Yates - Cake wrecks: when professional cakes go hilariously wrong

Cake Wrecks: When Professional Cakes Go Hilariously Wrong
copyright 2009 by Jen Yates. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of reprints in the context of reviews. For information, write Andrews McMeel Publishing, LLC, an Andrews McMeel Universal company, 1130 Walnut Street, Kansas City, Missouri 64106.

E-ISBN: 978-0-7407-9404-9

Library of Congress Control Number: 2009925842

www.andrewsmcmeel.com

Book design by Holly Camerlinck

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Contents

Cake Wrecks has been nothing short of a miracle in my life, so I have to first thank God for the amazing whirlwind of a journey this past year and a half has been. It hasnt always been easy, but I wouldnt trade my life now for anything or anyones.

Im also deeply indebted to Christopher Schelling, my agent extraordinaire; my amazing editor Chris Schillig, Holly Camerlinck, and the entire team at Andrews McMeel; my Wrecksistant Anne-Marie; and my go-to genius Chris Friend. Thanks also to Marian Lizzi, Mom and Dad, Mum, my big brother Ben, and the amazing network of friends who have either held my hand or kicked my butt as needed throughout this process. John and Abby, Josh and Alison, Julianne, and Heather, you guys get the gold stars.

And finally, none of this would have been possible without my husband, John. From carrying me through the hard times to laughing with me through the good ones, he shows me daily what love looks like. He also does a mean Swedish Chef impersonation and likes to bakebut not eatbrownies. If thats not the whole package, then I dont know what is. Thanks, sweetieI love you.

In May 2008, a few days after my thirtieth birthday, I got an e-mail that made me laugh. Youve probably seen it; it was one of those viral funnies that got forwarded about a billion times, and probably is still making the rounds. Heck, I bet right now someone in Bangladesh is chortling while forwarding this thing on to everyone in her address book. Anyway, on the off chance you havent seen it, the photo in the e-mail looked something like this:

Its not hard to imagine the phone order that led to this cake. What is hard to imagine is how someone could transcribe the order so literally and yet manage to misspell it at the same time. Is there something profound at work here? Some great social commentary on the mind-numbing qualities of low-paying, repetitious work?

Or are people just dumb sometimes?

Whatever the reason, its funny stuff. Nothing monumental, of course, but a good gag to chuckle over before moving on to that business proposition from the prince of Nigeria.

And yet, as I looked at it that day, a little light-bulb went on. Then I got an idea. I already had some other funny cake photos saved from my searches for inspirational designs for my cake-decorating class. So I started thinking, what if I posted these online somewhere? What would I say? The answers made me chuckle. (Sure, I laugh at my own jokes. Doesnt everyone?)

Hey, what do you think of the name Cake Wrecks? I called to my husband. You know, like train wreck, only with cake?

I like it, he said, popping his head into my office. Why? Are you going to put those on a blog?

Yeah, I think so. You know, just for fun.

And just like that, Cake Wrecks was born.

I waited about a week before I told anyone about it. By then scouring the Net for more pictures each night was my new hobby. It was fun; I relished the hunt, and I loved snarking on what I found. Posting everything anonymously made it all the sweeter, because it gave my rather wicked sense of humor free rein. (Im actually painfully polite in personask anybody.) When I did e-mail a few friends the site address, I kept it pretty low-key. (In fact, when my mother-in-law first started reading the site, she had no idea I was the author.) I wasnt out to attract readers, and I certainly knew nothing about professional blogging: This was purely something for my own amusement.

After posting for several weeks, I was shocked one night to find a comment on the site from someone I didnt know. Even though it was very complimentary, initially I was actually a bit consternated. People I didnt know were reading my blog! But as more comments started trickling in over the next few weeks, I realized these people I didnt know actually liked it. I was thrilled, and suddenly the thought of strangers reading my blog didnt bother me nearly as much.

The weekend of July 4 someone posted a link to Cake Wrecks on the message board of a large cake community Web site. Traffic shot up: Im talking like two hundred people a day, peeps! Id hit the big time! Even better, people started e-mailing me photos. I had thought there wasnt enough material out there to keep Cake Wrecks afloat for more than a few months. My faithful Wreckporters, as I came to call them, proved me wrong and saved the site from an early demise.

The next month saw some huge spikes in readership thanks to links from a few other major Web sites, and the site traffic continued to grow by staggering leaps and bounds. By this time I was using my first name on posts, since being completely anonymous was confusing for readers, and soon I was getting requests for interviews and even some media coverage. Flabbergasted is the best word to describe my reaction over the next few months. Considering I never advertised the site in anyway, its growth and success were really nothing short of astounding. By February 09, over fifty thousand people from around the globe were reading Cake Wrecks every day, with hundreds of e-mails arriving each month.

So what is it about messed-up cakes that people find so appealing? I cant say for sure, but I think it has something to do with the fact that almost all of us have a cake story to tell. Maybe it was that Barbie or He-Man cake you were so thrilled with on your seventh birthday, or the ridiculous homemade heap your roommate made to cheer you up after so-and-so dumped you, or your oh-so-perfect wedding cakethe one Uncle Jerry knocked over at the reception during his drunken rendition of the Thriller dance. Good or bad, these cakes tell little stories about us. So when we see a cake with the inscription Sorry for all those things we said or one thats shaped like a toilet plunger, we know theres probably a story behind