First step: decide to leave your old one.

Get a job. Maybe it’s not your ideal situation, but find something that will, at the very least, provide you with an income.

Look for an apartment, starting in the “cool” areas of the city, then decide that’s not what you want. Find a place that’s exactly what your 14-year-old self envisioned you living in when you were “all grown up.”

Feel absolutely confident and fantastic in your decision to move.

Move.

Regret your decision to move.

Get a car and slowly ease back into a life of driving everywhere, after relying solely on public transport for the past three years.

Fill your apartment. Sleep on an uneven twin bed for much too long before finally buying a bed. Spend too much money on the mattress.

Find characters to populate your new life. Be open to meeting everyone. Try them on for size. Go to happy hours, go to parties. Go to dinners and brunches. Go to work bleary-eyed one too many mornings as a result.

Reconnect with anyone you know in the city. Get drinks and dinner with them. Show them who you are, now. Allow them to do the same.

Overshare, but be true and real when doing so.

Shuffle around these new characters; try to figure out where they fit in your life, or if there’s room for them at all. Continue to meet new ones. Trust some of them too quickly.

Make regrettable choices. Spend time with regrettable people.

Curse your decision to move. Hold tightly to your previous life.

Unintentionally hurt people you love.

Feel like you’ve lost your old self, feel like you don’t know this new person. Wonder if this is a good or bad thing.

Realize you’ve stopped doing some of the things that used to make you feel like you.

Learn unpleasant information about some of the people you chose to spend your time with. Wonder why no one cared to tell you these things beforehand. Feel a little bit bitter and a lot foolish.

Have a strong desire to move from this new life and start a new new one.

Be terribly hard on yourself.

Try to remember to be gentle with yourself.

Consume way too many calories at restaurants in your new city, but become a veritable expert on the food scene while doing so.

Be forward and open, but move on when you are shut down. Reach out to those with whom you feel like your most authentic self. Spend the most time with them.

Feel absolutely confident in your decision to move.

Spend more time with those same regrettable people.

Question why you moved.

Find new things that make you feel like you and start doing them. Pick up some of the old things that made you feel whole.

Finally let those regrettable people go.

Be accepting when people reach out to you, but learn from your previous mistakes. Forgive others for theirs.

Have ridiculously good times with the characters in your life. Love and appreciate them and tell them that.

Slowly come to the realization that you made yourself a life, but don’t know when, exactly, it all came together. That you’re happy.

 

1. Know your shit.

I’m not saying you need to have attended culinary school to have a successful food blog. But at least GENERALLY know what you’re talking about. Fact check. Don’t pretend to be an authority if you aren’t. And if you are going to assume a holier-than-thou attitude about how, say, you lived in Europe and are therefore are an expert on pastry…make sure you know the difference between a macaroon and a macaron.

2. Be judicious in what you write about

If the main focus of your food blog is to review restaurants, it makes you look amateurish to write about that new, fancy schmancy place one day and the next write about Chili’s. How is anyone supposed to take your opinions seriously if you put the same effort and gravity into reviewing braised veal with black truffle vinaigrette topped with wild pea shoots and a Bloomin’ Onion?

3. Photographs are everything

If you take bad photos, I probably won’t read your blog. It’s just true. When there are a million and half beautiful, thoughtful, informative food blogs out there, I see no reason to spend time reading one with mediocre photographs. Tied to this:

3a. Limit your use of Instagram

Lord knows I love (and probably abuse) Instagram. It certainly is convenient and all those nifty filters can trick even the most average photographers into thinking they have skills. But Instagram filters have a tendency to make food look dull, artificial, unnatural, or flat. Camera phones these days can take some gorgeous photographs; they don’t all need to be “spiffed up” with artsy filters.

3b. 95% of the time it is a bad idea to include photos of raw meat

I’ve seen some great shots of a red, marbled steak. But otherwise, I don’t want to see uncooked meat. It’s just terribly unappetizing. A photo of something pink, slimy, and cold does not scream “oh, how delicious, I must make that dish.” It would take the very best photographer to make raw chicken look anything less than revolting.

3c. Bad food porn is unacceptable

It is surprisingly easy to make food look like vomit. A food photograph that is too zoomed-in or cropped too close can often end up making the subject look like diarrhea. Using the flash is another easy way to make food look unappealing. When taking photos of food, natural light and a good angle/distance are your friends.

4. Choose your words wisely

Don’t use big words just for the sake of using big words. Food writing can so easily lapse into being flowery and overwrought if the author is not careful. Food is something that does lend itself to beautiful words. Plump, brackish, fluffy, juicy, drizzle, succulent, piquant…yes, these are lovely. But it should not be your goal to see how many fancy words you can cram into one sentence. Edit.

And alternatively, limit your use of silly, vapid food words. Yummy, nom nom nom, amazeballs, tasty…using these makes you sound like you are twelve.

Oh, and never ever (ever) use the word poop in your food blog. That’s just foul.

1.23.12

1.23.12 by Paige Weaver
1.23.12, a photo by Paige Weaver on Flickr.

scene from my evening run

my favorite building in downtown Dallas

1.22.12

1.22.12 by Paige Weaver
1.22.12, a photo by Paige Weaver on Flickr.

a pomegrante mimosa is a perfect way to start your Sunday

1.21.12

1.21.12 by Paige Weaver
1.21.12, a photo by Paige Weaver on Flickr.

pancakes!

perfect diner breakfast

1.20.12

1.20.12 by Paige Weaver
1.20.12, a photo by Paige Weaver on Flickr.

waiting to pay for my $8 beer at Strangeways

(and, for the record, though it was good, it was not $8 a glass good)

1.19.12

1.19.12 by Paige Weaver
1.19.12, a photo by Paige Weaver on Flickr.

after picking up Cane Rosso pizza to go, driving through downtown Dallas

1.18.12

1.18.12 by Paige Weaver
1.18.12, a photo by Paige Weaver on Flickr.

waiting for the elevator in my apartment building.

though i suppose I could always take the stairs…

1.17.12

1.17.12 by Paige Weaver
1.17.12, a photo by Paige Weaver on Flickr.

these words are so on point.

love them.

1.16.12

1.16.12 by Paige Weaver
1.16.12, a photo by Paige Weaver on Flickr.

5 mile run around White Rock Lake on MLK Day

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