Hi there, and thanks for visiting my site! The experience of writing a food blog should be memorable and special—like the time you made your mother cry by telling her that you didn't think marriage was your thing. But don't worry; you've come to the right place. I am prepared to teach you everything there is to know about documenting the creation of a tofu quiche—with a side of newfound moral superiority. 
Here you will learn how to discuss the importance of healthfulness and tranquility in posts containing recipes that no one will ever actually be able to replicate.

First off, you should give yourself a pat on the back for quitting that annoying paralegal job, forgetting about your student debt, and focussing on yourself. No need for introductions here—I know exactly who you are. You tried to read "Eat, Pray, Love," but never got past the "Eat" section. You ruefully chose not to buy that hemp sweater because it looked too itchy. You thought that food blogs were reserved for people who only speak in the second person. You were correct.

Before you get cooking, write down everything that comes into your head.
You're going to want to share all of it with your readers, so that they understand that you are pensive, but also totally relatable. When you're done, figure out a way to begin your first blog post with a bang. I suggest something ponderous, such as "Why does the sun seem so bright today?" or "What is the real purpose of the little toe—is it just there to be cute?" "Swiss chard: a leafy green for people who can't find the kale?"

The next thing you'll want to do is take stock of your pantry to make sure all your ingredients are in order. Quinoa is excellent for every meal because its texture is a reminder that life can't always be smooth or digestible. Every grain that slips through your fingers symbolizes a friendship that you gave up because you spent all those years dating that guitarist who could only play two Sublime songs and then left you to get a degree in marketing. Don't waste another moment thinking about which song he is playing right now—they are both equally terrible. Instead, write a poem-recipe about him that's also an acrostic that forms the words "PONZU SAUCE." Hit "publish."

Remember, you never want to confuse your readers. I find it helpful to always provide a photo of each individual ingredient, in case your fans forget what food looks like, as well as a candid photo of a baby (it doesn't have to be yours) in a bathtub full of chia seeds. Isn't he adorable?

When you're ready to start testing a recipe, pause and meditate for a moment on how you let things get so out of hand. I mean, you don't even like Sublime that much. Pour yourself the better part of a bottle of wine and realize that you forgot to soak the chickpeas overnight. Write eight hundred impassioned words about whether "foodie" means anything when applied to you, other than that you are a grown woman who eats food. Polish off the wine as you reblog photos of a confetti cake that you made last year for the guitarist's thirtieth birthday. Order from Seamless.

Congratulations! You made it through your first day as a "professional" food blogger. Before you pass out, post a final image of someone holding a fistful of dirty radishes. Tomorrow we'll tackle how to find a font that makes you feel less alone while binge-watching "The Bachelorette" until your hangover goes away.

This article first appeared on NewYorker. You can read the original here.