You Still Get Fudge by Brenda J. Wood
Even though the recipe is unbelievably simple, even though there are only two ingredients, the result is terrific fudge.
1 pkg. (225 g) Baker’s Semi-Sweet Chocolate
1 can (300 ml) sweetened condensed milk
Line 8-inch square pan with foil, with ends of foil extending over sides; spray with cooking spray. Melt chocolate as directed on package. Add milk; mix well. Spread onto prepared pan. Refrigerate until firm. Cut into 24 pieces.
My friend won’t even try it. Her recipe calls for candy thermometers, twenty ingredients, and an hour in the kitchen. Her fudge is tasty, but no more so than mine. She acknowledges that she is a plotter, but insists that I am a pantser in both cooking and writing.
A pantser is one who flies by the seat of their pants; one who dives in without planning, preparation, or even help from others. Somehow, at the end of such wild and crazy, unguided behaviour, pantsers get both fudge and a completed manuscript.
I’m in awe of those who plot and scheme and work out all the details ahead of time, but some of us prefer the surprise ending, the frantic twist when we finish the chapter. Does that make us bad writers?
Others spend months plotting charts, developing characters, and researching locations. Somehow, at the end of such wild and crazy, unguided behaviour, they too come out with a pan of fudge, a completed manuscript.
We both get results.
What happens when a writer of one style tries to mimic the other? I am about to find out. I’ve joined a ten-week writing class presented by Brenda Chin, the editorial director of ImaJinn Books and former senior editor at Harlequin. Ms. Chin wants us to plot.
I cling to the hope that my pantser self behaves itself long enough to twirl through plot lines, educational research, and pages of notes. That it will behave in spite of its yearning to just go for it and see where the chocolate drips, so to speak. No matter. After all, the end result will still be fudge.