Food Writer Blues
I never intended to be a food writer. It just kind of happened.
For 10 years I wrote about bands and reviewed shows and albums back in San Francisco. All of that came to a screeching halt when I moved to Tucson. Sure we get shows here but not enough to continue my tenure with some of the publications that I was contributing to.
Although I did land a temporary gig with an alternative newspaper that folded maybe two articles of mine in. The big one being an interview and show review with Richard Marx. Yes, that Richard Marx. The 80s guy with the then legendary fluff mullet.
He was great. We got along so famously that he wanted to take the wife and me with him on his tour. Kinda “Almost Famous” like. His tour manager was not having it.
So I just kind of languished with here and there jobs, scribbling in notebooks, typing the occasional story.
Then, it hit me. The Sonoran Hot Dog.
After consuming my fair share of that bean and mayo filled glizzy vestibule I knew that I wanted to write about it. So I did. Now what?
Not too sure of the exact date but I started my blog, The Tucson Homeskillet, somewhere between the timelines of 2008-10. It was a simple little scrolly thing. I’d post now and then with no real intention of doing much with it.
That is until 2014.
That year was rough, chock full of family deaths. First my dad’s husband died, then my dad died less than a month later. Then my wife’s grandfather died. About a month after we had to put the dog down post having a stroke. About a week after him we found the cat half devoured by coyotes in the back brush.
I was barely at work that year. My depression and anxiety really got on top of me. So I needed a distraction.
In early 2015 I gave the Homeskillet a facelift. Cleaned it up, made it more legit and dedicated that I would contribute at least once a week, 1000 words, a dozen photos each. It worked and it kind of took off.
One day I got an email. It was from the assistant editor from the Tucson Weekly. At the time their food writer was a mess and generally hated by most. She was a food writer living in Tucson that hated both food and Tucson. That editor liked my blog enough and asked if I wanted to meet with the managing editor to see if I’d be a good fit. I of course said yes.
The managing editor and I hit it off a little too easily. I pitched her some ideas, she liked them and before you knew it I was now the food writer for the Weekly.
That’s when things actually began to take off for me. Sort of.
This was my first excursion into public scrutiny. The comments in my first year were brutal. “This new guys sucks”, “Bring back the old food writer”, “Who is this guy?”, etc. I even managed a regular hater. Going by the handle of HumanBean, this person would dismiss almost every feature I produced. It went on for quite some time until it got so bad that other commenters commented back to them (after I gained their trust and some followers) and eventually HumanBean just kind of disappeared.
Things went okay and pretty smooth for the next couple of years. Because of the Weekly I was now invited to judge culinary and cocktail competitions, be present at the Tucson Iron Chef finales, free admission to all sorts of food and beer festivals – it was cool.
That is until 2020 hit.
My last article went up in January of that year which had been pushed back by at least a month. Unbeknownst to me the Weekly was beginning to transition into a different format as they and countless other weekly newspapers were getting devoured by a Los Angeles based publishing house. That article, about a soul food restaurant inside a liquor store by the university, closed over the holidays. I had no idea; I was too busy working on other features. That’s when my editor told me that I was on an undisclosed hiatus as they ‘figure things out’. Then Covid hit and I was then officially let go.
With no print country to call home, along with my wife’s restaurant shutting down, I took an emergency job with Total Wine. During that time I refurbished the old Tucson Homeskillet and began writing about businesses that were doing curbside service, opening but with serious social distancing, stuff like that.
That’s when I noticed a locally popular food site was being managed by literally one person. Seeing as I had little to do other than work at Total Wine and occasionally post on the Homeskillet, along with taking care of my wife and our cat, I asked if he needed any help.
Months went by but one day I got an email from a guy saying he is the new owner of said food site and was curious if I wanted to contribute. After a meeting at our local pub, we all seemed to be on the same page and before long I was writing for them.
Then things really took off.
Man I was so busy writing for them, going to events, meetings, tastings, private dinners, restaurant previews and, yes, judging competitions again that I thought I was their head writer and a big part of the team. Heck they even let me do a food truck event sponsored by them, which went over really well.
Thing is, after about a year being with them, I felt as if things were a little…off.
It first came when they announced that there was going to be a staff meeting over Asana. When I saw it I asked when and where. My phone rang about ten minutes later.
It was the COO of the site and she had a message for me.
“Mark the meeting is for core staff only.”
On the invite list were other random “core staff” including two photographers they sometimes used and a new hire who did…something. And here I thought I was the head writer, turning in at least 2 articles a week, 1,500 words each. With photos. That I took!
Okay. That hurt a bit, but, whatever.
The other was my anxiety. It was going off the rails.
Most days, if not every day, I was glued to my phone, trying to find the new cool food truck, trying to keep in contact with chefs, restaurant and bar owners, seeing what long standing eatery was celebrating an anniversary or which was shutting down. Heck I even had access to a map via the county that had all of the new trucks, bars, places, etc that recently passed their health inspection and were set to open soon. Any opportunity on days off, slow times at the day job or whenever, I was thumbing my way into screen time madness.
Not to mention, but I always felt not really part of the team. I was older, weirder, looked like I actually ate and drank (most on the team were pretty thin) and definitely not a shmoozy hipster. When I arrived for any function I was welcomed, made them laugh, with this hovering feeling that they were all “Who’s this old guy?”
In fact, my anxiety got so bad that my wife rented us an emergency Airbnb. We’d sit by the pool, not stare at our phones, get takeout, sleep late and try to relax.
Day one at the Airbnb my phone rang. It was the COO. Again.
This time she was saying that they were “moving in a new direction” (that old noodle), rethinking their brand while trying to get their finances in order. That last one did not surprise me at all.
Several times with them they skipped a paycheck. Once while the wife and I were road tripping and I kind of needed that check for gas money. So getting rid of me meant more cash for them.
And that was that. So now what?
The answer is pretty obvious: it is time to move on!
I now have this handy dandy website, a lot of ideas and so much fun stuff to write about. Of course I’ll be covering food, duh, but there is a lot more that needs your and my attention. So stay tuned.
And thanks for reading my stuff.
Cheers!
Yeah Write Mark 