Can you tell that I still love mangoes, the subject of my essay? My local supermarket stocks succulent Atulfos, similar to the ones my dad adored. (Photo by Owen Rubin.)
You might think that writers who win awards have natural talent and dash off their stories in an afternoon. That’s the stereotype. Yes, a story I wrote called The Meaning of Mangoes won two national awards! But I didn’t dash it off, and it took me forever.
Here’s the path of my mango essay and what I learned:
Sixteen years ago, I wrote a piece about my parents and mangoes. A start-up website published it. It happened because I sat next to a woman during an International Association of Culinary Professionals (IACP) conference, and told her a few stories. The next day she introduced me to her boss, the editor of a food website, who asked if I would write a daily column of personal essays about food.
I said I’d write one weekly. I coudn’t imagine meeting that deadline day after day! One of the stories was about how my immigrant dad imported a crate of mangoes from Asia so we could gorge over them when they ripened. This essay wasn’t really about mangoes. It was about grieving for the past, and how my parents tried to figure out their identity in the new world, through food.
Lesson 1: Write about whatever editors want, but also about what interests you.
That first lesson was a hard one for me. As a journalist, I hid my own story in dozens of features and news stories for decades. It took a big shift for me to write about myself and my family.
Lesson 2: Write the story only you can tell.
Nobody else was writing about their Iraqi-Jewish parents from China.
A few years ago, I joined a writing group and wrote about it here. I wanted to write personal essays again, after a long absence. About a year in, I dug out the old mango piece. I deepened it and polished it, writing a few more drafts. I sold the essay to Lucky Peach, amping up the Asian angle. Then I revised it and sold it to Edible Vancouver, since the piece was also about Vancouver, where I grew up.
Lesson 3: Recycle your work. Food writing doesn’t pay, so you might sell your pieces more than once.
(Actually this didn’t go as smoothly as it sounds. When Lucky Peach didn’t respond to my pitch for two months, I gave up. I revised the piece with a Vancouver angle, and sent it to Edible Vancouver. Within a week, the Lucky Peach editor emailed to say he wanted the piece. And then I had to explain that to the Edible Vancouver editor, who was not happy. But eventually she ran the essay.)
When it came time to apply for annual awards, I couldn’t get up the nerve to submit the essay to the Beard awards. But I did apply to annual awards of IACP, Les Dames D’Escoffier International, and The Association of Food Journalists (AFJ).
I wasn’t even a finalist for the IACP award. But I won the Grand Prize MFK Fisher Award for Excellence in Culinary Writing from Les Dames. I also won Best Food Essay from the AFJ. And the essay will be included in Best Food Writing 2016.
Lesson 4: Apply for awards. It’s the only way to win them.
It’s been a heady time. Soon I have to go to the Dames conference, wear a gown, and give a short speech. It’s sobering that The Meaning of Mangoes was the first personal essay I tried to get published in 15 years. I’ve lost a lot of time. Here’s the final lesson I’ve learned, which resonates particularly:
Lesson 5: Don’t give up. Keep writing.
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(Disclosure: This post contains an affiliate link.)
Again, I say, you are just the coolest. I LOVE this post so much because it shows the underbelly of writing and also highlights your heart and resilience. Awesome on both fronts.
Hah. Thank you but I am terribly uncool. Just trying to keep writing, keep telling stories. So much gets in the way of that.
Congrats on the article and award, I loved everything about your essay and this article! A long time blogger, I actually wrote my first personal essay in July and I was shocked at how hard it was. There was just so much to cut. I now know I should “interview” myself to write before rushing to put it all down on paper.
Emotionally, it’s so much easier to write about a recipe, another person, or a restaurant. In a personal essay, you cannot run away from yourself but you are rewarded with a much deeper connection with your readership than you ever thought possible.
Thanks for sharing how things went with Edible Vancouver after you told them about Lucky Peach. I also have pitched a same story to similar outlets but reading your feedback gives me courage to have the hard conversation if needed.
Thank you, Estelle. I’m surprised that it was hard for you, since blogging uses the same techniques as personal essay. I figure you should be used to writing that way. It sounds like the hard part was cutting. Actually I love that part. For me it’s like a big puzzzle, moving pieces in and out until a form takes plae.
I love what what you said about the emotional part of essay writing. It surprises me about what comes up in these pieces: joy, anger, sadness. I want to communicate these things to readers in a show not tell way. That part is a good challenge.
Re Edible Vancouver, the editor was annoyed and I couldn’t blame her. I had to send her the Lucky Peach contract so we could both be sure we were following it when it was republished.
Wonderful, inspiring story. Thanks for sharing, Dianne!
I really enjoyed The Meaning of Mangoes, I could picture you savoring the mangoes with your whole family. What a priceless memory!
“This essay wasn’t really about mangoes. It was about grieving for the past, and how my parents tried to figure out their identity in the new world, through food.” This sentence describes perfectly how my sister and I feel when we cook our family’s Lebanese-Syrian-Sephardic food. We are just really longing to connect to our family that is spread out all over the world. What better way to do than through food.
Congratulations Dianne! So well-deserved. And it goes to show how sometimes these ideas percolate away for months or years and gather significance and meaning as they do so.
Long time fan. Congratulations!
Thank you thank you for showing that success in food writing (or any writing) doesn’t necessarily happen overnight!
Hah. How long has your career been, Tori? A few decades at least, right? I think we met two decades ago at Weldon Owen.
I read your essay a year or so ago, and I found it so touching and lyrical. It’s something that I tell people about from time to time when the conversation turns to good food writing, or good writing in general. Thank you for sharing the story of its creation (and re-creation) — it’s inspiring! (And by the way, when are you going to enter it for a James Beard award?)
Thank you Marlene. I had to enter it for the year it was published, so the time has passed. You never know what judges will like. As I mentioned, the IACP judges did not like the essay enough to get it into the finals. I have judged for both Beard and IACP and sometimes I am shocked by what my fellow judges pick as the best work in my category. It’s a good thing we are anonymous or there would be a tremendous argument!
You’ve made a great case for writing what you know. When we do that, our source material is always available to us. I’ve recently written an essay about my grandmother (a great home baker who created vegan recipes for my highly allergic sister and cousin) and it was tough to do, mostly because I wanted to properly express my love and admiration for her. When I presented it to the editor with a note about a detail I considered, but didn’t include, she encouraged me to explore that detail. It made all the difference. Often personal essays are worth sharing with editors or another writer. They can find the gaps that you don’t recognize because you know the material so well. And CONGRATS, Dianne, on your awards. Thanks for sharing.
Congrats on your essay, Liz. It’s tricky to write a tribute to a grandmother, I agree. Chris Ying, the editor at Lucky Peach, applied a light hand to the draft I sent and we didn’t really discuss it. I have been very well served by two writing groups, who help me focus my drafts and go deeper. If you want to explore more of this kind of work, I recommend joining one. All the writers in my groups have been previously published, which helps.
I just love your deep honesty when you write about writing. Well done Dianne! And I’m a die hard mango fan. Mangoes HAVE to be like wine and chocolate. So many things going on in one taste!
Thanks Shef. I am still a huge fan. I wish we could get more varieties here in the US. I’m not a fan of haydens. But I had a huge ripe green one recently that was magnificent — don’t know what it was called. My cousin bought it in a Chinese grocery.
I LOVE these lessons and couldn’t agree more. While I have occasionally applied to awards in the past, I have only this year approached the process a bit more systematically. Still, I missed 2 (!) deadlines. In the end, one of my essays in “Simply Ancient Grains” won an award this year, which was exhilarating. And it too was re-written more than any other essay in the book. Great post – thank you, Dianne!
Perhaps you missed the deadlines on purpose? I know I did with Beard. Which has nothing to do with winning, just fear. So you took an essay from your cookbook and rewrote it, which is a brilliant idea. See you in DC. Let’s celebrate together!
What a beautiful story! I am so glad you shared it, as I love to learn… And thanks for the tips – I have so many essays already written, and all I need is a friendly nudge and a bit of gumption:) As always, you are an inspiration! XOXO
Thank you Lana. Yes, gumption is the hard part — to force yourself to get your work out there. Personal essays are hard to get published. There was a little window in Lucky Peach that opened for me, but I haven’t seen many since then.
Love this post and the behind the scenes story of your writing…not to mention your sage advice (pun intended!).
Thank you for sharing so much of yourself and your craft.
Best,
Deborah Dal Fovo
My pleasure Deborah. Thanks for taking the time to comment.
I always enjoy your posts… Very inspiring and informative. I loved reading your personal essays … Congratulations on the award and sale! You should share a photo of your Dad’s little egg device… It would add a charming touch . A beautiful memory.
Hah! Funny you should mention that. The Washington Post editor wanted a photo, but when he asked for it I was in a Cambodian taxi headed to Angkor Wat, so we went without it.
Thank you for sharing this with us. You often hit the nail right on the head when I’m questioning whether or not to continue pursuing certain things. This article was no different. Your insight is always just what I need to hear, and I very much appreciate the “behind the scenes” look at how you came to be such a well-respected and deservedly decorated writer. ” Write the story only you can tell.” I love that. Thank you.
Olivia, I don’t know what the “certain things” are that you want to pursue, but if they’re about writing, I do hope you persue them. Thanks for the kind words.
Great article! Question though, you talk about digging out old pieces and “polishing” them before sending off for consideration. Can you do this with old blog posts? Rework them, edit them? Or are they considered off limits because they’ve been published in a blog? Thanks! Longtime fan…
Thank you Jenee. Re your question, if you substantially rework the blog post, yes, I believe it can have new life as a freelance article. It depends on the piece and what the publication or website wants, of course, but I’m a big fan of recycling.