Sometimes, I feel like I just can’t do it anymore.
I wake up one morning, and I lie in bed without checking my e-mail immediately, like I usually do, because I know that I can’t open one more rejection letter, a long-winded and well-worded “thanks, but no thanks.†I can’t send out one more copy of my screenplay to someone I know is going to throw it directly into the waste bin. I can’t lose one more blog post due to my moody Internet connection.
I start to realize why some writers turn to the drink.
I tell this to the English One, who tells me, jokingly, that I turned to drink years ago.
But in the morning? In my coffee? You tell me. Not yet, but who knows? One more day like this, and it might happen.
You’re young yet. You haven’t been at it that long. I honestly don’t know how anyone carries on that long without some kind of validation. Without one person reading what they write and telling them that it’s not all in vain, that it’s just a matter of time. Because sometimes, I read what I write, and the words blur together, and I just don’t know anymore.
I know, at least, that I’m good at one thing, for sure. And so when the days seem too hard, and I can’t look at one more sentence without wanting to scream, I close my laptop and head to the kitchen, where everything makes sense.
Tomatoes are my comfort food: I love them in any form. And so, when I can’t make a decision, when decisions just seem way too overwhelming, I have them in all forms. Sun-dried, roasted, canned and fresh, tossed together with things that make them right: salt, olive oil, basil, garlic, onions. At least something works, and that makes it seem worth it to finally open my laptop again, to double click yet another word document, to try again.
Because in the end, I know there’s nothing else for me. Like most writers, I don’t do this because I want to. Like a good love, a really good love, I hate writing most of the time, but I can’t stay away: the pull is too strong, the good moments too good to let go for something easy, as tempting as that may be. We’re intrinsically linked, writing and I, and if I were to ever give up on it, I’d be giving up on myself.
Pasta with Four Tomatoes (serves two)
4 fresh on-the-vine tomatoes, vine reserved
3 tsp. olive oil, separated
1 tsp. sugar
salt
5 sun-dried tomatoes, soaked in a half-cup of warm water for about an hour
1 clove garlic, minced
1 onion, chopped
1 425 g. (15-oz.) can whole, peeled tomatoes
175 g. (6 oz.) dried pasta
fresh basil for garnish (optional)
Start by soaking the sun-dried tomatoes in a half-cup of warm water if you have not already done so.
Cut three of the four fresh tomatoes in half. Place, cut side up, in a roasting pan. Sprinkle with 1 tsp. salt, sugar and one tsp. of the olive oil. Roast in a 400 degree oven until the bottoms are browned and caramelized, about 20 minutes. Turn over and roast on the other side until browned, about five minutes.
Meanwhile, in a skillet, heat a second teaspoon of olive oil over medium heat. Add the onion and a pinch of salt. Sauté until the onion is translucent and sweet, 2-3 minutes. Add the garlic and cook until fragrant, about a minute. Add the can of tomatoes and the vine from the fresh tomatoes. Bring to a simmer and then cook over low heat until the tomatoes have broken down, about a half-hour.
Remove the tomato vine and purée the sauce with an immersion blender. Slice the sundried tomatoes into strips, and add them and the soaking water to the sauce. Continue to cook over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until the sauce has reached the desired consistency, about ten minutes.
Meanwhile, heat a pot of salted water and cook the pasta to just under al dente, about six minutes. Reserve some of the starchy water. Add the pasta and the remaining teaspoon of oil to the sauce, adding the starchy water if necessary to make the sauce adhere to the pasta. Cook for one more minute.
To assemble the dish, plate the pasta with sauce and top each plate with three halves of roasted tomatoes and two quarters of the reserved fresh tomato. Garnish with basil if desired.
Don’t be so hard on yourself. You have to keep writing and believe it will all happen. Anything good takes time. It will all be worth it. Stay with it – and keep cooking – the tomatoes and pasta looks great.
Such gorgeous photographs! It was a miserable Michigan winter and your post and pictures made me happy, reminding me that fresh tomatoes will soon be in my grasp. Thank you and keep writing!