I know I said I've always found writing nonfiction a lot easier than writing fiction, and that's true ... but, having said that, I do find it a tremendous challenge to make my "journalistic" nonfiction vivid and interesting, to not let it become this-fact-and-then-this-fact-and-then-that-fact, da-dum da-dum da-dum. I received the following right-on-target comment from one of the trusted readers to whom I sent my Chile Pepper article:

I know you cannot expand, but I'd consider being more descriptive on the flavor of cane syrup and the original cake itself ... so people can get an idea of what it is and where you've taken it with your recipe. I'd get more descriptive in general on the foods mentioned. Make people crave the desserts; make them hungry.

My response:

See, this is why I'm deeply unsure that I'm cut out for nonfiction food writing. I don't know how to do this, and so I find myself resorting to tell-it-don't-show-it words like "delicious" and "perfect." In the Liquor books I could do it by way of the characters' reactions to the food, but I really don't want to insert myself into this article; that's fine for geniuses like M.F.K. Fisher but reads as unprofessional and so-whattish to me when most food writers do it. Even with fiction, I was always surprised when readers said the novels made them hungry, because I was far more interested in the work that went into making the food than I was in the food itself, and I enjoyed describing the bad food a lot more than the good.

Cane syrup tastes like cane syrup. Where are the words that will make it spread its dark richness over a reader's tongue? As well as being difficult, describing flavors is also terribly subjective: my friend advises me to mention that syrup cake tastes similar to gingerbread, but I find that to be only very slightly true. To me, gingerbread is much drier and less complex in flavor than gateau de sirop. I don't think a good Cajun syrup cake tastes like anything else in the world, but what the hell does that tell Chile Pepper readers?

I'm not even going to get started on the difficulties of doing all this in 1200 words or less. (In reality, I think my draft is already closer to 1300 -- eek.)

I don't mean to bitch. I'm grateful as hell to have this assignment, even more grateful that I was able to complete a draft, and most grateful of all to have honest, thoughtful input from an experienced food writer. Despite my current angst, it does feel good to be talking about writing again.

Dennis Cooper did a really, really nice blog piece about me and my work yesterday. I can't figure out how to isolate a single entry on his blog, so you'll need to scroll down past a bunch of pictures of handsome young men that he posted today. The ones currently above my entry are all work-safe, but he updates frequently and posts quite a bit of stuff that isn't, so proceed with caution if you need to worry about that sort of thing.

We had to take William for an emergency vet appointment today because he hasn't been eating well for a couple of days and started vomiting this morning. The doctor says the mass in his intestines has grown a lot bigger and has probably spread to other organs. In his opinion, it's not worth putting William through the stress of another surgery for what would buy him, at most, a couple more weeks. The mass is making him unable to process much of his food, and he'll soon begin to feel hungry all the time, then actually begin to starve. Obviously, we are not going to let this happen. The hell of it is, he still seems energetic, affectionate, and very much alive. He's licking his stomach a lot, though, as if something in there hurts him. We have to watch him carefully over the next couple of days, but it's unlikely to be more than a week now until ... until we have to be in that room, holding him for the last time. Probably less than a week. Maybe as soon as Thursday, a year to the day after Nathan died. I'm not ready. I will never be ready, but I had hoped for more time. I can't believe I am able to write so coherently about this. I had my hysterics earlier and will likely have more, but right now I'm numb.

For the rest of my life, I will hate the week of August 29, motherfucking filthy evil week.

Chris took this picture of me and William yesterday, while I was sleeping off my tooth extraction. I'm very glad he did.

The vet said there was a slim chance that William's steroid shot today could still help him. Since he had it, he's seemed much more interested in his food (he's had three small servings) and hasn't thrown it up. If everybody sends good thoughts, maybe ...

Also, I forgot to point out what I think is my very favorite piece of the various stuff Dennis Cooper collected about me.