WLT (Writing, Lettuce, Tomato)

I got in an argument last week with a good friend and fellow tutor about the proper way to make a sandwich. She insisted the meat go on both slices of bread and the cheese fit neatly in the middle. My way (the right way) consists of all the meat on one slice of bread and the cheese on the other. The tutor – who will remain unnamed – shook her head and laughed.

Now, I’m not saying Taylor’s technique was wrong – I’m sure she’s still more than capable of producing an adequate sandwich. I am, however, saying that (like writing) everyone’s technique is a little bit different.

Those who prefer a rather plain sandwich (like one with just ham and swiss) might lean towards a “short and sweet” style of writing. Others may stack turkey on top of salami on top of pepperoni and thus have a long, drawn-out style of writing like myself. Some may fall somewhere in between while still maintaining their own individual flare. Even more might insist they can’t make a good sandwich to save their lives, but a little push from a friend helps to propel them toward sandwich perfection.

I’ll be honest, friends: not everything works. Something which proves incredibly successful for one person may crash and burn with another. But writing has been and always will be a mess of trial and error. Find out what works for you; find out what doesn’t. Mix mayonnaise with ketchup and slather it all over roast beef and smoked ham – whatever fits for you. If it fits, it ships.

But I’m sure you cool cats know yourselves well enough by now to be able to figure out what works best for you when writing. And I’m equally confident in your individual ability to make a sandwich. Whether you’re simple and follow tradition or fancy and always have to have that weird little tooth pick sticking out of the top of your sandwich, I have no doubt that you’ve put precious time and energy into crafting a sandwich that will continue to satisfy you long after you’ve kissed the structured format of high school writing goodbye.

Regardless of how you slice your meat, food is food. Not one of these methods is unsatisfactory in any way, and in the end, as long as you are happy with your sandwich – and your writing – the extent of the ways and means may prove insignificant compared to the result.

For more stellar commentary on writing and its mysterious ways, or if you just want to talk some more about sandwiches, email me.