Lessons in sourdough and writing

sourdough oct 15thI make sourdough every couple of days. It’s about the only thing I got from The Artist’s Way self-driven course. I don’t mind that; it’s tasty and it makes the house smell great.

But recently my loaves have not risen properly. I thought there was something wrong with my starter. To explain, you grow your own yeasty concoction and feed it plain flour and water every couple of days. Mine lives in the fridge where its growth can be slowed and contained and I feed it every four days.

I imagined throwing it all out and starting again.

*shudder*

I hate waste and I’d have real problems doing that but after a couple of failed batches I realised the problem was ME! [Isn’t it always?] We still ate the ‘failed’ bread. It was more doughy and flat but still good. Truthfully I ate it, the kids avoided it.

Before you bake, you put aside a bowl with a tablespoon of your yeasty starter and a small amount of flour and water. It grows happily overnight. I put mine up on top of the fridge where the temperature is warm and constant.

The first step of the recipe is pouring that starter (or leaven) into water. If it floats, your bread will work. If it doesn’t float you should chuck it out and start again.

I’d been ignoring that part.

I put extra starter in the mix, thinking that more of a good thing was better and it obviously isn’t. Too yeasty and the bread doesn’t work.

I’m going to try to turn this into a writing metaphor.

I get lots and lots of ideas, but not all of them can be whole stories. They don’t float to use the leaven metaphor. And I reckon it doesn’t matter how much effort you put into every step after that first one with an idea that won’t float. It just hasn’t got the buoyancy. It isn’t the right balance. If it rises too fast and too early then it collapses later.

Now if only I can remember that.