I’ve seen the pictures on social media. Writers in their writing rooms, with a view of the snow. Writers in their gardens sipping wine and tapping into their laptop. Writers glorifying in this splendid isolation, determined to make 2020 the most productive year of their writing careers.
And then there’s the rest of us. For us shmucks in tiny apartments, in poor health, with kids or family problems or just weighed down the the existential horror of surviving a pandemic with a bunch of self-absorbed egomaniacs running the world – this is my quick guide to being a writer when COVID is making everything suck.
Like a great many people, this year has been utterly shit for my family and me. Poor health, murdered social lives, far too much time with kids who NEED to go outside but instead are going to find new ways to smash EVERYTHING in the flat including you, discovering that working from home isn’t so great, discovering that seeing your partner all day every day isn’t as good as it was on your honeymoon and instead you have work and kids and chores and nowhere to get away from it all.
Generally, I write best in a café, with a coke zero (the joys of not being allowed to drink any more [it doesn’t count if nobody sees me]), surrounded by a background buzz and NO INTERRUPTIONS. Yep, that all went to shit. So how the hell am I getting any work done now?
Here are my five top tips to being a writer during the pandemic:
1. Set really easy daily word targets (and miss them).
At the moment I have a 100 word a day target. If I stick to this target I should finish my WIP in about two years. This wouldn’t be great, but, let’s face it, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. And if things haven’t improved by 2022 we’re going to have bigger problems than the status of my latest novel.
The golden rule about this target is that if you miss it, shrug your shoulders, say “oh well”, and try again tomorrow. Now is not the time for more stress.
The silver rule is that if you go over 100 words, your enjoying yourself, and you get left alone that long (oh to be left alone for that long!), keep on going. Just make sure to put yourself in front of the computer every day. Unless you don’t. That’s okay as well.
2. Go outside.
At the moment I’m not sure if we’re allowed outside for one hours or three hours; wherever you are in the world the rules will be different and, I’m sure, subject to change. Either way, it’s tempting to stay cocooned away from the world eating an endless supply of delivered-to-your-door biscuits.
But you need to go outside. Even if it’s leaning outside for a cigarette. Even if, like me, your mobility is reduced and you can’t get very far. Outside is good for you. I promise.
3. Don’t pay attention to how other writers are doing.
They aren’t living your life. And writers are all filthy liars anyway. They’re probably drinking vodka out of a paper cup and sobbing in front of a blank screen just like you and me.
Seriously though, writers and mental health tend to be a thing, so the only thing that really matters about this year is getting out of it alive and in one piece. If other fuckers are posting all over social media about their new book and the prizes they’re winning and how many copies they’re selling, for God’s sake switch off your computer and go watch an Adam Sandler movie. That way you will know there is always a writer worse than you.
4. Eat all the biscuits
Or your sin of choice. It’s not like anybody is going to see you out and about in town anyway! Worry about weight-loss when the existential dread of global pandemic and Mitch McConnell still being speaker of the house (or Boris Johnson being anywhere near any sort of responsibility, or the inevitability that Macron’s economic plan will involve massive bank bailouts for their hard pressed shareholders.)
No! Don’t think about those things! Eat biscuits!
Stop weighing yourself.
Eat. Biscuits.
5. Don’t break up with your partner.
Maybe the two (or more) of you aren’t meant for each other, but this time of stress isn’t revealing untold truths about the nature of your relationship – it just means you’re both (all) having a really bad time when you need each others support the most.
Be kind. Accept they can’t be there for you as much as you want them to be. Bring them biscuits. There will be plenty of time for a horrible, acrimonious breakdown when our governments have filled us with hardly tested vaccines and unleashed us on the world.
You’re saying it’s all about biscuits?
So. There it is. How to survive COVID as a writer – write a little bit, or not at all, eat biscuits, and be excellent to each other. Especially the person who stayed with you even after they discovered you were a writer.
Image by Arek Socha from Pixabay
