I’ve been on a diet lately. Or as we’re supposed to call it, an eating plan, since saying it’s a diet might make us feel deprived as we’re starving ourselves. Six of one, half a dozen of the other, as far as I’m concerned; they both taste the same.
The impetus was a birthday party I went to over the winter, to celebrate the birthday of the lithe and lovely Miss Tasha Alexander. She’s a size four blonde with fairy princess hair. I’m not. There were pictures taken. I called WeightWatchers the next day. So far I’ve lost about 20 lbs – yay, me! – and I’ve got a few more to go.
This post is not actually about me and my weight, though. I only mention it to explain why I’ve been preoccupied with eating lately. Preoccupied enough to start thinking of my writing in terms of food.
I can’t recall exactly how the idea came to me, but at some point I decided that if books were food, mine would be whipped cream.
Other people – my neurotic self tells me – write books that are like intoxicating wine, or fine cheese, or somewhat pedestrian but filling meat’n three. (For those of you not from, or currently residing in, the South, meat’n three is a main dish with three sides. Fried chicken with macaroni & cheese, buttered corn, and mashed potatoes comes to mind, as does chicken fried steak with collard greens, fried okra, and grits. Heavy stuff. Substantial. The kind of food that’ll stick to your ribs and fatten you up. The kind of food I don’t get to eat anymore. But that’s another post.)
Whipped cream, though, is… well, it’s whipped cream, isn’t it? Sweet, kind of tasty, but not really there. There isn’t much to it. No substance. It doesn’t require chewing, or even swallowing. It just kinda melts in your mouth, and that’s it. It’s all in the taste, because once the taste is gone, you’re left with nothing. And I worry that it’s the same thing with my books. You read them, they’re light and frothy, they taste pretty good, but after THE END, what are you left with?
The reason for all this soul-searching, of course, is that my first book is scheduled for release this fall. It’s a cozy: no sex, no violence, not much in the way of action, but it has a compact, small-town setting, a limited cast of characters, and cats. (It’s a cozy; gotta have cats.) Home renovation, homicide, and a hot guy with a low-slung tool belt. Some history, some mystery, some romance, but mostly just sexy banter and young, attractive people doing things that young, attractive people do. It’s a fun read, I think. Light and breezy. A perfect beach book, except for the fact that it comes out in November. But weighty it’s not, and that’s in spite of my having written 10,000 words more than my contract stipulated.
There’s a part of me that would love to write something weighty. Something with actual literary merit. The written equivalent of meat’n three, or at least a really dense chocolate cake. I think about it a lot. (The book, not chocolate cake. Although I think about that, too.) But somehow I can’t seem to pull it off. It doesn’t seem to matter what my intentions are: when I open my (literary) mouth, what comes out sounds like musical comedy instead of opera. My characters aren’t deep, emotional creatures; or if they are, they don’t show that side of themselves to me.
But maybe that’s OK, you know? Maybe I shouldn’t try to be something, or write something, that I’m not. After all, whipped cream is just as necessary as meat’n three, isn’t it? You can’t live on it, true, but a banana split would look pretty sad without it, and what’s (no-fat, no-sugar-added) chocolate pudding without a nice dollop of (light) whipped cream on top? So maybe it’s time that I stood up and said, to myself and everyone else, “This is me. This is who I am and this is what I write. And if you don’t like it, go find yourself some stinky Stilton.”
So what about you? What do you like to eat… um, read? Something heavy and filling like meat’n three? Something guiltily satisfying like New York cheesecake? Or something light and fluffy, like no-cal Jell’o with low-cal whipped cream?
Jennie Bentley is the author of the new series of Do-It-Yourself Home Renovation Mysteries from Berkley Prime C
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Jennie, I feel your pain. I too am on the eating plan, but you have been much more successful than I. $186 for 3 pounds is kind of pricey.
But let’s not talk of food, let’s talk of writing. I too seem to have characters if not cozy, not literary either. I do think that you have to be where you are at a point and as you have described, maybe you are at whipped cream right now?
As reader, I am tending to love my whipped cream books more and more. I guess I read for escape and I’d rather not know of the real monsters that are in the world. I do like a good serial killer thriller however. But only if they are caught in the end.
by Lynn
on August 4th, 2008 at 5:36 am
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I like a varied diet (explains my hips, I suppose.). Sometimes meat and 3. Sometimes gourmet. Sometimes whipped cream/angel food cake. But no matter what, I’m not into fasting.
And there’s always something new to try, thank goodness.
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20 lbs, Jennie? My word girl, pretty soon, when you turn sideways, you’ll just disappear.
By the way, I found 10 of those. 
Okay, so I’m not a whipped cream eater, unless I lick it off… Well, I can’t say in a public forum.
I’m into steaks. Like a well-seasoned medium-rare, well marbled, rib-eye. It was to have the natural juices seared in over a flame as hot as hades.
I’m off to Gibson’s Bar & Restaurant up in Tasha’s neighborhood.
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Good morning, ladies! Thanks for weighing in. Guess I hit on a girly subject, since we’re not hearing from any of the boys today.
Lynn, I like the occasional serial killer, too, as long as it isn’t too gory. Have you tried Stalking Susan by Julie Kramer? Julie is one of my ITW debut author buddies, and her book just came out last month. It’s fun; serial killer, yes, but light and somewhat fluffy otherwise. Not whipped cream, though; more mashed potato, maybe. Or pudding. I picked the killer pretty early, but it didn’t lessen the enjoyment much. And don’t give up on the plan; I lost about fifteen pounds by February, and then nothing more until July. Sometimes it takes time. Still, the price bites!
Judy, yeah, I like a varied diet too; hence the need for the Eating Plan. And I read voraciously, as well. Variedly. It’s just when I write that I seem destined to be a whipped cream kind of girl. Oh, well… one of my idols, Elizabeth Peters, describes her books as ‘fluff’, so I guess I’m in good company. Not sure I’d describe them as fluff, but hey - maybe someone else would say the same thing about me!
by jennieb
on August 4th, 2008 at 7:55 am
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Freddy, my love - sweet of you, but there’s no chance of my disappearing any time soon.
No, we probably shouldn’t have the whipped cream discussion in a public forum. Still, I’m glad to know you enjoy whipped cream on occasion.
Say hi to Tasha if you see her!
by jennieb
on August 4th, 2008 at 7:59 am
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I’m a varied diet person, too - both in reading and eating. (And yes, I’m also on a ‘diet’. Must be something in the air. I’m not on any kind of plan, though. Just counting calories.)
There’s nothing wrong with whipped cream books. Sometimes a person just needs to dive into a book and get away from all the heavy thoughts of the world. Cozies and romances are perfect for that. I can’t imagine if everything was heavy eating and serious reading. Blech.
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Thanks, B.E. No, a world with nothing but heavy books and serious eating doesn’t sound like a great place, actually. Or serious books and heavy eating, either. How’s the calorie counting working for you? I’ve never been able to do that. Unless I did the Atkins thing, but that never lasts long. I’d lose weight, but only until I started eating bread again, and then it was all over. Turns out I need the structure of a ‘plan’. Who knew?
by jennieb
on August 4th, 2008 at 8:33 am
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I’ve almost never been able to stomach/read heavy books (John Steinbeck’s the major exception, but I still haven’t and don’t see myself reading Grapes of Wrath anytime soon). I’ve never made it past the first chapter of Moby Dick - yet I liked Meliville’s short story, The Chimmney. I think most ‘heavy’ books are more useful to pile in your arms and climb stairs, but that’s just my idea. I also am not an opera fan and think musical comedy is most often its own high art form - I mean Cyd Charise and Fred Astaire are way better than Sigfried and Brunhilda any day!
So, yes, whipped cream books are treats to read - that’s a good thing in my world. In eating meat n’ 3, I can generally only do really small portions anyway - substantial, but small books, like The Little Prince. It doesn’t have to be thick to be deep - oh my, that’s supposed to be a philosophical line, not a smutty one, so I blush, but snicker a tiny bit, too. ‘Sorry!
by Kate Hathway
on August 4th, 2008 at 9:30 am
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Excellent point, Kate.
Oh yeah, Fred and Ginger - or for that matter Fred and almost anyone else - is definitely high art. And yes, I’d rather watch them than Wagner. Problem is, part of me feels like I should like Wagner, and I’m uncultured and plebeian if I don’t. And who wants to be uncultured and plebeian? Still, I like Carmen, so I guess I’m not a total loss.
by jennieb
on August 4th, 2008 at 9:43 am
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I like my meat. When I’m in the mood.
But I’m a whipped cream girl always.
Fun post, JennieB.
by Laura
on August 4th, 2008 at 12:22 pm
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Thanks, Laura! How’s the sewing circle book coming?
by jennieb
on August 4th, 2008 at 12:57 pm
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You know, I really wouldn’t worry. The world needs a little bit everything, and that goes for books; there’s nothing wrong with a light and fluffy book. Although I do have a preference for heavy, psychological novels, occasionally I’d rather read something quick and breezy.
Also, I love small-town books with a limited cast of characters. That tends to make for an interesting, character-driven book.
by jainey
on August 4th, 2008 at 8:12 pm
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.. Which reminds me of a book I’m currently reading called “The Hidden Man: A Novel of Suspense” by Anthony Flacco. It’s not a whipped cream book by any means, but it’s a quick and fast-paced book - and very character driven.
I first got hooked on his debut historical fiction book “The Last Nightingale,” and now I’m finishing up the companion to it “The Hidden Man.” I’m a really picky reader, but this guy is just amazing. I find that a lot of books in the mystery/thriller genre nowadays lack the key elements that make up a good read. For example, what happened to all the humor, edginess, and multi-dimensional characters? Perhaps we have a similar opinion on this, since I love good stories with characters I care about.
“The Hidden Man” takes readers back to 1915 San Francisco reborn after the Great Earthquake and Fire. Particularly, I love the complex, flawed characters that make the book shine like a jewel. James Duncan is a famed mesmerist at the pinnacle of his career in the upcoming World’s Fair, and he must work together with equally fascinating Detective Blackburn and Blackburn’s young protégé Shane Nightingale when a fanatic stalker sets out to destroy him. My favorite character is Vignette Nightingale though, who reminds me of a female version of Huckleberry Finn; she’s definitely a character you don’t see often in mystery books these days. I find it more interesting because they must solve a murder that hasn’t even happened yet, based purely on what only the terrified (almost obsessed) intended victim can see. If you like a compelling story and complex characters, this is a book for you. You can check out the reviews and book trailer on his website: AnthonyFlacco.com. Give it a try!
by jainey
on August 4th, 2008 at 8:15 pm
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