Know Jack #525 Cooking Up a Novel

I’ve been cooking for others since I was thirteen. It helps that I enjoy it. As my children will attest, I’ve come up with some “interesting” combinations of ingredients through the years. Most of those dishes were inspired by whatever ingredients happened to be available. At times my cooking was limited to wild game or barnyard critter. Other times it was government commodities.

When I began writing about Ed Landry, I took an interest in Cajun and Creole cooking. I’ve been through periods of Mediterranean, Mexican, and slow-cooker recipes. Some of my improvs can be classified as comedies. I’m still well known for my spamaghetti. Though I can cook from scratch, I admit to using prepackaged ingredients as a base at times. Masterpiece or stomach-turning failure every single dish was made mine by the things I added or took away.

If you know Jack, you know this post is probably not about cooking. Of course, it’s not, it’s about writing. I’ve drawn inspiration from songs I didn’t write, paintings I didn’t paint, and wisdom I didn’t speak. However, I’ve turned those ingredients into my own works in my own words. In writing as in cooking, I shun artificial ingredients.

I remember the first time I heard food called “organic”. I turned to my son and asked, “Do they mean as opposed to inorganic?” When I hear Artificial Intelligence, I wonder if the opposite is natural intelligence. And if it is, is natural no longer popular with our organic obsessed culture?

There is one person who I enjoy cooking for more than anyone else—me. I like a level of spicey heat that most people avoid. I like ingredients rough chopped. When I make a jambalaya or crawfish pie. I want to see the Creole trinity of onions, celery, and peppers. I also eat strange combinations, like peanut butter and mustard.

When I write, I write for me. The question is not, will it sell, but do I like it? Like the Rick Nelson song says, “You can’t please everyone so, you got to please yourself.” I want the books I read written by an intellect that can deliver emotion that jumps off the page and smacks me in the face. So, when I see ads offering to “write your” book in ninety minutes, I wonder what the buyer is thinking or if they are thinking at all. If you’re going to write, then you write.