Summary

The author of the article learns the importance of patience in both baking bread and writing, realizing that allowing time for development leads to better results.

Abstract

The author recounts their experience of learning to bake bread alongside their husband, a red seal chef, and draws parallels between the process of proofing dough and the necessity of patience in writing. Initially, the author's impatience led to dense, inedible bread and subpar writing submissions. They admit to seeking instant gratification through social media likes and comments, which provided a sense of achievement and visibility but lacked depth and quality. The turning point came when the author joined networks like Medium, engaging with fellow writers, which significantly improved their prose. The author now applies the lesson of patience to their writing process, allowing drafts to 'stew' and mature, much like the successful bread-making technique they eventually mastered.

Opinions

The author believes that patience is crucial in crafting quality work, whether it's artisan bread or well-polished writing.
They acknowledge that their initial impatience resulted in poor outcomes in both baking and writing.
The author values the feedback from literary magazines, which helped them realize the importance of submitting polished work.
They suggest that the instant gratification from social media can be misleading and detrimental to the quality of one's work.
The author appreciates the benefits of engaging with a community of fellow writers, which has enhanced their writing skills.
They equate the process of letting bread dough rise to the process of letting a draft develop, emphasizing the importance of giving ideas time to grow.

Let Your Words Rise: Why Patience is King in Writing

How I learned that instant gratification isn’t everything

Three years ago, my husband and I were in the process of opening a bakery. I had no idea how to bake. Friends of mine had gone as far as to say that I was the worst cook they had ever known.

This sentiment is not ideal when opening a bakery.

Luckily my husband is a red seal chef, and he was willing to take on the task of teaching me. My first lesson was in baking bread. The ingredients were easy. As long as you have flour, water, yeast, and sugar you’re set. It’s the process that’s important when it comes to crafting artisan loaves.

Proofing the dough is key.

This is the practice of allowing the dough to rise, then once doubled in size to punch it down and let it rise again. I couldn’t understand why I had to wait for a second rise. It seemed so tedious, and I was anxious to get to the good part — eating my delicious creation.

So every time, I would skip the second rise and get the right to shaping and cooking the loaves.

And, every single time, my bread would fall in the oven and become a flattened mess of a dense bread-brick. “You don’t have enough patience for this!” My husband Jamie would tease me.

And it was true. I didn’t have any patience. Not for bread and not in my writing career either.

There have been countless times I’ve submitted articles to literary magazines only to get a reply a month later that said, “Not a completed draft. Make sure you send your most polished work, please.” Incredulous, I’d look back on the article to find incomplete thoughts and sloppy run-on sentences. My impatience had gotten the better of me once again.

The problem is that I like instant gratification.

Also, I probably have higher expectations of myself than I should. I think that whipping up an article in half an hour and tossing it to a publisher is a sure thing. This is due to the one or two times in my career where this strategy has worked. Sometimes good luck can be your worst enemy when it comes to crafting quality stuff.

I’ve had good luck over the past few years with blogging and Facebook, which is why, for the longest time, I chose not to stray from these platforms. I’ve grown a nice following and revel in the instant gratification I get from sharing my writing on my social media channels.

Why the instant gratification of social media is so rewarding:

1) We feel that we have achieved something. Despite the quality of our project, if someone “likes or positively comments” on our work, even when we know it isn’t our best, it feels as though we’ve accomplished something.

2) Someone is reading our work. Sometimes when submitting to literary journals, our article will sit in a desktop file for months on end. We want eyes on our writing, and it’s painful to know it’s sitting idle in some editor’s TBR pile.

3) The rush of viral. Nowadays, the dream is to go viral. To write an article that makes the internet rounds is the ultimate win.

For a long time, I wrote for likes.

I wanted the satisfaction of seeing those little blue thumbs-up twinkling on my computer screen. Was the work I was putting out quality? Nope. Did it add value to my readers? Maybe marginally with a few laughs here and there, but it certainly wasn’t my best. It didn’t provide anything more profound than a baseline story that was void of insight.

It wasn’t until recently that I decided to move out of my comfort zone and join networks like Medium, where I can connect with fellow writers. I am grateful that I took the leap to pursue a broader education in this field of work.

Merely reading and talking shop with fellow writers has made a world of difference in my prose. Why hadn’t I done this sooner?

Now, I can look back on my previous writing, not with shame, but with an understanding of how a bit of added value, humour, and insight could have made these articles much better.

The trick to knowing if your bread dough is ready is to poke the dough with your finger. If it bounces back to its original shape quickly, you know that it has risen enough.

Eventually, I learned how to wait for the bread to double proof. I set aside my impatience and gave it the time it deserved. My loaves came out of the oven, fluffy and light.

I’m still learning how to wait for my writing, how to let it grow and become better over time. I now write my outlines and rough drafts as soon as I wake up in the morning (a bright and early 4:30 AM thanks to our new puppy, who is a morning person). Then I let the work stew for a while. I take the dog for a walk, shower, get my kids working on their school work. Maybe some gardening before lunch and bread baking if we are running low.

Then, once my eyes are fresh again, once I’ve allowed the ideas to grow a bit, I’ll revisit the draft. I press the words around and see if my thoughts bounce back to form a fully realized concept.

It’s not always perfect. Sometimes I have to knead the work, mix up my imagery, and roll it out to form new ideas. But I no longer get anxious for that instant gratification.

I have come to realize that the best things, the graceful flow of words written well, require a certain kind of patience.