I knew it was my
turn to post on the blog this week, but I've been putting off writing
anything. I've struggled this week with everything, to be honest. My uncle died on
Tuesday, and this week should have been the start of a new adventure
in France, and I've found it hard to get on with anything. So with
only a few hours to spare before my blog post should go up, I've just
written a kind of brain dump on life during lockdown.
Really, is a
writer's life in lockdown very different from normal? I know many
writers who are by nature hermits. They live alone, they sit in their
home offices to write, they order shopping online and have it
delivered, they conduct friendships online via social media, they
venture out only infrequently to meet family. They panic when they
need to meet up with editors or agents and spend days wondering what
to wear and how to manage the journey. They're happier in the company
of their imaginary characters than in the company of flesh and blood
friends.
And yet - it is
different. Knowing you can't go out for a coffee with a friend. You can't decide to
invite family for Sunday lunch. There's no chance of a lunch out with
your editor. And although cancellation of a writers' conference means
less expense and less stressing about how you'd get there - you were
looking forward to it so much and now it's been crossed out of your
diary, along with everything else.
And there's pressure
on you that comes with the knowledge there's not much else to do
other than write, so surely you should be writing double your usual
output, working on more than one project, getting yourself well ahead
of deadlines. Yet you don't feel like writing, you can't concentrate,
you spend hours on social media or checking the news - what's the
latest death toll, what mad solution has Trump advised now, has
Johnson been spotted anywhere yet? When you finally force yourself
away from the computer or phone, all you want to do is curl up with
an escapist book, watch popcorn TV or lose yourself in a meaningless
jigsaw puzzle.
'If you don't emerge
from the lockdown with a new skill, you never lacked time, you lacked
motivation," say dozens of memes shared across Twitter,
Instagram and Facebook. You then feel guilty because there are
friends posting that they've spring-cleaned their house, completed
the couch to 5km programme, learned French, baked cakes and made
bread, or worst of all - written 3000 words a day on their latest
novel. And all you've done is fritter away the day.
But then there are
the tweets that say if you have simply made it through the day you
have succeeded, because frankly that's all many of us are required to
do right now. Sometimes we'll have good days when we feel on top of
things and can accomplish something (even if it is just putting a
load of washing on) and other days when we can't. And that's all
right. Just as when you've lost a loved one and are learning to live
alongside that fact, it's OK to give yourself permission to simply
grieve. We're all grieving in a way, for the life we had and the
opportunities we've lost. And too many are grieving for loved ones
who've died. No one tells a recently-bereaved person to buck up and
get on with writing a novel or learning a language. We shouldn't
tell each other this either, during the current crisis.
It's like surfing,
my husband used to tell me some years ago when I was dealing with my
mother's illness and death. The waves keep on coming, and some of
them will knock you off the surfboard, but the trick is to get back
on as soon as you can, and learn to surf those waves rather than stay
submerged underwater. I've been under a lot this week, but I know
I'll get back on the board soon and the waves will carry me forward
rather than threatening to drown me. Until then, it's OK to simply
tread water for a bit.
