I'm Thankful for ... My Writing Life

"You just scoop it back into the pan. Remember, you are alone in the kitchen and nobody can see you."
-- Julia Child, on landing a flipped pancake on the table rather than in the skillet

(Nov. 22) -- Because my sons are away at college now, this time of year finds me thinking of the Thanksgiving of my third year at law school, the first year I didn't come home. I'd never made a turkey before -- I'd only watched my mom do it -- but I assured my housemates I was an expert turkey-dinner cooker, and promptly assigned the dreaded task of peeling potatoes to someone else.

I'm so young in those photos, 23. But when I look at them now, what strikes me is the things you can't see: how disappointed I was at my time in a three-mile race that morning; that I'd failed to land a job at the State Department and instead taken a job at a Los Angeles law firm to live near the fellow with his arm in a sling, who would ultimately leave me for someone else; that I'd carefully brushed the dirt off the bottom of the turkey after I picked it up off the floor.

Perhaps you can see the grin on my best friend's face, though; Jenn always sees through me, even when no one else does. And loves me anyway.

I've spent much of the last year living in that Division Street house we lived in -- not literally, but through the writing of a new novel that is an homage to those friends, and especially to Jenn. It's one of the things I love about my writing life. Yes, I gave up the bigger paycheck that comes with being a lawyer, but in exchange I'm allowed to spend my days reading wonderful novels, learning about things that interest me rather than fit my clients' needs, luxuriating in old photographs and memories, and calling it all "work."

In exchange, I've been allowed daily breakfasts and dinners with my husband and our two sons, and vacations, bedtime stories and finger-painting and chess tournaments, children's theater musicals, college lists and applications and deciding-which-college tours. And the joy of seeing my byline, and then my novels on bookstore shelves.

In the process, I've had time to discover who I am, what I really care about, what I can accept and what I cannot. I've come to learn that what my father taught me -- "All things in life are for the best" -- turns out to be true most of the time.

When that fellow with his arm in a sling left me, it freed me to meet my husband, who turns out to be a second Jenn, a second best friend.

Not making partner at that law firm made it harder to turn back to the law in the tough early years of writing, and made it oddly easier to keep writing, to face the possibility of failing again knowing I would survive.

Despite years of running, I never have won a race -- although I did place third in my age group last year, in a small race on my 50th birthday (a fact about which I am inordinately proud).

And when I drop the turkey on the floor these days, I'm comfortable laughing with my friends, who are smart enough to take their meat from the top.

There will be two turkeys on the Thanksgiving table this year, at my brother's house. I'm happy to admit he does a better turkey than I do, and enjoys it more. I'm to bring the pies, which my son Nick will lend his thumb to; his thumbs have been helping crimp the crust edges for 16 years now, since he was 2 and standing on a chair to reach the counter top. I like making pies better than making turkey, even though there is no hiding the broken crust of a dropped pie.

What I'm left with now is the question of how to help my own sons learn these lessons the easy way, rather than struggling through as I have done. They are both off at college, but still coming home for the holidays. So there is time.

There's also the possibility that this isn't something I can teach them, that some things we have to learn for ourselves. But I can let them see me drop the turkey, and pick it back up again. Or the pie. A broken crust tastes as good as a perfect one, after all, and is more memorable, too.

Meg Waite Clayton is the author of the national bestselling novel "The Wednesday Sisters" and "The Language of Light," a finalist for the Bellwether Prize. Read her blog on Red Room.


Thanksgiving Week Special: I'm Thankful for ...
We asked a successful businessman, a former soap opera star, best-selling novelists and other popular writers to share what they are thankful for this year. The articles will run throughout Thanksgiving week.

Monday: A Moment in September -- Jessica Barksdale Inclan
Monday: My Writing Life -- Meg Waite Clayton
Tuesday: Long-Distance Love -- Kathy Briccetti
Tuesday: The Cornucopia of America -- Tina Sloan
Tuesday: A Special Photograph -- Tim Wise
Wednesday: Garlic -- Crescent Dragonwagon
Wednesday: Expressions of Gratitude -- Jacqueline Winspear
Wednesday: All of My Feelings -- Susan Ariel Rainbow Kennedy
Thursday: Entertaining Strangers -- Pat Montandon
Thursday: Being Home Together -- Kerry Madden
Friday: The Chance to Give Back -- Wally Amos
Friday: A'isha, the Jewel of Medina -- Sherry Jones