Where I Am Right Now: April 2020

My monthly newsletter, Dear Kindred Spirit, went out this week, which reminded me that I haven’t posted here all month. By all accounts, my creative juices have been flowing elsewhere. I guess that’s all right.

But what is “all right” at this point, you know?

As far as I can tell, I’ve tried everything when it comes to processing the pandemic. I’ve cried about it in the quiet aftermath of In the Name of the Father. I’ve been angry with it (like it gives a damn that I want to hug my friends). I have stared blankly at the first page of a quarantine journal. I’ve even denied that this virus exists at all.

But it does exist. Of course it does. At this point, it wouldn’t matter if news broke tomorrow that the whole pandemic was a hoax. It’s part of our history now. It’s part of us.

And I don’t quite know why, but that feels like a lot of responsibility.

I’m having trouble articulating it. I keep staring out the window, hoping it rains. You feel less guilty about being locked up in your house all day if the weather is crappy. Or, at least, that’s true of me.

Here in my city, we have two more days of shelter-in-place. But what happens after that?

Will we ever be comfortable walking around the grocery store again? Will we keep apologizing to each other for not maintaining proper social distancing? How quickly are rules ingrained in us? How much do we miss our pre-pandemic freedoms?

I just don’t want to look into the faces of my future children and speak wistfully of a time when we didn’t have to wear masks to Target. Just in case.

As someone who used to be immunocompromised, I don’t love the reality of physical isolation. I think it’s important that we get out and breathe fresh air. Breathe each other’s air.

But the more I think about it, the more I wonder if this time of social distancing will add to my dislike of parties somewhere down the line. Like, fantastic. I can’t wait to subject myself to four hours of intense social interaction and hug twenty people. That sounds safe.

Honestly, who wants to process the remainder of their lives this way? Not me.

People keep talking about the balance between being productive during quarantine (re: Shakespeare) and being kind during quarantine (re: we’re still human). We’re all coping differently because we’re all different. I hear that.

So, I suppose I’m leaning more toward Shakespeare. Not that I’m writing the next King Lear. As I mentioned in my March newsletter, nobody’s pandemic creations need to pass the Turing test.

But I’m staying busy. That’s how I cope. Not always but usually.

I’m about halfway through the current read-through of my manuscript. Once that’s finished, I’ll have bigger news, but for now, I’m just happy with the look of this draft. The feeling of it. When it speaks to me outside the context of the story, it’s to say, very softly, I’m ready. So I’m trying to be ready, too.

I’ve also been doing quite a bit of reading, though not as much as I’d like. My current reads are Book of Sketches by Jack Kerouac and The Blue Castle by L. M. Montgomery. The first was recommended to me by a friend, and the other is a recent discovery. I’m not usually into books of poetry, but Kerouac’s style is so raw and honest and frenzied. And I feel like I owe Maud the world for her contributions to adult literature. I can’t believe it took me this long to find them.

So, to conclude, I don’t know if I fully believe in this “new normal,” and there are parts of it that I despise so completely that sometimes I nap for no other reason than to pause the very dramatic, very boring footage in my head. But creativity doesn’t stop for pandemics. There is space for both invention and rest. And if nothing else, I will return to the world with a renewed sense of balance and—hopefully—the stamina to schedule a coffee date with every kindred spirit within 60 miles.

Be well. xx

Photo by Simon Rae on Unsplash