A WRITER in QUARANTINE

By Jodie Cain Smith

 

Ah, writing in the time of Covid. Working in the time of Covid. Doing anything in the time of Covid. I won’t lie to you. Over the last 545 months (That’s how long the virus has been here, right?) I’ve been rather unpretty at times. Puddles of tears, not enough sleep, loads of rage and restlessness have wrecked my skin, my waistline, and yes, my writing life. 

Then, I remembered a couple of months ago that I am an optimist. What? Yes! In my opinion, writers are optimists. Who else would willingly throw themselves on the breaches of criticism, trial-and-error, publishers, agents, and self-publishing software designed with the singular goal of forcing the writer to smash her laptop with a sledgehammer? Only a cock-eyed optimist, that’s who. 

So, what does my optimism have to do with writing during a pandemic? Everything. And, to keep a tired cliché going, let’s see what hindsight 2020 has given me. 

1. I can’t squeeze blood from a stone. From March to July, I squeezed my then current project so hard, blood should have shot out in true horror gore style. I was stuck. Forcing words, plot points, and character development when the story just wasn’t in my head and heart proved to be an exercise in lunacy. Especially when I had an unedited dystopian manuscript saved on my hard drive and in the Cloud and in Google docs. And. And. And. 

2. Time and distance have their benefits. Staying away from friends and family has gone on too long. The physical distance of all these months, socially or otherwise, has resulted in unrequited urges to hug every person I see. However, time and distance in writing is helpful. When I pulled that old manuscript from its digital drawer, having sworn it off like this plague, I found a potential novel, a way forward, and a sense of urgency to write I’ve never felt before. In fact, I’d distanced myself so much from this story, revisions spewed out at break-neck speed. But, but, but… 

3. I had to stop pretending. This pandemic has taught me to write the story, not what I thought the story should be, what I had forced unsuccessfully in its previous iteration. Kitschy scenes? Cut. Plot points better addressed in a therapist’s office than in my novel? Cut. (And schedule an appointment with Mary.) Too many characters? Kill off a couple. Leading lady being polite in the middle of the apocalypse so my mother won’t take offense at vocabulary? Sorry, Mama, I’ve unleashed my protagonist. She doesn’t have time for sweet talk. (And, I’m not all that sorry.) So, all this honesty led me to my most valuable pandemic lesson… 

4. Allow for change. Once I dove into these brutal revisions, I opened this story for transformation. This space allowed for truth in storytelling and growth as a writer to one that can see now how her characters need to change and which scenes, old or new, best tell this story. 

How has this pandemic affected your writing life? Tell us in the comments, and who knows? Someone else may have the cure to what ails you.