Talkin' with Tex - a guest post...

Hi everyone,
I figured since my guest post on Writer Unboxed was up on Sunday the 11th, it might be overkill for me to do a post here this week as well. So Tex (Arianne Tex Thompson),  author and instructor for the November workshop agreed to do this week's blog. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did . See you next week,  Doc

I learned something last year.

Then I forgot it, so I had to learn it again back in the spring. And again over the summer. And again this week.

And I am pretty dang tired of repeating this grade, so I'm going to write it down and put it here for my own reference, and maybe yours too. Are you ready for the habitual epiphany? Here it is.

Are you ready for me to reveal evidence of my short-lived career as a baker? Because that's here too.

When you've made it your mission to be amazing, you have to amaze so much longer and harder than you ever imagined.

Really. I've been amazing for at least a year now, and pretty good for at least three more before that. And y'all, it is EXHAUSTING.

But exhausting isn't so bad, when you've used yourself up in the spirit of something tremendous. Exhausting is a damn fine feeling, when the world is lining up to compliment you on the awesomeness of your sauce.

For example, you could try NOT inspiring the old "should I eat that or did I?"

And sometimes it isn't, sure. Sometimes the world takes a taste and says, "Needs more salt." That's not what you wanted to hear, but you can work with that. You can add some salt. Maybe sneak in a little MSG. Maybe put the salt in at the beginning of chapter two, rather than the end of chapter ten. The point is, you have constructive criticism, which means you have options.

The real sticker is when you invite the spoon-wielders of the world to take a taste, and they slup and smack and say, "Oh, that's nice!" And then move on along. Or maybe they don't even slup. Maybe they take a glance, a whiff, and walk right on by.

That is a harder thing to handle. You start wondering what's wrong with your recipe. You start thinking that maybe your sauce isn't awesome at all. But how can you fix it? What's missing? You were sure you'd gotten the roux just right this time – have you lost your sense of taste? Are you doomed to a life of floury mediocrity?

Answer: maybe?

The nice thing about sauce is that it gets thicker, more potent, the longer you leave it simmering. Sometimes the ingredients are just right – it only needs time.

Time. Dedication. And a willingness to methodically molest 700 petit-fours into a work of video game art.

But the other thing – and this is the thing that keeps kicking me in the posterity – is that it's not enough to be amazing one time on one day. No, not even if you amaze really, really hard. You have to do it over and over again. You have to go from the last-resort open-on-Thanksgiving-Day hole-in-the-wall to the local favorite, the best little diner in town, the "I'll have my usual" meatloaf-mecca that's one Guy Fieri appearance away from unbearable celebrity. You have to be doing business long enough, and deliver on your menu consistently enough, for people to HAVE a usual.

Consistency, my friends. Sweet, carcinogenic consistency.

And that is a teeth-sucking shame – because it means you can't be amazing one day of the week, and then baseline-average the rest of the time. You can't phone it in when you're tired. We have meatless Monday and casual Friday, but there's no try-hard Tuesday. Every person who walks through your extended-metaphorical doors might be a first-time customer – who's going to turn into a last-time customer if their buttered grits happen to come topped with a pube-garnish.

I'm looking at you, Waffle House.

So that's it. That's the emotional pants-kick I have to give myself every time a moment of greatness evaporates back into that great gray fog of public indifference. You DID do the thing. It WAS amazing. Good job! Now draw a line where that new high-water mark is, and make sure you meet it or beat it from here on forward. Not on the first try. Not 24/7. Not when you need to flip the sign over to Closed and take a day. But every time you open for business – every time you thrust yourself or your work out from between those swinging doors – you better make damn sure it's your best.  The ego of a dedicated awesome-saucier is a delicate thing, and can afford nothing less.

                                                                                  Tex