Tacos, Divorce, and Writing

View of Mexico City.

Last week I had an essay published in Tasteful Rude, a weekly online magazine edited by the one and only Myriam Gurba, author of the amazing memoir, Mean. I submitted the essay after reading Lucy Rodriguez-Hanley’s poem, “Flan Desparramado” in the magazine a few weeks ago. The poem starts, “When Mami was dying, I made a pact with Dominican Jesus, a crucifix I/ bought on the side of the road in La Romana./ I would learn to make flan in exchange for a miracle.” Damn. As a lapsed Catholic, I’ve made my fair share of pacts with Jesus and it was always for something heavy, and almost always life or death. And my pacts always involved food. For two years I gave up meat in hopes that Jesus would help of family member who had cancer. Rodriguez- Hanley’s poem is not about flan but of the miracle of flan. Almost an ex-voto. After reading “Flan Desparramado” I knew that I wanted to send my essay, “Of Tacos y Heartbreak,” to Tasteful Rude. I like Myriam’s work and have enjoyed the essays and poems I’ve read on the online magazine, and so I sent it there. I was happy when it was accepted.

I’d initially written the essay, that tracks the end of my marriage with my and my ex-husband’s search for good tacos, for a big food magazine who had solicited something from me for an issue about tacos that they were running. That version, a condensed much shorter version to fit the needs of the magazine, was rejected. We went through a few rounds and eventually I was told that it wasn’t going to work for the edition. When the edition did come out, full of amazing essays from writers I admire, I realized why. My essay wasn’t about identity it was about tacos and heartbreak. I was bummed because I really liked the essay and it was the first thing I’ve written about my divorce.

Despite talking about certain aspects of my personal life publicly my divorce has always been in the background, never upfront. Even though privately it was the opposite. I was really nervous about putting the piece out there because of it, though I felt it was something I needed to write. Writing isn’t therapy I know but it’s always offered me a way of organizing my thoughts and feelings—a false sense of control. In this case, I’m controlling this narrative, these memories, though I’m sure my ex-husband may have a different narrative and even different memories. That’s true of all stories, of all memories though, right? We all remember them differently because we’re all looking at them from different points of view, and all those points of view are first person. And we all know how un/reliable first person pov is.

The essay is also about tacos and about the way we only know the whole story when it’s over. And even then there is so much we’ll never know or understand. Thanks to those of you who have read it and to those of you who shared that you’re going through it right now, abrazos. Divorce is shitty and hard and messy. Maybe not drama messy always, but definitely emotionally messy. So much mourning, even if it’s a good thing—at least for me. So many tears. Ever had to teach a college composition course the day after your husband has moved out? Do not recommend. 0/5 stars.

Writing the essay also ignited an idea for a food related collection of essays. As if I don’t have enough deadlines that have come and gone. Speaking of…

Turned in a draft of Book One of Martinez Paranormal Services and am working on Book Two. In the first book our adventure takes place in an amusement park and a desert in another realm, and in book two we’re going into the mountains and forest. Sometimes I read sections of the books to my partner and he’s always very concerned for safety and well being of Penelope, Dino, and Brianna, our heroic trio, who must face ghosts, monstrous leeches, vampire witches, and el ropavejero, the rag-and-bone man who collects all the bad children. So if you like books where children are in danger and find out they have magical powers that they have to use to save their community and maybe the world from story creatures gone bad, perhaps you’ll like this series.

Also working on my YA novel, Golden State, about a young woman who has just graduated from high school and discovers she has a brother who lives in northern California. Her best friend gets released from jail and the two of them embark on a road trip through the best damn state in the nation. I may have a bias, though. This one has been tough and I think I’ve just realized that I’ve been trying to tell two different stories. And you know what I say when this happens to me? What words of wisdom I have? “Fuck.” And then I get back to it. Annoyed and irritated with myself, but I get back to it because what else am I supposed to do? Whine? Whining doesn’t get writing done. But of course I do whine to myself, and to my partner, but from my desk. Then I tell myself, “At least you were only 125 pages in.” Ha. Ha. Ha.

I am currently (still) reading Matthew Salesses Craft in the Real World, Reneé Watson’s Ways to Make Sunshine, and Masa: Techniques, Recipes, and Reflections on a Timeless Staple by Jorge Gaviria. What are y’all reading? Any recommendations?

Keep an eye out, in the December newsletter I’ll be including an interview with my friend and incredible printmaker Pável Acevedo. Check out his Instagram page @pavel_acevedo.

Thanks for reading. Abarzos. Ahi despues nos hablamos.

List for the Week

1. I love watching my son grow. He’s teaching me so much about really looking at what’s around us. He sees shapes, animals, stories, in places I’m not even looking.

2. I want my son to be little for a little longer. He’s growing too fast.

3. Vampires and other monsters have infiltrated a lot of my thoughts lately. It’s not a bad thing.

4. The first photo is one I took when leaving Mexico City for home in 2013. I took it on the trip I talk about in my essay. It’s such a sad gray photo, I think it matched my mood at the time. The rest of the photos from that trip seemed to have disappeared from my phone.

5. Can’t stop thinking about all those women and other protestors in Iran. Horrified and afraid for them.

6. Recipe for a lazy person’s cafe de olla in your coffee maker (five cup coffee maker): 3 tbs your favorite coffee. I want to say medium roast, though I use dark roast, too. The zest of one small orange (I like navel) or half a large orange. Cinnamon to taste- 1/2 tsp to 1 tsp. Add sure and milk to taste. Purist to come at me. I know that this is not cafe de olla. But it scratches the itch and makes the kitchen smell amazing.

   

7. Rented Strangers on a Train and hope I get to finish it in the next 24 hours because as a parent I have to watch shit in pieces now. It is frustrating. So far it’s tense.

8. I hate that my parents are getting older.

9. I love watching my partner be a dad. My favorite is walking out into a dance party with Pocoyo or, more than likely, some sort of skeleton YouTube video.

10. There is a new bullet journal on my desk hoping to be filled out for reals this time.