I began this blog with a two-fold purpose: I like to write about business and I like to cook. I thought it would be easy to combine the two, especially if I focused on business at the beginning of each post and then included a recipe at the end. We’re all in business one way or another, and everyone eats, so I thought I could capture both audiences at once.
You may already know the moral of this story, but if not just keep in mind the title for this post is as much a reminder for myself as a lesson for us all.
When I first began this blog, I noticed two things:
- I really enjoyed exploring business and personal achievement. The more I wrote, the more energized I felt.
- I always got bogged down when it came time to find, re-create, and format each recipe and point it back to the business lesson.
I was flying, ideas crackling like bacon in a skillet, and then I would lose my momentum in a heartbeat. Once I realized this I made my first shift, and immediately I felt ten times better. Since February I’ve felt more empowered to write and explore novel ideas, and less compelled to deliver a recipe every time I publish.
But lately I’ve felt a version of the same insecurity creeping in. Sometimes I even felt like I was “forcing it” by including a recipe at the end of a post. Writing was supposed to be fun, but every new recipe felt like a distraction at best and whiplash at worst.
I never intended this to be a food blog. I’ve spent most of my life working with food and I wanted to use this space to create, learn, and explore new horizons. I want to go beyond first appearances to share new insights from all businesses, whether or not they deal with food.
I have updated my About page to reflect my new focus: I enjoy exploring and teaching business concepts far more than I like writing about cooking. When I learn something new about business or personal motivation, sometimes the idea will haunt me for weeks as I consider the best way to share it on these pages. Sometimes, very rarely, a new dish or recipe will take hold of me the same way. But I don’t feel the same need to write about it.
Growing up, I can’t tell you the number of people who tasted something I made and exclaimed, “You should be a chef!” I smiled and nodded, but I never once considered it: I knew what an average day looked like for a chef and I knew that wasn’t the life for me.
Writing about food, even on a very limited scale, falls into the exact same category. I enjoy cooking, but it’s not my career. I love to write, but not about cooking.
Here on these pages I hold my own feet to the fire. Only by straying from the path could I realize the value in staying focused on my core motivation – exploring new business insights through writing. I could only arrive at this understanding by writing each post, finding each recipe, re-reading and deleting and amending and re-reading again and again to make sure my heart was on the page every time, with no hiccups or interruptions along the way.
This cannot be taught, it must be felt. We don’t ‘learn’ something by receiving a gift-wrapped secret. We have to experience it, live it, build it up so that no one else can tear it down.