It's no secret that many people are off kilter due to the COVID-19 happenings going on right now. My husband was laid off in late March, and he's been completely out of sorts since because he's not used to being home. I've been working through this because 1) I work from home anyway, and 2) Publishing really hasn't seemed to have been hit much (yet) and things have been ticking along as usual. I do realize that could change, and that's scary.
My usual method for dealing with stress or upheaval is to write. One of my novels got me through a divorce. Another got me through a family upheaval, after the initial shock wore off and I could feel again. Countless breakups in high school compelled me to write tons of poetry, most of which became the basis of my second poetry chapbook, Without Wings, which released in 2011. A particularly horrible breakup resulted in some of the best poems I ever wrote.
Any stress in general gives rise to words. And it's been that way for years and years and years.
Until now.
To be fair, we're in a completely new, almost unbelievable situation. We, as a people, at least in my lifetime, have never had to face something like this. There's so much fear and panic and it's every day in the news, on the internet, talking with the family...I can't get away from it. Luckily, work has been busy and has given me a bit of space, so I'm no longer a ball of anxiety like I was before. But for the country in general, it's been a rough few months. Especially the lockdowns. People aren't used to staying home. Well, I am, and I rarely go anywhere, but most aren't like me. They're feeling it. I am starting to feel it. In Michigan, our governor just extended our stay-at-home order till May 15th, but has raised some restrictions.And that brings with it the possibility of things, some good and some bad.
I don't think anyone really knows how to handle this.
My muse—or writer brain, or creative side, or right brain—is basically MIA. I have a book that's technically on a deadline, and I'm within about 20,000 to 30,000 words from finishing the first draft. Prior to this, I could bang that out in a month or so. Now? <laughs>
I need three weeks to a month minimum to revise, and my deadline is July 1st. And...I am starting to feel like I'm not going to make it. Part of this problem is the fact that I can't write every day anymore. My work is so busy, and I am usually brain dead after working ten to twelve hours. So the words just aren't racking up like they used to. I'm still trying to fix that, but it's been slow going. And when I can sit down to write, like last night, for example, they're slow. I've had a few good days here and there, so it hasn't been completely horrible. But as I go on in the manuscript, I just feel like it's getting worse and my well is dried up. It could be a story problem, but stopping and trying to fix it will be disastrous as I do not know what exactly is wrong or how the rest will play out, so changing it would be pointless. Also, time. I don't have time to do any extensive rewrites. Or, hey, it could be the pandemic screwing with my brain.
I read that when you're in a constant state of alert, your body is using everything it has to keep you safe. And it dumps everything else, including creative stuff. That made sense to me. Because I am not the kind of writer that doesn't write. I usually try to work through blocks—or whatever the hell this is. I wonder if I feel okay on the surface but my brain is busy trying to think of ways to not let me die, maybe, and it's not interested in making words.
It's disappointing, but as a lot of things I've read said, you don't have to come out of this with the next greatest invention, or fluent in a foreign language, or the answer to unanswerable questions. It's a pandemic, and we're in an unfamiliar, scary-as-hell situation, and it's okay to be a slug. Being Type A and Mrs. Productivity Person, this is a hard thing to swallow, but I am really trying. I do not need added stress when everything could implode. Yeah, I'd love to have a freaking book to turn in, but not at the expense of my mental health. And with chronic illnesses...I need to be extra careful. Burning myself out isn't going to help me at all.
So I am telling myself that it's okay if the words won't come, and try again tomorrow. If they come, even crappy ones, I'll celebrate them. If they don't, well...that's pandemic life. Sometimes there are more important things than words.
I'll be praying this ends soon. But in the meantime...the words are worth waiting for.
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