Tell us about your favorite childhood meal — the one that was always a treat, that meant “celebration,” or that comforted you and has deep roots in your memory.
Free free to focus on any aspect of the meal, from the food you ate to the people who were there to the event it marked.
Today’s twist: Tell the story in your own distinct voice.
You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.
– Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird
The biggest thing that separates you from every other blogger in the world is your voice. Finding (and being confident in) our voices is one of the biggest challenges in writing, and it’s easy to lose our voices when we’re worried about being liked by everyone, or when we compare ourselves to others.
While it’s true that embracing your voice will mean that not everyone loves you, the people who do will love you a lot. Exhibit A: The Bloggess. Is she the only person who writes about parenting, mental health, and cats? Far from it. Is her style for everyone? Nope. Does she have a huge cadre of loyal readers who are drawn to her unique voice? Definitely.
Write today’s post as if you’re relaying the story to your best friend over a cup of coffee (or glass of wine — your call). Don’t worry if it feels like you ramble a bit, or a four-letter-word sneaks in, or it feels different from what you usually publish. Take a deep breath, tell the story in your own words, and send it out the virtual door.
I loved sausages as a kid, I still do, but my favourite meal was one that my mum made fairly often. I was lucky, my mum could cook really well. I just presumed all mum’s food tasted the same, a myth that was dispelled by going to friend’s for dinner.
She used to cook pork chops with apple and a crumbly topping, I have no idea of the recipe but this was the only time in our family that we were served pork that fell off the bone. I used to love the smell. Dinner and definitely pudding was always ‘wait and see’ in our house, but this one was a dinner I could smell before I saw it. I remember getting really about this meal each and every time we had it.
I need to ask mum for the recipe.