I am a published cookbook author and I am not a chef.

After achieving the dream of a book pitch picked up by a publisher, I quickly came to realize my passion for pure cooking is simplistic. Instead of delighting in drawn-out tasks and obscure ingredients, I find myself hacking recipes to achieve maximum flavor with minimum effort. Comparing myself to star chefs and food savants left me feeling cheap, fake, and demoralized.

Though I enjoy cooking dinner, after about an hour, I want to be done with dinner. So I started as a cookbook author, only to find out I am so not a cookbook author.

The right direction often feels wrong (for a while).

Riddled with imposter syndrome, I retraced my steps.

I started down this way because food is beautiful. Experimenting with food is immersive creativity from head to toe. I deftly experiment with colors, flavors, and shapes to build recipes. My illustration work is compelled to draw from the pungency of it all.

Trusting my instinct to develop, write, and draw recipes into a book was as natural as putting one foot in front of another. Imposter syndrome is nothing more than a vicious waste of resources.

Next time, I will not forget that:

Comparison is a waste of energy.

I came clean and changed the direction of the book. I’m not a professional cook. I am a product designer, who works a full-time job, and decompresses by cooking dinner. That’s okay. I stopped dragging myself through complicated recipes, stuffy food photos, and Instagram cooking reels.

Trying to squish myself into the role of my perceived “cookbook author” persona felt wrong, and nearly squeezed the life right out of my creative spirit.

Releasing myself from comparison breathed life into this cookbook project.

I was finally able to appreciate and embrace the fact that:

Setbacks are creative constraints and ultimately lead to better outcomes.

Setback: I questioned my ability to finish as I felt crunched for time working late nights after work. How could I compete with other authors who had endless time and energy to pour into their books?

Creative constraint: Each recipe must be achievable in the limited time outside of a full-time job.

Outcome: My cookbook is full of recipes guaranteed to fit into the limited time (and energy) after work.

Setback: I shuddered at my lack of photo equipment, daylight, and patience to create perfectly styled food photos.

Creative constraint: Share vision and excitement for a dish without the help of explicit photography

Outcome: I illustrated every recipe. Readers have responded with relief and delight to be released from the unachievable standard of a perfectly styled photo.

Setback: I’m not a renowned chef, I’m the fame-less girl next door.

Creative constraint: Lead with honesty in my story and experience.

Outcome: The cookbook vibrates with approachability. Anyone can do this.

In the words of Ted Lasso,

“Every disadvantage has an advantage”.

Setbacks turned creative constraints, turned engaging outcomes, is how innovative creative work comes into the world.

When it comes to creative endeavors, the only prerequisites are curiosity, courage, and passion.

Go forth, and make.

Final note: Why Penguins? They are “failure” birds and “failure” fish and hands down one of the most inspiring animals. Be a penguin.