Assessing the Pandemic in My Writing Life

Over the last several days I've thought this would be a good time to pay more attention to my blog and get back to writing every week or at least every month. I've begun a number of posts on various topics--problems related to endings, choosing the right detail to illuminate a character, reworking a first draft. But all of them fell flat. 

As interesting as these problems may be to me and other writers, I felt like I was sitting on a raft whose anchor had been cut and I was drifting out into the middle of a fast-flowing river, ignoring the current, hazards, and struggling boats. My ideas seemed irrelevant to the current circumstances.

We are in the middle of a national crisis not of our own making and certainly not under our control. If you're like me, you're glued to the television news in the evening and scanning the morning paper for anything hopeful, reading posts from other papers and FB postings. And then, after a few days of this, I began to feel the effects--I was ready to snap at people not wearing masks or standing too close as we passed on the sidewalk. I was on high alert in the grocery store and wary of touching anything on a shelf, even while wearing gloves. A simple question asking me how I was could easily trigger a long-winded rant. 

I have no reason to be ill tempered. I'm one of the lucky ones. My husband and I are retired; we haven't lost our livelihood; and our extended families are able to isolate themselves without worrying about how they're going to feed themselves or manage for several months if necessary. It won't be easy, but it won't be catastrophic for them or for us. This is sobering and grounding. We're fortunate. It's a relief to acknowledge this, and step back from the hysteria on social media, from the self-serving lies coming out of the White House, and from any promises of a quick fix from anyone.

This is a time to appreciate what we have but also to be mindful of how others are faring. I can't volunteer to help directly but like many others I can do small things. I donated a half-empty box of facemasks to a nearby home for senior women after they put out a call for protective gear. On my walks I look for something that will offer cheer and a distraction to others, such as the way people decorate their gardens now that spring is here. On the water the ocean breezes slow the blooms but gardeners are out anyway.

Plenty of writers are speculating on how this pandemic will change us. Most are optimistic. I would like to be but not under the current administration, which is angling for both a power and money grab. Nevertheless, I intend to keep close what I have learned about people--both strangers and friends and neighbors--and to move accordingly into the future, making a greater effort where possible to help out and remain ever mindful of those surviving with less. And in the end I'll go back to writing about writing, grateful I can do so and ever appreciative of the opportunities I've been given.