Chapter 6: Baking, Writing, and Everything in Between

It’s been a while since I last wrote a blog. Not that it really matters, who even reads blogs anymore, right? Between TikToks, Instagram reels, and ten-second soundbites, blogs have slowly become the dodos of the internet. But then, on the 2nd of November 2024, I picked up a memo pad from my local bookshop. A few nights before, my husband had stumbled upon a diary I wrote in 2010. We spent the evening laughing through those pages, reading old dreams and dramatic monologues from a version of me who thought turning 29 was peak adulthood. He asked me, “Why don’t you write anymore?” And that question stayed with me. The thing is, I do write. Just not in the way you would expect.

Almost every day, I post something on WhatsApp. A fleeting thought, an inside joke, a little spark of humour or honesty. Gone in 24 hours.  But lately, I’ve been wondering how many tiny pieces of myself have I let vanish that way? How many ideas fizzled out before they had a chance to become something more? So, I gave myself a challenge: what if I stopped letting my thoughts evaporate like mist? What if I wrote them down, fully, properly, with intention? Not for claps or comments. Just to honour the story because Cutting Through deserves to be written. Even if no one else reads it, I will. To remember, to reflect, to make sense of this messy, marvellous and sometimes confusing road I’m walking.

Let’s be honest: writing a full piece is way harder than posting a 200-character status set by Meta. Wow, am I a terrible writer now? Maybe I never was great to begin with. I chuckled while typing that because I spent the whole winter trying to become a better writer by reading more and I failed. Now I’ve got three half-read novels gathering dust on my bedside table, silently judging me.

It all took me back. Remember primary school in Zimbabwe? When the teacher asked you to write a rondedzero, a composition titled “Zvandakaita Pazororo” (What I Did During the Holidays)? You would put your whole heart into it: “I went to the rural areas and herded goats with my cousins, climbed guava trees, helped Gogo in the fields”, only to get it back marked 10 out of 50. It’s like the teacher didn’t believe you, as if she thought, “This child stayed home watching cartoons and now wants to act like a village action hero.” And don’t even get me started on the comments: “interesting story, but it lacks depth”. Since when did my holidays need to be investigated like a crime scene? But you know what, that’s where I learned to embellish, to colour between the lines, to create. That’s where I became a storyteller, even if the system didn't always reward it.

Today, I’m not chasing a perfect score or trying to get published. I just want to tell the story the way it deserves to be told. And even if I’m a bit rusty, I’m writing again. And on the 31st of January 2025, I scribbled a little line in my memo pad: “I’m still not a good writer, but I’m pretty sure the person who can truly captivate a reader can’t bake like I do.” A small note from me to me. A reminder that while I may not weave literary magic, I do know how to create something unforgettable. Just not always in words, sometimes, in sugar and sponge.

You know those people who always say, “I used to be really good at that”? Like, okay Brenda, but can you show us? They haven’t touched the skill in years, but they still critique your every move. Ask them to demonstrate and suddenly it’s, “Back in my day, I was better than everyone.” Translation: Trust me, I was legendary (but please don’t ask for receipts). Well, I guess this is me saying, I used to be good too. Not great. But good. In my final year of undergrad, I wrote a literature review so engaging, my tutor insisted I get it published. And I did. Google me. You’ll find students citing my work on SME credit demand. Ironically, here I am now, an SME myself, with a three-figure business bank account wishing I could attach that dissertation to a grant application. Talk about a full-circle moment.

But if we’re talking about what I am good at now, let’s talk cake. My decorating skills have come a long way. I dare say I’m a bit of a prodigy. Don’t tell the Swiss-trained pastry elites, but the University of YouTube has served me well. My cakes are cleaner, bolder, more Instagram-worthy. My fondant doesn’t look like melted stress anymore. And the best part? It’s been fun, from my first lopsided experiments to confidently stacking tiers and wowing guests at events, it’s been a journey filled with flour, frosting, flops, and laughter.

Why I’ll Keep Writing (Even If No One’s Reading)

Here’s what I know now: the best stories are never the ones that go perfectly, the sweetest victories come right after the most spectacular messes. So, I’ll keep writing. Because this story still has chapters left and they are all part of something bigger.

It’s not just about sugar and sponge.It’s about people, lessons, humour, and a whole lot of heart.

So, if you're still reading, stick around.

I’m not done telling this story yet.