Back to Binge basics
Talking to Creative Writing students about launching a food website.
Binge was in its planning phase for ten months before I actually started to execute it. I worked on execution for another six months before I finally launched it. Few people (except the wise, of course) realise the amount of detail that went into it and the kind of toil it required.
As a committed planner, I realise nearly every month how much I love milestones. Even if it isn’t a significant event, I’ll find something from exactly a month, year, week, day — sometimes even an hour — earlier to celebrate. It could be anything, from when a particular section on the website went live, to when we published our first photo essay in collaboration with The Huffington Post. These celebrations are mostly internal, and they help the overachiever in me feel like she’s constantly accomplishing. So, when I was invited by a former professor to go back university and talk to current students about the website and my career, all near six months of Binge being live, you can imagine my excitement.
To be able to express all of my hard work in a seminar full of eager, talented young writers at the University of Westminster seemed extremely worthwhile. Not only for me, but as something to give back to the institution that helped me push the boundaries of my creativity, polish my craft, and come out known as a professional, trained writer with a Master’s degree.
My outfit was ironed the evening before, and I had picked out a pair of earrings which would be nice enough to look formal but subtle enough to not distract from my talking. The day of the talks was reserved mostly for that — the talks (and maybe a tea or coffee in between).
Rushing out of Oxford Circus station and to the university reception, mostly enthusiastic and ten percent nervous, I met my former professor, who walked me to class. I entered and immediately saw myself and my friends sitting in the very seats that were now occupied by new faces. We were definitely more vibrant. And that thought was scratched not much later.
I ended up talking to three sets of students — one MA Creative Writing and two BA Creative Writing classes—spread over two days. The details I went into and the points I made came to me quite naturally, as if I had memorised them at those very moments of working on the project. What came as a surprise was overwhelming interest from the students, some of whom had researched both the website and me. There were discussions about everything, from specific articles to my Instagram bio.
These students — especially the junior ones — considered me a bit of a role model, and those, for me, were very big shoes to fill. I tried to be responsible in my replies whilst also being as authentic as possible. They asked about my jobs before Binge, my favourite food, what I would eat if I could only eat one type of cuisine, and the brutalities of office politics. I must’ve answered about a hundred questions in one of the classes.
Whilst doing a quick recap with the professor, he asked me if I gained something out of it. I realised then that whilst talking to the students, I got to polish my own basics of writing. They spoke of their writing styles and preferred genres, peppered with conversation like the difference between memoirs and personal essays. Even though a lot of us branch out into a particular field and don’t always use all forms of writing, it’s somehow comforting to know that they exist. It’s almost like a subconscious backup plan: if not this, then that.
Apart from that, it also compels me to push boundaries within the kind of writing I regularly do. Journalism, when narrative, could use a bit of memoir. Or fiction could be inspired by journalism — which is what Binge tries to do with its Food Fiction section.
I think it’s a good idea to go back in time, even if figuratively, to see what’s changed since and what hasn’t. Writing could have trends too, even if they aren’t predicted as devotedly as fashion or art. I think the list of nominees for the Man Booker being so different each year is excellent evidence of this. I’m glad I got to go four years ago, to a familiar constant, only to see what the new variables were. And I saw them for every month, year, week, day — sometimes even an hour — since.
