About ten years ago we had a party for Paul's parents' 40th anniversary. I offered to make the cake. I had decorated plenty of cakes before this but never a tiered wedding-style cake, complete with pillars and other frou-frou.
So for hours and hours I worked on this cake, my nose right down beside it, my arms getting tense and sore. I piped white shells around the top and droopy swags on the sides and what looked like fancy icing pillars.
The longer it went, the more mistakes I made. Aacckk! the icing gapped there! This swag dropped further than that one! Oh dear me, I gouged it!
By the time I neared the end I was so discouraged I wondered if we could even use this cake. Finally I finished it, wondering if I would need to run to a bakery to get another one before the party.
And then an amazing thing happened. I stepped back, and suddenly I saw a beautiful cake. All the mistakes seemed to disappear and the whole picture was of an elegant, classy, party-worthy cake.
I mentioned this later to my friend Dana, who used to decorate cakes professionally, and she laughed and said it always happens this way.
Right now I feel like I have my nose right up to the cake again, only this time I am handling not white frosting but endless white papers. I am doing a last proofread of my book before it gets printed. I can't do any major changes, only check for typos and maybe change a sentence here and there. And this time I'm thinking, "Oh dear, this sounds silly! Why did I ever say that? Boring, boring, boring. Why did we put this chapter first--nobody's going to read anything beyond that. (Disgusted sigh)"
I suppose this is normal as well for someone examining every word of the same story for the tenth time. And I am really hoping that the cake effect is true here as well, that when it's all done and I step back for a long-range view, it will turn into something beautiful.
Quote of the Day:
"Your beard is getting hairy."
--Steven, to Matt, who started growing a wiry red beard at Bible school
OH NO! Not a red beard!!!!!!! There is not much worse in life than a red beard, and I'm allowed to say that because I have red-haired brothers.
ReplyDeleteDorcas, okay let me try this again, maugh ein sell veisht deing aup nemma dappa schvint!!!!!!!!!!
Ag
So what's so bad about a red beard???!!! Reminds me of my grandfather. And I like red hair, too
ReplyDeleteOh how I hate red beards! Always have, probably always will. Now I do like red hair however, I better would because it surrounds me. Red beards just don't look nice, at least I have yet to meet one that does. But, enlighten me dear anon, and perhaps I shall change my mind. Nah, probably not.
ReplyDeleteAg
You don't know me, but I admire your way with words. When I read your Ordinary Days, I caught myself thinking--wish I could write like that!
ReplyDeleteYou have no idea how comforting your self-questioning is. I'm in the last stages of tightening a manuscript before submitting it to a faceless editor. Scary. Good to know sometimes it's a matter of perspective and stepping back from the whole thing.