When the Words Won't Come - Erin Zarro

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.

The Fifteen-Minute Solution - Erin Zarro

At the end of last year, I promised myself that I wouldn't stress myself out trying to do All The Things. I had some deadlines hitting, and I knew that if I beat myself up over not writing, it'd make it all much worse.For me, things accumulate — I'm not writing, I'm working twelve-hour days, I'm not getting enough sleep, I'm stressed...I have to be so careful because of the fibro and trigeminal neuralgia. I could put myself into a major flare that could take months to recover from.

And who the heck needs that on top of everything else?

So I was pretty much okay and zen about it.

Then...my muse started whispering things to me again.

"You're not writing. You're wasting valuable time."

"You're feeling okay today. How about a few hundred words?"

"That idea I gave you last week would be perfect to dive into! What are you waiting for?"

Ugh. Sometimes — okay, most of the time — she's relentless. And a bit psychotic. I put up with it because when she's good...she's phenomenal. When she's like this...not so much.

The other thing is that if I am not being creative on a regular basis, I fall into a depression. I feel worthless. Life has no meaning. Part of me is missing, like an amputated limb. It is absolutely one of worst states to be in, and I actively try to avoid that.

There's only one way to relieve it. By being creative.