Not Like Carrie Bradshaw: Day One

I have no idea how much a weekly sex columnist is paid. But apparently, on Sex in the City, it’s enough to afford a great one-bedroom apartment on the Upper East Side. There also seems to be plenty of money left-over for fabulous designer clothes and shoes, unlimited taxi rides, and constant nights out on the town drinking top shelf martinis and eating at the finest restaurants.

In real-life, Carrie would undoubtedly have to hold down a second job to afford such niceties. Maybe a job like mine---waiting tables in Midtown Manhattan.

That’s where I was last night. And that’s why I didn’t get home till almost two o’clock in the morning.

Which is why I slept till almost noon today.

Now, my favorite thing to do on a Sunday morning/early afternoon is to make a great pot of coffee and read the Sunday New York Times in my pajamas.

Unfortunately, I don’t get the New York Times delivered. A little luxury I just can’t afford yet. However, some Sunday mornings I DO throw on my sweatpants and head down to the corner to grab a copy of the ten-pound weekly paper at the corner deli. Then I come back and have my coffee and all is right with the world. Well, not the world in the paper---but in my little world.

However, this Sunday there just wasn’t time. No lolling around today.

I quickly brewed up a pot of coffee, turned on NY1 to get a few minutes of the local news and weather report, and got myself dressed.

As I was wrestling with shirt choices that would be appropriate for today’s weather, a commercial came on for the new James Patterson novel. I’ve seen commercials for his novels before---and always find them odd.

Now, honestly, I haven’t read any of his books. But, according to a Wikipedia search, he’s a popular thriller writer who’s sold over 150 million books worldwide.

That’s quite an accomplishment. Kudos.

But commercials for a novel?

Well, I guess you can have commercials for anything, really. After all, the whole idea of a commercial is simply to make consumers aware of your product, get an idea what it’s all about, and present it in the most enlightening and/or memorable way possible.
It’s all about sales. And no, I’m not one of those struggling writers who constantly lament the crass commercialization of the business. For me, anything that gets people reading is super-fantastic. And any writer who is able to make a living off their talents is not to be sneezed at.

But books are a different animal altogether than a laundry detergent, snack food or even the newest prescription drug. Their commercials tell you what their product is going to do for you and how it’s going to make you feel.

In a nutshell: Buy this and you will be happy.

Okay, maybe if the book is to be found in the self-help aisle at your local Barnes & Noble… But a novel?

Sure, most new films, plays and even some CDs have commercials announcing their impending arrival. But these mediums are visual, aural and (let’s face it) a whole lot sexier than a novel. All James Patterson is left with is the power of the written word and a snazzy book cover. It just seems odd.

But the most disturbing thing for me is the ending of the commercial when the announcer declares that the novel is by James Patterson. And then repeats, “Yes. James Patterson.”

As if you’re supposed to go, “Wow! James Patterson! He must be some badass motherfucker.”

Well, I didn’t say that. But that’s what the stern, forceful, yet soothing announcer seems to expect to hear back at the TV.

There’s just something cocky about it. “James Patterson. Yes. James Patterson.”

I kinda don’t like James Patterson now. A little too Bond-James Bond for me.

As I got myself dressed and stewed over my new James Patterson issues, I tried to figure out what I was going to do with my day. Sure, I was going to write. That was the plan. But I needed to get out of the house on this beautiful Spring day. And frankly, sometimes I don’t write so well at home. Too many distractions. If you’re not really in the mood or under a serious deadline---writing at home can sometimes be pretty unproductive.

Most writers will admit to being distracted by pretty much anything. Personally, I have been known to entirely re-organize my closet to avoid sitting down to the computer.

The trick is: Know thyself. I knew the gorgeous day would be too enticing to hold me indoors and decided to make a trip to Chinatown.

First of all, before you think I was just doing this to distract myself in a completely different way---think again.

The project I’m working on is set in Manhattan and involves food. That’s all I will say. Most writers are notoriously secretive about their current projects. Some are downright superstitious about it---avoiding any mention of the work-in-progress at all except to say it’s being worked on.

There’s a reason for this. First of all, it’s bad form. Because anyone who’s really gotten down and dirty in the writing trenches KNOWS that no one is interested in hearing about their latest opus. Sure, if you have an editor or a publisher or an overly interested significant other---well, you might get some takers. Or if you’re involved in a writer’s group---well, there you go. Small groups of writers can and will sit in bars, cafes and local diners swapping tales of woe over their inability to get the mother character to gel, their frustration over the middle of Act Two or their perpetual drive to up-the-stakes in the subplot.

But your average co-worker or friend doesn’t care. In fact, if you ARE one of those writers who still persists in talking up your progress with your friends and co-workers---trust me, they are BORED! I will say this one time and one time only, “THEY DON’T CARE!”

It’s not that they don’t care about YOU. They do. But, let me put it this way---Have you ever been in a conversation with a small child who insists on telling you every detail about all the characters in their favorite Super Hero cartoon? Which cartoon animal has this superpower and which figurine they have mimics that superpower? Okay, that’s you. You’re that chatty, stuttering, “And then… And then…” little kid. So shut up, find yourself a writer’s group to moan to and get back to work.

The other reason writers hesitate talking about their current project is due to a little something I like to call “The Curse of Talking About It.” While it may sound superstitious, most writers realize that if you talk about your current project too much---well, you mentally start to think you’ve already written it. And therein lies The Curse. Talked-about projects seldom reach the final stage. So most of us keep our mouths shut.

I only mention my basic outline (Manhattan and Food) because I think it’s important for you to know that I was NOT wasting time. Oh no. This was research.

And research is a pretty big part of the writing game. So is thinking. Just thinking about it. Writers will often spend entire days (and sometimes weeks) just THINKING about what they’re going to write.

This is not time-wasting. This is actually an integral part of the process. We need to get a handle on our characters, our setting, our storyline, the general tone of the piece---in short, we need to figure out what we’re going to write.

So, if you ever see a writer in a café just staring out the window---trust me, he’s working hard.

Of course, the danger there is that you think too much and never get anything on paper. Once, in a writer’s group in Minneapolis, a fellow-writer asked the $10,000 Question about that integral gestation process, “So, when does it cease to be productive and start to become lazy?”

We all looked at each other. Silence. The silence of a roomful of Buddhists.

And then, one writer nodded his head in understanding and simply uttered, “When you feel guilty about it.”

We all understood.

However, this project is spanking new and today was really only the second day in my gestation process---and I’m not a fruit fly, for heaven’s sake. I could definitely allow myself the luxury of a little thinking time.

And I would have plenty of time to think on the A Train downtown. Yes---I got a lot done on that train. Made a few minor decisions and took down about half a page of notes.

And a trip to Chinatown would enable me to do three things at once---get out and enjoy the day, get some writing done and buy some groceries for the week.

I was also curious to see how much Chinatown had changed since the recent NYPD busts for knock-off handbags.

The difference was quickly apparent.

First, I immediately discovered that I was not accosted every ten feet by a young kid offering to show me handbags. Second, I noticed a few storefronts shuttered and closed. Then, a few blocks later, I saw what must have been the epicenter of the Counterfeit Empire---almost an entire block of shops shuttered up with huge red notices in both English and Chinese announcing the official NYPD Lockdown.

I stopped to take a picture with my cell phone.



Then I began to notice something completely different---the character of Chinatown had perceptibly changed. It was now---well, more Chinese.

Let’s face it---the majority of people BUYING those knock-off handbags were tourists looking for a cheap handbag to fool their friends into thinking they were rich. With the tourists and their something-for-nothing mentality out of the way, many of the shops had gone back to catering to the locals by selling---you guessed it---Chinese goods!

Not that there wasn’t always a plethora of Chinese teas, fruits, vegetables, cookware and decorative items available. But now you could actually SEE them! Generally, the open shops put their cheap gold jewelry, sunglasses, handbags and NYC souvenirs right out front. You had to actually go inside and crawl thru the joint to find some tea and Oyster Sauce.

But no more! I liked this new Chinatown.

For the next hour, I perused the shops, picking up some fruits and vegetables from the outdoor stands along the way.



My favorite fruit and vegetable stand purchase today was this huge batch of these Asian green beans I love to cook with. About three pounds of these lovelies for $4. I’ll be eating them with everything all week.

I also picked up a small head of Napa cabbage and a bag of baby bok choy. A few moths ago, I purchased a great single-handle non-stick Wok for about $10 and always love when I can whip up a delicious stir-fry with fresh Asian ingredients.

And then I went to my Chinese Goods Mecca---The New Kam Man Market on Canal Street.

New Kam Man is my go-to place for all flavors Chinese. I grabbed a basket and began picking up a few things for my kitchen.

I like to think of it as my little secret shop---but, honestly---all the locals know about it. The place is always packed with a 50-50 ratio of Americans to Chinese. And, while New Kam Man doesn’t sell fresh produce---they have everything in the way of sauces, noodles, teas, dried goods and a fantastic array of cookware and serving dishes. I love it here!

Today I filled my basket with quite a few things---a jar of Hoisin Sauce (which is kind of like a Chinese Bar-B-Que sauce that’s SO delicious on pretty much anything), a small bottle of Sesame Oil, some dried figs, a package of Spring Roll Rice Paper, a bag of rice noodles (individually packed in single-serving portions inside---great for the single gal), a tin of Woo Loong Tea, two packages of extra firm tofu, and a small jar of Blooming Tea. Blooming Tea is something I’ve always wanted to try. It’s basically a dried flower bud that opens up as it steeps in hot water.

I also found a cute little ceramic bowl that I decided would be perfect for holding my Kosher Salt. My recent addiction to the Food Network has convinced me that Kosher Salt is The Best. And I love how the TV Chefs always have a small bowl full of Kosher Salt right next to their stove.

And, due to my trip to Chinatown today---I would now be able to play TV Chef in my very own kitchen for the mere cost of $1.95.

The total cost of my Sunday groceries---$30. Satisfaction---priceless.

I grabbed a cup of tea at a nearby bakery and headed off to the park nearby to regurgitate on paper some of my latest thoughts.

The park was full of Chinese. And a local Chinese octet was set up to play an outdoor concert. The music began with a clang of cymbals. One! Two! Three!

It suddenly seemed to me that every musical composition, theatre piece, and live show should begin this way. As if, amongst all the other ancient Chinese inventions, they had invented a way of announcing 4000 years ago that the audience should turn off their cell phones and pagers.

It was a great (yet dissonant) concert. And I didn’t understand a word. Sometimes, when I’m writing, I like a bit of white noise behind me. Anything in English would have been too distracting. And silence is sometimes deadly. I spent another hour in the park observing, thinking and taking notes.

Back at home, I cooked up a delicious stir fry with chicken, green beans, baby bok choy, mushrooms and Hoisin Sauce. I also tried my hand at Summer Rolls for the first time and the whole meal was delicious.

Of course, I should have gotten down to the writing after that. But I was too intrigued by my new Blooming Tea. And after a great Chinese dinner---well, you have to have a cup of tea.

I boiled a pot of hot water and popped the tea bud into my cup. A few moments later, the bud started to open. It was an amazing thing to see! The little green fingers of the bud slowly loosened themselves from the round ball. I sat at my kitchen table, fascinated by the process of this bud opening up. I couldn’t move. And when the bud opened up further to reveal a beautiful lemony-orange flower inside---I was transfixed. This was the most beautiful cup of tea I’d ever seen!


I must have sat there for five full minutes watching a bud open.

And then I felt guilty.

It was time to get back to work. I grabbed my beautiful cup of tea and sat down at the computer.

But, with a cup of Blooming Tea, the blank screen didn’t seem so bad, after all.