoning in a pot on the stove at medium heat and get it all warm and cozy, bringing it to a simmer and letting it simmer for about five minutes. 
Puree it in a food processor and return to the pot, on the stove, going back to warm and cozy.   Add the spinach, and if you like you can add some mint, too, because you know the rule:  PLAY WITH YOUR FOOD!  
Add the heavy cream, and adjust seasoning.  Turn the heat off, or keep it at low low simmer.  NO MORE BOILING!   
The cute dumplings:


In a bowl big enough to wash your pet bunny, combine the cheeses, the bread crumbs, the eggs and parsley and garlic and seasoning. Mix until you have a soft dough.   
Get your hands wet, and roll the mixture into miniature meatballs (about 1/2 inch)  Ask them to sit nicely on a baking sheet rubbed with olive oil, in the refrigerator for at 30 minutes.  They can be left alone overnight if you like.  They won’t bother the leftovers.
When you’re ready to cook them, get a pot of salted water on the stove and set it on high until it’s boiling, then reduce it to a simmer.  Drop the meatballs into the pot one at a time, saying a little blessing over each one  (Oh, polpettina, may you be tasty, may you be soft and light!)  They’ll sink, and rise, just like the emotions of a writer with a new book out.  Cook them about 5 minutes, then remove them, and add them to the artichoke soup.  
Bella!  Bella!