3 Easy Mistakes Every Cookbook and Food Memoir Writer Makes

Photo by Elevae Visuals

One of the things I’ve learned as a book coach is that writers make the same mistakes as each other. Most of them get stuck on the competitive title section of the book proposal and have a hard time explaining how their book will improve upon what someone else has written. And a lot of cookbook and food memoir writers believe they don’t need to spend a lot of time on their book proposal and want to rush through it—only to realize with publishing, you go slow to go fast. It’s better to do the foundational work and be prepared to run full steam ahead, rather than hurry up to slow down and start over again.

But there are a handful of mistakes I see over and over again, and it’s these mistakes that can cause your book writing to take longer or for it to be rejected all together. So, here are the 3 mistakes every cookbook and food memoir writer makes, and how you can avoid them in your own work.

1. Writing a book for “everyone”

The first thing writers say to me is that they want their book to be for everyone. Sorry, darling. It’s not, and it’ll never be. But no matter what I say, they’ll keep their idea vague and audience broad, so they can reach a lot of people. 

“I don’t want anyone to be excluded!”

“This isn’t just an Indian cookbook. Anyone can use it.”

“I want to keep the story general, so it reaches all different kinds of readers.”

In the words of Meredith Hill: When you’re speaking to everyone, you’re speaking to no one.

Part of the problem is writers aren’t talking to their audiences enough to know there is a specific reason people are showing up for them. And they don’t know how to talk to their audience, so they lump everyone into a single category, thinking it’ll make it easier.

But you’re making it harder for the right people to find you. You’re also making it harder to tell a memorable story that’ll connect with those people. And you have to know where your people are showing up, what they care about, and why they’d choose your book over someone else’s. Where people spend their money is a good place to start.

For example, according to Business Insider, “Walmart's typical shopper in the US is a white woman between 60 and 78 years old, who is married and living in the suburbs. She typically owns her home and earns a middle income of between $40,000 to $80,000 per year. She also says she tries to manage her health and doesn't eat out much at restaurants…

The typical customer shops with Walmart at least once per week for an annual spend of $3,578 — about 67 orders at $54 each — and a growing percentage of those transactions are online or in-app sales.”

And BI also reports that “Target's typical shopper is a white suburban mother between 35 and 44 years old. She typically has some college or a 4-year degree, with a household income of $80,000. The typical customer visits Target every other Saturday or so — about 23 trips per year — and picks up seven products for a total cost of about $50 per trip…”. 

The books these two women would buy are likely very different. For a woman who shops at Walmart and doesn’t eat out very much, she’s aching for a cookbook that can make some special memories on her budget. And the woman who shops at Target? Well, she needs something that’ll be quick and a general crowd-pleaser, since she’s running between ballet and soccer practice. 

It doesn’t mean these women wouldn’t buy the same book, but it does mean you’re writing for only one of them. There are billions of people in the world, and no one book can speak to every single person with their own unique set of values, circumstances, and socio-economic backgrounds. Decide your story is for a specific audience, and it’ll be so much easier (and fulfilling) to write and find the people who need your book.

2. Focusing on the food rather than the transformation it brings

It happens with every food writer: The urge to wax poetic about their meals or how to cook something without exploring their own transformation through the food. I’m not talking about recipe writing, especially in cookbooks. More so, the essays and headnote copy. Tell us the emotional connection, the why, behind your recipes. 

In food memoir, some people love lengthy descriptions about eggs or how someone prepared a dish, but it makes my right eye twitch. To me, it reads as filler. And two pages later, I’m still confused why it matters. If there are a few in-depth mentions of food (with a purpose), I’m all for it, but please don’t include every time you’ve ever stepped into a kitchen. The level of detail seems shiny and like a good distraction from what’s missing—a story readers care about. 

Show us where you started, why you needed a change, how you attempted that change, and where you ultimately ended up. The food is just the dinner plate that gets you there.

3. Not landing the ending

I’m going to say it: Most cookbooks and food memoirs have unsatisfying endings. You’re moving along, and then it’s just over. It reminds me of the Winchester Mystery House and how some stairways lead to a door with a wall directly behind it. A lot of build up with nowhere to go. 

Most cookbook and food memoir writers don’t think about the ending at all. It’s not as interesting as the beginning or the middle, where you can play around and talk about “fun stuff”. The ending has to tie everything together and mean something, or nothing you’ve written up to that point even matters. It’s like Olympic gymnastics—you could have a sensational routine, but if you don’t land the ending, it could ruin everything. 

Writers will rush through the final paragraphs of their story just to get it over with. Instead, lean into the ending. Call back something from the very beginning of your story and tie it into what you’ve learned. Bring the reader into a moment of surprise and delight, so that when they close that book, they can’t wait to tell other people to read it.

In food memoir, this often looks like a vague roundup of lessons learned with no true finality. And this happens because most “memoirs” read more as autobiographies. There often are no story constraints, so writers through everything and the kitchen sink into their memoir, leaving it muddy and uninspired.

And for cookbooks, it’s generally just a last recipe. The end. But you could play with an ending in the headnote, or even with a closing essay. There’s not one way to do it, but cookbooks are not longer just recipe collections anymore. Agents and publishers are looking for stories, so use the space you have and use it well.

How to avoid mistakes in the future

So, now that you know your book isn’t for everyone, there should be a transformation in your story, and the ending is where the party’s at, where do you go now? Well, you could spend hours working on your book proposal or manuscript by yourself. Or you could work with me and cut your time in half. 

I’ve had clients who thought they could do it all on their own, but when we started working together 4-6 months later, they had to rewrite their entire proposal or manuscript. Click here to apply for one-on-one coaching, and let’s get it right the first time.