Write Where We Are - Housebound Edition
by Elizabeth Solar
Day 143 of Social Distancing. Okay, it’s been six days, but it feels so much longer. While I catch up on binge-watching, I sigh when I catch scenes of friends gathered around a restaurant table, or running together, or hugging each other. Remember hugging? Those were the days.
As we settle into this long-term exile from human contact, a new and uneasy feeling emerges. Although I have worked from home for 15 years, this week somehow seems different. This week I notice sleep patterns, eating patterns and patterns of thinking have changed, and not necessarily for the better. An abundance of positive psychic energy is required maintain optimism, or my preferred skeptical optimism of what lies ahead. More importantly, what can I -- can we -- do to make this time a little more – dare I say – normal?
Writers tend to be sensitive to the changing rhythms of life, and on good days examine and address them with curiosity, purpose and creativity. Even fiction writers must surrender to the reality of situations in order to truthfully portray stories that resonate and empathize.
We may not have the luxury of each other’s physical presence, but we have everything we need to carry the torch that ignites imagination and the soul. Every day this week, I have been writing – whether this post, a project for a client, flash fiction, or revision of larger works. Early morning or late evening journaling has helped me allay fears from personal safety to how to deal with the sprouting white hairs, sure to achieve Pepe Le Pew status if can’t see my colorist in a couple of weeks. Come April it could turn ugly in the hair care aisle at CVS. Toilet paper and Disinfecting wipes, you ain’t got nothing on Clairol or L’Oréal. Because dammit, not only are we’re worth it, we’re gonna need it.
Such is what keeps me up at night. And fuels the writing.
That’s the good news. Nothing inspires writing like good old conflict. And conflict abounds. What’s more we can write anywhere, whatever the circumstance. Social distancing be damned, we always work in isolation. Such is the writer’s process. Since our work is portable, we do it anywhere. Current conditions for writers are virtually unchanged, perhaps even enhanced. For instance, most of us can safely say we won’t lose income, as most writers’ salaries average a whopping little or nothing.
Interruptions are the natural enemy of a consistent writing practice. Unless you are caring for a young one, or a much older/infirmed one, you may compose unhindered. Besides those people we live with are so sick of us at this point, they’re happy to leave us alone with our thoughts and a blank screen. Social distancing has its rewards.
When we want to be connected, technology is there for us. Yesterday my writer-neighbor and I met on FaceTime, wrote from prompts, and exchanged feedback, book recommendations and recipes.
Next week my fabulous scribe tribe will convene on Zoom, share stories, and do what we have done for eight years: Maintain a sisterhood of writers, a literary board of directors and life supporters. Together we have navigated the emotional storms of divorce, cancer, parental deaths, kids in crisis, loss of pets as well as walked with each other on sunnier occasions: weddings, graduations, professional highs, publishing successes, and new addresses.
We’ve been through it all. Hang on the sofa for a month or so to help stem a virus? Endure social distancing? Risk the depression that comes from sustained isolation? Child’s play.
We got this.
Because we can Write Where We Are, (Kudos to our fabulous Nancy Sackheim for gracing our group with this moniker). Because we have imagination, a belief in the power of story to change lives and the ability and privilege to tell those stories to each other right where we are.
Wherever we are.
