I spent the day yesterday at a course on writing for promotional communications. It was fascinating, lead by a guy who was incredibly passionate about his work. The entire day had this electric pulse to it, an energized current that ran through all of us as we brainstormed, exchanged notes and critiqued each other’s writing samples.
I’ve always liked writing copy, doing ads and working with marketing pros. The pace is just like it was in the class—lively, creative, and intense. It’s all about The Sell--if your text doesn’t sell, fuhgeddaboutit. Hang up your pen and go write correspondence or something.
That’s what I like about wine and food writing. It’s intense, it’s current, it’s about engaging the reader and making them want more. And it’s delicious. When you're drooling over a description of pan-seared Quebec foie gras with a fig compote and Riesling reduction, the writer's done a good job of getting your attention, getting you interested and convincing you that you should -- nay, you must -- come eat at Chez Nous, call right now, is there any question of going anywhere else?
There's nothing more enjoyable than reading a well-written article about exquisite food ... well, unless you're actually eating the food. And then writing about it afterwards. And getting paid for it. That's a pretty good deal, too.
This morning, I got to edit a piece about cooking and dining trends for 2008. It gave me such a thrill to savour the words, to rework, stir and polish the text until it achieved perfect balance. It was like being given the very best and freshest ingredients and asked to make something gourmet. Or standing at the pass station of a famous restaurant, bridging the gap between the kitchen and the customer. I take the words from the chef, plate them just so, and deliver them to hungry readers. When the ooohs and aahhhs come floating back from the front of the house, both Chef and I can take a bow. Our work here is done.
That said … anyone need a culinary editor??