Pie and writing?
I thought about this as I was rolling out for yet another crust. (The crust might be my favorite part.)
At the beginning of the week, I'd envisioned brushing up on my skills, getting better than I've ever been and turning out perfect rounds of dough. Pies as art.
I tried every trick I knew and several I'd just seen on TV, but quite a few of my efforts required a little patching. Or a lot of patching. Sometimes the dough would collapse just as I was putting it into the pie pan. Not the brilliance I'd imagined.
It reminded me how often I expect to be good at something right away—not that I have any evidence to back that up. Pie and writing—I want to be good at both.
And I tend to hope that my poems will be successful right away—say what I want to say, be delicious, get accepted, stuff like that.
When I start to feel disappointed, I should probably make another pie, and remember how much work it takes to get to where I want to go.