Forget Contests – Writing Itself as
a Competition by Debra H. Goldstein
Joel can’t understand my addiction
to cooking shows like Chopped and Top Chef – especially with my well-documented
aversion to the kitchen. He is even more confused at the hours of TV watching I
do when I acknowledge that I could care less what pan, spice or heat any of the
chefs use. I’m impressed with how these cooks take bizarre ingredients and
repurpose them into something enticing.
I acknowledge their plates aren’t
always perfectly composed or that sometimes the meat is underdone or the
ingredients mixed together into something lumpy and unattractive. That doesn’t
matter. What counts, as I repeatedly explain to Joel, is the imagination and
skills the chefs rely on preparing their dishes.
What I don’t share with Joel is that
these shows keep my attention, but not enough that I can’t multi-task while
watching them. I also don’t admit that if it was just one chef demonstrating
what could be made from a mixture of ingredients, I would change the channel. I
love the competitive aspects of Chopped and Top Chef. To win, not only must the
cook personally stretch using ingredients that even a professional has never
seen before, but they have to produce a project that is better than that of
their competitors. Being told to “Please Pack your knives and go” or “You’ve
been Chopped,” means the final plate lacked innovation, style, or contained a
fatal flaw.
In a way, these shows are like the
process of writing. A writer can enter contests or respond to open
This is not a world for those who
are unwilling to work. Even the best wordsmiths toil at the craft. But that is
the fun of the competitive edge of writing – trying to produce a work that not
only is a personal best, but one that stands just a bit ahead of comparable
works.
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