Category Archives: Cupcakes

Fly Across a Starry Sky

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My creative outlet used to be cupcakes, and the crazier the better—especially considering that I was not, nor have I since become, a baker. I simply imagined the cupcakes I wanted to create and made them happen, despite my embryonic skills—the half-baked embodiment of “where there’s a will, there’s a way.” I went so far as to print business cards and establish an online presence, under the humble moniker Cupcake Queen. I had a few paid gigs, but mostly, I just wanted to make people happy. As my long-abandoned Twitter page has reminded me, I loved baking cupcakes for “anyone who would make yummy sounds while eating them.”

See my step-by-step instructions for “caramel apple” cupcakes.

I know what you’re thinking: “baker,” “songwriter”—we have quite a Renaissance woman on our hands here! It probably shouldn’t come as a surprise that when I took a songwriting class a year ago, I went all “cupcake” on the first assignment. Here’s the lofty plan I shared with my peers:

I would like to write the blackbird’s response to the Beatles’ “Blackbird”—basically, a “translation” of what the bird is singing (in the dead of night). My goal is for the song to stand on its own but also to complement the original, so that the two songs can be played simultaneously. My “vibe,” therefore, is acoustic guitar with fingerpicking. I realize this will be quite a challenge for a newbie songwriter and guitar player.

I took it a step further: the last word (or syllable) of each line in “Blackbird” would become the first word of the corresponding line in the new song, and the two words would probably be sung together. I pictured two people on a stage, one performing “Blackbird” and the other performing the blackbird’s response. The only factor remotely in my favor was that “Blackbird” was one of the only songs I could play on the guitar (and still is).

I know what you’re thinking now: “There’s no way she pulled it off.” And you’re right, but not entirely. I did write “The Blackbird’s Response,” with the scheme I proposed. I came up with a melody and recorded the composition. Due only partly to a jaunty harpsichord interlude (listen below!), the finished product did not melodically complement the original; that aspect of my plan was beyond my ability, especially within the few days allotted for the assignment. I have not attempted it since. I invite anyone interested to write a melody for “The Blackbird’s Response,” such that the song can be performed simultaneously with “Blackbird” but also stand on its own. I would love to hear it!

The lyrics for “The Blackbird’s Response” are below, with an interpolation of the two sets of lyrics below that. Below that is the jaunty harpsichord interlude from the original recording of “The Blackbird’s Response,” just for fun.

The Blackbird’s Response

Night, hold close, my bosom friend!
Fly? If but these wings could mend
Life—a time too long to spend
Rise? And wither wend?

Night, you bring me gentle word
See you hope for such a bird?
Life—the saddest ballad heard
Free what you have stirred

Fly across a starry sky
Fly and watch the world on high

Fly across a starry sky
Fly and watch the world go by

Night, I need no more thy cloak
Fly I must, from neath this yoke
Life began when I awoke
Rise, for morning broke
Rise, for morning broke

“The Blackbird’s Response” Interpolated with “Blackbird”

Blackbird singing in the dead of night

Night, hold close, my bosom friend!

Take these broken wings and learn to fly

Fly? If but these wings could mend

All your life

Life—a time too long to spend

You were only waiting for this moment to arise

Rise? And wither wend?



Blackbird singing in the dead of night

Night, you bring me gentle word

Take these sunken eyes and learn to see

See you hope for such a bird?

All your life

Life—the saddest ballad heard

You were only waiting for this moment to be free

Free what you have stirred



Blackbird fly

Fly across a starry sky

Blackbird fly

Fly and watch the world on high

Into the light of a dark black night



Blackbird fly

Fly across a starry sky

Blackbird fly

Fly and watch the world go by

Into the light of a dark black night



Blackbird singing in the dead of night

Night, I need no more thy cloak

Take these broken wings and learn to fly

Fly I must, from neath this yoke

All your life

Life began when I awoke

You were only waiting for this moment to arise

Rise, for morning broke

You were only waiting for this moment to arise

Rise, for morning broke

You were only waiting for this moment to arise

Jaunty Harpsichord Interlude

What I Have Learned from Cupcakes

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Birthday Cupcake

“Mini me” cupcake

Pumpkin Pie Cupcakes

Pumpkin pie cupcakes

If someone who knows me were to play word association with my name, he or she might come up with editor, blonde, or short, but not before cupcakes. My obsession with cupcakes started five or six years ago. I blame artist Wayne Thiebaud, whose thickly painted pastries really captured my imagination. (I even wrote a short story about his piece Pies, Pies, Pies.) Though not a cook or even a baker, I follow recipes, hope for the best, and post photos of the results.

Unicorn Poop Cupcake

Unicorn poop cupcake

Today is my birthday, so it seems an appropriate occasion to reflect on my relationship with these classically celebratory confections. Here are some lessons that cupcakes have taught me about life and dessert:

  1. Sometimes, the icing on the cake is literally the icing on the cake.
  2. Making a mess is much more fun than cleaning it up.
  3. Our creations inevitably fall short of our imaginations.
  4. Even if you visualize something over and over, it will never happen exactly that way.
  5. Having an obsession makes it easy for people to buy you gifts you’ll love (“Oh my God! Cupcake dish towels!”).
  6. Measure twice, bake once.
  7. Always keep chocolate in the house.
  8. Think on your feet (and wear comfortable shoes).
  9. Push yourself beyond what you know you can do.
  10. There’s no shame in having an entire drawer of sprinkles (or an entire cupboard, room, or wing of the house of whatever you treasure or collect).

Graduation Cupcake

Graduation cupcake

Ultimately, for me, cupcakes are about spreading joy. As I say on my neglected Twitter page, I love baking cupcakes for family, friends, friends of friends, friends of family, and anyone who will make yummy sounds while eating them.

And I always bake a few extras for myself.

I Am Not Silently Correcting Your Grammar

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The word editor has been in my job title for over 20 years. People seem to think I am always editing, even in my spare time. But when the clock is off, I remove my editor’s hat. It looks like this:

Copy Editor Hat

(Not really, but I might order it.) Aside from authors who pay me, the only people whose grammar I might summon the energy to correct are TV newscasters.

It’s another story, however, when I have that proverbial red pen in my hand. It looks like this:

Track Changes

Indeed, when I am asked to make a manuscript as morphologically and syntactically sound as possible, I take no prisoners. Here are some of the errors I eradicate most frequently:

  1. Two spaces between sentences. The number of spaces used between sentences has a fascinating history (if you’re into typography—who isn’t?), but single spacing has been the accepted printing convention since the mid-twentieth century. For instance, the following spacing is incorrect: “I like cupcakes.  They are yummy.” Fortunately, this gaffe is easily fixed with a little “find and replace” action.
  2. Missing serial comma. It says in the bible (The Chicago Manual of Style), “When a conjunction joins the last two elements in a series of three or more, a comma—known as the serial or series comma or the Oxford comma—should appear before the conjunction.” Here is an example of the profound confusion caused by a missing serial Cupcakescomma: “I am making the following flavors of cupcakes: strawberry, orange and chocolate and banana.” So, in addition to strawberry cupcakes, am I making cupcakes that are (1) orange and (2) chocolate and banana? Or (1) orange and chocolate and (2) banana? Either way, it looks like I’m making cupcakes.
  3. Random capitalization. I wish I could get inside the head of the writer who, without warning, capitalizes words that should be lowercase. If I were editing a book on baked goods (please send me manuscripts on baked goods—or just baked goods), I might find a sentence like this: “A Cupcake is a small cake designed to serve one person, which may be baked in a paper or Aluminum Cup.”
  4. Dangling modifiers. A dangling modifier is a word or phrase that describes a word not clearly stated in the sentence—often to humorous effect. For example, “Standing at the dessert counter, my eyes took in the rows of colorful cupcakes.” In other words, my eyes were standing at the dessert counter—which is absurd, because eyes don’t even have feet! Here is a possible reworking: “Standing at the dessert counter, I ogled the rows of colorful cupcakes.”
  5. Pronouns with unclear antecedents. I often encounter pronouns that could refer to more than one noun in a sentence. For example, “After putting sprinkles on the cupcakes, I sealed them in a container.” We don’t know if “them” refers to “sprinkles” or “cupcakes.” We only know it refers to something good.

The law of irony dictates that if you write about editorial pet peeves, you will make a stupid mistake and have it pointed out to you—which is where a comforting cupcake comes in.

My Predictions for 2013

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Frost Cupcakes According to statistics on New Year’s resolutions, 8 percent of people are “successful in achieving their resolution.” This figure seems dishearteningly low. Yet people who explicitly make resolutions are 10 times more likely to attain their goals than people who don’t. In other words, non-resolution-makers achieve their not-formally-expressed objectives only four-fifths of 1 percent of the time! This statistic would seem to support the time-honored tradition of making New Year’s resolutions.

Unfortunately, at least to me, a resolution connotes a dispiriting sense of responsibility, requiring a firmness of purpose to which I’d rather not have to commit. Therefore, in the spirit of self-fulfilling prophesy, I have decided to make predictions this year instead of resolutions. A prediction has an element of fate to it, as if it is inevitable and somehow supported by the universe. An individual might play a role in its occurrence, but there is the suggestion of co-participation with an invisible agent.

So here are my predictions, inspired by a combination of intuition and wishful thinking. In 2013, I will . . .

  1. Make good progress on the first draft of my novel.
  2. Schedule more sessions with my coach.
  3. Set up a writing studio.
  4. Really push myself to increase my belly-dance workout from 15 minutes to 20 minutes a day.
  5. Stop saving leftover frosting for snacking.
  6. Have a nice dinner with my husband in New York City.
  7. Resume drinking pumpkin spice lattes around October 1.

If you are looking for ideas for your own resolutions (or predictions), you might want to check out this generator I came across. One of the first suggestions it gave me was, “I will frost cupcakes”—so I think it might actually know something!

Please Have Snow and Mistletoe

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Let me start by saying that I observe December 25 with Chinese food and a movie. But that doesn’t mean I am immune to the Christmas spirit. In fact, I seem to be quite susceptible to it lately. One reason may be that I bake cupcakes, and the cupcake community promotes seasonal offerings. For "Candy cane" cupcakesexample, I made mini “candy cane” cupcakes this year. Another way I have succumbed to the most wonderful time of the year is by really noticing, for the first time, its omnipresent music.

Although I know the season’s songs are often as maligned as its fruitcake, I find myself getting pulled into the idyllic scenes they draw. For example, I want to take a sleigh ride together with you and then rock around the Christmas tree, have the corn you’ve brought for poppin’, and conspire as we dream by the fire. Our troubles will be miles away! (Although I have a terrible feeling that Frosty the Snowman will not be back again someday. The sun was hot that day . . .)

I am on the outside of Christmas, and maybe that’s the best distance from which to enjoy its soundtrack. I have read enough Dear Prudence to know that the actual celebration of the holiday is frequently far from perfect. In fact, according to the National Institutes of Health, the incidence of depression is greatest at Christmastime. I can’t help but wonder if these sentimental ballads foster expectations for festivity straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting, which can never be met—resulting in inevitable disappointment.

On the other hand, perhaps they are simply love songs, wooing the perfect Christmas—which remains sweetly out of reach. And I feel swept up in the romance. In that vein, the holidays represent ideals—such as brotherhood, home, peace, love, and joy—to which we aspire. I think I respond emotionally to the depiction of these themes. I can’t hear (Bing Crosby’s rendition of) “I’ll Be Home for Christmas,” written from the point of view of an overseas soldier during World War II, without getting a tear in my eye. Its melancholy twist (“If only in my dreams”) highlights our separation from cherished ideals.

Or maybe I just have Christmas envy. Fa la la la la, la la la la.