An acquaintance of mine once found herself in a jam. An art show was to be in town and she needed to chop a bushel of tomatoes for her sandwich wagon by the next day. I wanted to help out and offered to chop tomatoes.

“Show me your knife.”

I pulled one from a drawer. She seemed satisfied enough that it was separated from other implements of destruction. Producing a tomato, she asked me to cut it. I pressed the blade to the skin. Instead of a nice clean slice, it bunched and squashed. Juice squirted out and seeds dislodged from their placenta. In short, my dull knife ripped the tomato apart. Until that moment, it never occurred to me to sharpen it. With this knife, I’d have better luck making tomato sauce.

“I’ll be right back.” She left through the front door and in her absence I experienced intense tomato shame. What could I do with this poor tomato? Did she want it back? Should I throw it away? Should I keep it? Is a ruined tomato edible? (Yes it is, with salt & pepper, please.) She returned only moments later with a different, sharper knife. “Try this.”

I laid the blade on the skin and it basically fell through the tomato, cutting it so cleanly that I gasped. She laughed and told me when she would be back for them. I couldn’t get over how little effort it took to chop those tomatoes.

It became a life lesson not only about keeping knives sharp but taking care of “my tools” whatever they might be. Nowadays, who would be writing a blog post on a typewriter? This same lesson informed my decision to get a better software as I became more serious about writing.

Are you trying to accomplish something right now using a dull tool? If you can’t find a way to sharpen it you might need to replace it. The time wasted trying to make it work is better spent elsewhere.

What’s your “dull knife” story? I’d love to hear from you. Thanks for coming by today. I look forward to seeing you next time.