A Writing Virus
Updated: May 3, 2020
We are 5-6 weeks into self-isolation and the curve on TV charts doesn't appear to be flattening to me, despite what Dr. Birx says. Still, the governors and business people want to resume business so things are opening up after this weekend. What that means to me is my goal of dozens of completed chapters in my next book has not been met and it's unlikely I'll crank them out in the next 2 days.
To make matters more depressing, the belated marketing push for my prior book has totally fallen flat, no curve there either. This is inexcusable because now is the time kids could be reading the charming Luna tale as they are homeschooled by parents ready to tear their hair out. The parent's hair, not the kids. Social services frowns on that.
However, on the plus side—my clothes closet has been culled, the paper shredder has been on duty for old tax returns, the garbage men are considered an essential business and I've done my part to provide them with business. My creative cooking is in high gear and my weight loss program with WW is in low gear. After the first three weeks, I weaned myself off of the campaign opportunities labeled as briefings. So I have more peace during happy hour, although the 5 oz glass may be a bit larger than prior to the virus.
Thus, my conclusion is the virus has attacked my writing momentum. It appears my research is practicing social distancing as it is not nearby. The software apps and webinars of writing assistance are wearing masks and not understandable with my hearing deficiency. Or it might be motivation deficiency, I sometimes confuse the two.
I have dealt with the many debacles and deficits to my bank account. The dog was so matted, the groomer charge was a chunk, the sporty car sprung a radiator leak and was a small home equity loan, the dog ate my glasses and the optician is not considered an essential business. Now you know those classifications make no sense. The attempt to save money on landscaping failed—all I got was a sore back. That was after I burned out the hedge trimmer, which had to be replaced along with the mini vacuum. There might have been an appliance rebellion and I missed the notice about the insurrection.
Don't even get me started on the cutting the cord mess meant to save money that may be recovered somewhere in 2022. I can't even become a couch potato as changing channels is too cumbersome and I almost miss the telemarketing calls on the home phone that is no longer.
As time goes on, I'm considering being a poet (shorter verses), or a book critic (other writers would fear me), a spiritual leader (because I say Oh My God so much). I'll keep you posted on my career options. Meanwhile and so far, productive author appears way down on the list of exercised options.