The Fat is the Best Part

Having worked as a writer since January, and being a student who considers his strong suit to be writing, much fuss has been made over editing out "fat." I'll illustrate my position on this with a largely irrelevant analogy. Fat in writing is like fat in meat. When I was a child, I generally despised this fat because Americans don't know how to cook fat (although whatever my mother cooked was great). Or maybe its just that fat is just not appropriate for American meals. Whatever. When I went to Argentina, I discovered that fat was God's gift to those who truly loved meat. It's slightly crunchy almost, and full of flavor. You end up wanting a bit on each bite, and in your dreams steaks dance across your subconscious.

I've also found it is the same in writing. There are those things that just cannot abide fat, or perhaps just can't include it because of the preferences of those eating it. Journalism, I think, would fall into this category. It's all about opening up the reader's mouth and turning on a fire hose. Same deal with academic papers. Really though, that would be like having fat on a tomato. Just something you don't want to be eating in the first place. But anyways, with literature I really do enjoy that bit of fat. When the prose is just something lyrical and beautiful (and well done), sometimes it seems that the novel is merely the catalyst of bringing together that kind of writing, instead of the other way around. So openly, I’ll admit I love literature that is a bit indulgent. I love the prepositions. I love the occasional passive sentence. I love the half-page descriptions of sunsets draining the sky of color, the feeling of the wind whispering to you, the churning of a train’s wheels on smooth steel tracks, and whatever else I haven’t experienced again on the pages of a book.

Just as long as an Argentine cooks it.