“Things Every Southern Woman Should Know How to Make”

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Alice clicked on the headline, mildly curious about what yet another stranger thought should be in her kitchen repertoire. Pictures of China plates mounded with crispy fried chicken, greens, cobbler, and a pile of biscuits a mile high flooded the screen, all set off with a pitcher of sweet tea beaded with condensation. The table was set; an apron draped off to the side next to a box labeled “Gramma’s Recipes” in fine calligraphy. She closed the browser and put away her tablet. She was born a Georgia peach, but she couldn’t make a cobbler to save her life. Did that mean she wasn’t southern? Or maybe just not “Southern.” For Alice, there was no recipe box full of family traditions. Her younger years were filled with rental homes in different states and her father’s voice coaxing her toward a text book rather than a cookbook. Metalworking and fabrication held more interest than learning to flambé or sauté. Did it make her less of a woman that her cooking skills consisted of fresh salads
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Rewriting: A Pleasant Surprise


Rewriting.

I thought it would be a nightmare. Something akin to ripping my skin off. How would I possibly tear apart something I had created, something that had made my heart swell with joy once I reached the final word?

No way. I can’t destroy my precious story. Rewrite? Never.

I’m doing it now.

Driving home from work one day, a brilliant stroke of inspiration smacked me in the brain. It was undeniable, insistent. Though I hated the idea of majorly changing anything, the urge persisted. And since computers make it so easy to create a new file, I pushed my fear aside and surrendered. (Save As is my friend.)

It started as a simplification of the beginning where I finally had to admit that there was too much going on. Then, I had another thought. Wouldn’t my villain be much more interesting if…? And then another idea that made a scene work much more emotionally than it had originally.

Slowly, I’ve realized that rewriting isn’t tearing my story apart. It’s metamorphosis or evolution. It’s growth, a honed blade. The changes make my story stronger, sharper. I’m falling in love with characters all over again, and more deeply. Do I remove things? Yes. Do I add? Yes.

Am I loving it? Surprisingly so.

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