The Working Writer

I arrived at the office expectant today. The past several months have been focused on crisis control and keeping a volatile and demanding client happy. The company basically depended on it. All of this anxiety was a far cry from my original purpose at this office - to write.

Being hired as a writer was a dream come true for me. It marked my first step to feeling validated as having talent. There have been so many projects and skills I've tried a hand at, excelled slightly and quickly let go for the next fleeting interest. Writing, however, has always been an arching theme in my life. It was the goal I had been afraid to set for myself, because failure at this one would really hurt.

It wasn't until I had spent a few months at this company working as writer, event coordinator, project manager and several other tasks as they came across my desk, that I finally made the decision. I was going to be a great writer some day. I even made the choice to tell a few people, all of whom were very supportive. Goals kept secret almost never come to fruition.

Shortly after that day, my career life exploded. I started working 50 to 60 hours a week, plenty of weekends and was attached to my Blackberry. I was presented with a new problem every day.Once we finally began to feel as if the world was settling, another meteor would hit. There was always an email to send, a phone call to make, a client to pacify, a meeting to have or a team to coordinate. Things were constantly changing. Nothing was stable. Nothing was calm. I hadn't written in months.

Today was supposed to be different. After a recent reorganization of the company many of us realized we weren't in the right place. Our skills were being applied to the wrong sectors. Talent was going to waste sitting in meetings. A new team was created; one that would focus on creativity, energetic planning and the future. Today was my first day being a writer again.

Most previous attempts at writing ended with crises, meetings and phone calls. I painstakingly blocked off my calendar, sent notices to coworkers of my absence at meetings and rushed to accomplish assignments early. I was merely waiting for some small amount of basic information to fuel my pen. Expectant, I opened the long-awaited email the moment it flashed across the bottom of my screen.

Inside were five prepared documents already attached and the note, "Let's use these."

They were months old and stale. They were too long. They held plenty of gold, but it was muddled by another writer's hand for me. They could have been the best, most expertly written documents in the history of the company, but I would not have been satisfied. This project was no longer mine. I was banished, again, to the problematic world of placating people. For me, this was a new kind of writer's block. I spent the rest of the day wallowing in emails about projects gone unfinished, as others were able to revisit the creative worlds they loved.

I am not as good a writer as I should be. What I need is practice and the simple truth is that I feel drained by the time I leave the office. I had hoped to accomplish two goals at once - exercise my skills as a writer and further my career.

My career is blossoming. My dream is falling behind.

The Specialist

E and I were having a conversation the other day after watching one of the many traveling chef shows that feeds our obsession. It was probably No Reservations with Monsieur Bourdain or Bizarre Foods with Andrew Zimmern. Or maybe something else altogether.

We started thinking about all these wonderful countries we'd love to visit - France, Spain, Italy - and all their beautiful markets. What is it about America that makes us shun the idea of a dedicated butcher, produce vendor, cheese vendor and the like?  It seems almost rare about us as a country that we value one-stop-shopping over quality and mastery. Actually, this is even more visible in our one-stop-eating. Every restaurant is expected to satisfy every possible taste. You have to keep happy the guy who wants fish, the person who wants meat, the vegetarian, picky eaters, children, those who want white meat only and the pasta eaters all in one place. Why can't a place just serve one thing and be great at it? Why not go to a soup shop and know that what you're getting is just that - soup! However, it will be the best soup you've ever had.

Instead of cultivating specialists in food that transcend the normal boundaries of a certain cuisine because they know it inside and out, we end up being mediocre at a bunch of things. It's like I've said about myself, actually. I'm good at many things. I am not great at any one thing. I feel like I've settled.

Have we settled as a country?

I know there are plenty of places all over the U.S. that break this mold I'm talking about, but it has taken some time. A hundred years ago, we would have had all specialists. As the superstore took over, it's as if we became so excited that it was all we could think about. Every place had to offer everything. This has resulted in homogenized stores and restaurants. So many chains are all alike... because they're all trying to do the exact same thing, that "thing" being everything.

This is why we have Publix and no butcher and more Applebees/Friday's/Chili's chains instead of popular restaurants that do just one thing exceptionally well. I can name way more big-box and super stores than any specialty stores I visit on a daily basis (and I'm not talking about the liquor store).

How about you?

Farmer's markets, the "eat local" movement, the organic movement, etc. have really started to make a dent. I just feel like we would've been better off on a culinary basis if we had never gone down this road to begin with. I'm no idiot. I see the benefits of low-cost grocers that can demand high volume and thousands of product. I'm just wondering why there isn't a market with generational butchers and bakers. Where is the guy whose family has been making the best pasta for the past 100 years? Why doesn't he set up shop next to a woman who raises and butchers the best beef? Why do I only see these people once a week in a special farmer's market plenty of people have to drive an hour for if I'm lucky?

Even more troublesome is that I've started to see plenty of farmer's markets that feature huge booths that are obviously filled with a smorgasbord of grocery store product! Some don't even bother to remove the packaging. I feel cheated when I see it. Too many markets I've seen are just one fish or meat person selling protein that comes from the other side of the U.S., one of these pre-packaged produce stalls, and 3-4 craft tents. Where is the farmer?

Where is the expert in each community? Where is the specialist? Where is the master?